Once again we received an e-mail from someone who suffered years of abuse and torture and still went on to treat their own children with love and respect. This one speaks for itself…
I was adopted , Born in a small clinic in the midwest.
I was adopted at birth by two people from the Appalachians, it was hell from day 1.
When I cried I was smacked, my mother said I cried on purpose, trying to get attention. I was an ill baby , allergic to milk and my tummy always hurt , always throwing up. This didn’t sit well with my mother, her remedy was to give me more to what ever I was allergic too.
My earliest memory was her holding me on her lap and restraining me, forcing me to eat, if i fell asleep during my feeding I was rudely shaken awake. I have scars on my face where she has pinched my cheeks to hold food in my mouth so I wouldn’t spit it out.
My toddler years consisted of being thrown out of the crib onto the floor busting out my teeth and giving me two black eyes, my leg was broken because my mom said I fell off the bed, I was always being chased, hit or force-fed.
AS I became older, I was always told I was ugly, and I acted stupid. I was tied up by my ankles to a bed post and stripped of my pants and under garments, my mom then sat across the small of my back so I couldn’t reach around to stop her from beating my butt with a shoe heel, a thick wooden paddle this all the while stuffing my dads tube socks in my mouth so I couldn’t scream. This beating would go on until her fury drained out of her and I was left bleeding through my bruises. Before any type of beating she would walk through the house closing windows so the neighbors wouldn’t hear.
She stood me in a corner naked and flipped me with rubber bands, put my feet in a frying pan on the stove. Made me eat dish soap and whenever I had chapped lips she would put hot pepper sauce on them.
When she was potty training me, she would make me sit on the toilet for hours. During summer vacation she would get me up, feed me breakfast and then make me stand in the corner until it was time to go to bed that night , usually standing 13 hours or more a day.
She beat me ( along with my father) on my female private parts with a paddle or a paint stirrer, and when it was bruised, she would remark….” look , your pee-pee is wearing lipstick.” She then would apply muscle rub to my genitalia. This happened more than once.
I think she was poisoning me, I had sores all over my body, my tongue always had red bumps and my nails had white spots on them. I was always very sick to my stomach, but I was never allowed to rest, I had to stand in that corner very ill. Sickness was a sign of weakness.
She didn’t like it when I had to go to the hospital. She took me out and brought me home. She would wrap me up in bed sheets with a peroxide or alcohol solution with all of those open sores on my body, it hurt so bad!! then she stood me in front of the window air unit wrapped in wet bed sheets, She would make me stand there for hours. I would freeze and shake.
At night when I was in bed, she would come in and scream at me that I wasnt sleeping in my bed correctly and then she would grab me by the hair and throw me to the ground this would happen over and over, it got to where I was afraid to go to sleep. I wasnt allowed to have friends and I couldn’t play with my toys, I either stood in the corner all day ( from time of getting up till time for bed) or sat in the corner of my room.
I was tested at school and they wanted to put me in a gifted class and she told them no. So when I got home after school, she would take away my books and not let me do homework, so I would flunk out. See? she said, you’re not so smart.
She made me clean the bathroom and mirrors with my tongue, she wrapped me up in my dads thermal shirts and tied my hands behind my back like a straight jacket I was often made to eat off the floor like a dog . She also made me eat whole cakes and a bottles of ketchup when I told her I was hungry and wanted a little bit more.
She would make me stand and make faces at myself in the mirror. She would send me to my room to cry and when I stopped she would come in with a belt,extension cord. She was also known to punch me in the stomach.
I had a horrible life, I was always afraid, afraid to sleep, afraid to speak. And my dad would just go along with it.
I still suffer.
I went through 38 foster homes after this, it was just as bad.
I am a single mother with a son and I could never even imagine doing these things to my child. I want everyone to know for the record that past abuse is not an excuse for abusing your own children, you can rise above it.
My son is a straight A student, charming and precocious and I love every hair on his head. I am thankful he is here and I never want to see him cry because someone hurt him.
I hope others read your stories and learn.
To this day, I don’t date because I am afraid of putting some idiot in my child’s life. I had him, and I am here to take care of him and see he gets the best start possible, my social life can wait.
Be well and do good work………
It is the person who sent this e-mail who is doing the best work of all.