It left an imprint on me..

[plushiesaremyjam]

I was abused as a child. Not physically, but mentally. Out in the open, as well as behind closed doors. For about 14-15 years of my life.

My father was a very type A man. Big, fat, angry man who smoked and watched Fox News. He was a narcissist, like a text book one according to my therapist. He would watch porn in the house with my older brother and I awake. He only cared about his opinion most of the time.

I did not have the best of childhoods, instead of running on soft grass with scrapped knees all day with my friends, I walked on egg shells. Not literal of course, but I walked on egg shells every day. I had no idea what kind of mood my father would be in. I knew what it was to be like that day as soon as I woke up in the morning. I could feel the tenseness in the house on bad days. Even on good days we walked on eggshells. "Don't make dad angry, hes in a good mood dont make him angry." Instead of being excited that my father would be home from work I would put on a fake smile and hold back a sigh at the age of 8. I remember asking my mom when she would come pick me up after school (she was the PTO treasurer at my elementary school) in the teachers lounge (one of the perks of being a PTO kid) and I would ask her "Is daddy in a good mood today?" at a young age. This usually happened when he would be on vacation from work (He worked a full time job so he would take days of vacation some days) and I would worry for my mom. He didnt hit her, but as he did to all of us, he mentally did it. Belitting her, gas lighting her. He not only did it to her but he did it to my older brother who is 4 years older than me. Sometimes even to me. Telling me I was just like my crazy grandmother just because I was a very sensitive child. I had a huge fear of storms and really any type of weather (even tho we lived in a place that had almost zero rain storms or anything, just sunshine) because of a traumatic incident on a trip to North Carolina when I was 6. He and my brother would make fun of me for it.

He and my mom would fight sometimes, I remember the yelling, the crashes of stuff being thrown. I remember my mother crying, I remember her sleeping on the floor of my room some nights, sometimes she would sleep out in the living room. I remember tense Sunday mornings. I remember when my father found Netflix. I remember the day he found "Weeds" as well as "Nip Tuck" and "The Tutors" I remember my mom telling me not to come in the living room when daddy watched those shows. I didn't understand. I just knew they were grown up shows. I remember my brother pausing an episode of some show he and dad were watching that I couldnt watch cause I came down the hall wearing "clicking" shoes (aka high heels cause I was fancy) and my dad getting mad and going out into the garage. I remember how bad I felt for coming out of my room at that time, just to get a snack. I remember how bad I felt just because I wanted to be a normal kid. I remember being scared when dad would raise his voice. Even if it was out of amusement. I remember my moms holiday stress, I remember how Mother's Day was always stressful for her. I remember that at one point, I wished my brother and i hadnt of been born. So my mother did not have to be a mother. I remember wishing my mom and dad never had us so then my mom could divorce him and leave him. I still wish that to this day sometimes.

But the traumatic scenes I remember most clearly, were after his death in 2011 when I was 11 years old, about to turn 12.

All of this happened between 5th grade, to 9th grade.

I remember my brother becoming just like him. I remember my mom and brothers screaming matches against each other. I remember not being able to bring my friend home with me. I remember my moms tears. I remember being embarrassed of my own family. I remember contemplating running away from home. I remember screaming with my mom for my brother to please stop.

I remember my brother telling me I was crazy.

I remember the day we moved away from my home. I remember moving to my new home on the other side of the country. I remember my mom and my brother screaming at each other, I remember wishing he would graduate and leave home already. I remember him coming inside from the shed high out of his mind. Only to be even more paranoid. I remember him telling me I was going to be nothing in life, that I would be just like my grandma. I remember my first day of freshman year, he and my mom had an argument and it was a screaming match in the backyard after school. I remember crying my eyes out.

I remember the day my stress ended. I remember the day my mom drove my brother to the recruiting station the day he was supposed to leave to go to Parris Island to go to boot camp.

I remember the days after feeling odd, not being super stressed out. I remember not always being scared. It wasnt until that day that I really started to heal. I lost my dad when I was 11. But was allowed to fully heal when I was 15.

But I remember the day I met my fathers brother. Learning that my dad had always been like that. My family learning that all of the things my father told us were all lies. Finding out my father was a liar. Finding out my father made his own family miserable. That it was not just us.

I still have bad days. I have a lot of them actually. I still think that I am crazy most of the time. I wonder if I am crazy. I have days where I dont want to leave the house thinking that my dizziness is some sort of brain tumor. That my deja vu is a epilepsy, psychosis, or schizophrenia coming to take over. That I am weird for not being able to tolerate loud noises without getting scared. That I am broken for being scared to meet my friends dads and be around men. That my boyfriend will stop loving me because of my anxiety. That my friends will all abandon me cause I dont always want to go out. That on my graduation day I wont be able to get my diploma. Hoping my friends who know my story will not treat me like im a delicate flower.

I do not want pity, I want understanding. I want someone to tell me i am not crazy. That I will be alright. That I will not go into a mental hospital for this. I want people to understand that kids who were emotionally abused as children are not special snowflakes, I want them to know that we are strong. That we are just trying our best to heal. That it will take time, but we will not be perfect by the end of it. I want everyone to know that the abuse we feel does not go away with age. That we still have our moments of fear. That it will always be in the back of our minds.

But we are still strong.

[Jeff1943]

Sorry but your post is far too long.

[ravisd]

In my view, your post is not ‘too long’. Thank for sharing and thank you for remembering. I guess I am the start of that journey of remembering. My dad suffered from severe anger and issues and would drink heavily. Like yourself I would come home thinking what type of mood would he be in. He died 9 years ago and I don’t really remember that side of things and try to see him in the a good light. But I need to remember because I see myself getting angry frequently like he did. My 4 year old daughter said to my partner ‘what’s wrong with daddy today’ recently - I need to stop this unwelcome family tradition!

[Rusty73]

I know you don’t want people to feel sorry for you but this post has brought tears to my eyes. I grew up wondering what mood my dad would be in when he got home from work. But nothing like this scale. I bet that has been cathartic getting it all down in writing. I hope it makes you feel better in some way. You seem like a strong person and on the right track. Just don’t let anyone make you feel that way again, you don’t deserve it and now you are older you don’t have to accept it.

[Hidden]

Im sorry your post is too short..I don't think you are crazy..Im battling the same issue..Im 42 and i believe I have been scarred..I must be, as much as I don't want to think about it..I think it's done alot of harm to my esteem and manhood, my upbringing, and my life upto now...I just hope I can change it around cause I don't want to carry this around all my life.. your right, we are strong..Thank you for sharing your story..

[Taradactyl3]

I can relate to so much of this...only he is still alive. I'm still struggling with the same things you are. I also connected with my Aunt and she has helped me a lot. You are not alone.

[Acorndr]

I grew up in a household like this. I thought and felt the same way you do and fear I will struggle with it for the rest of my life, but there is hope. Honestly, you have to recreate yourself. You have to visualize who You want to be and shun the person they raised you to be because that person is broken. Keep working towards being a better person. Take risk and do things you never thought you would do. It builds your self esteem. Try not to live in the bubble of safety. I feel that’s where anxiety and doubt grows the strongest. I had no good examples of how to be a good person, a good mother or wife and so It’s hard, but you can do it.