*Trigger warning* I have to say this diary will touch and deal with child abuse, child grooming and animal abuse as well as severe. Please be careful about reading this If it could trigger.
Hello lovely people of this forum. I'm writing this because I still have issues with dealing with the full reality of what happened to me and I'm hoping being able to put this into words may give me some framework to help me approach doctors in the future. Maybe half a year ago I still used the word abuse and struggled to call it that, or felt unsure If I really was even abused. Now I struggle to not feel stupid for not knowing sooner, I suspect this may be by inner critic trying to shame me. I can't express how much it helps to read your experiences on here and know I'm not the only one, that I'm not just "weak or crazy" Thank you to everyone that is brave enough to share and speak out, you pave the way for it being easier for us to speak out and I hope some of you are able to take comfort from the fact sharing your pain goes on to help the next person.
So I got into a very supportive and loving relationship about three years ago. Before that I had been very unstable, I had CBT three times but it actually made me worse (I think cognitive work Is great as part as a tool kit and essential at times, but I was forced into these crash courses for anxiety, the underlying issues were never explored and when it would not net the therapist the results desired, I was blamed for not using the correct thinking styles
which scared me away from therapy for a long time) I applied for therapy again and had an assessment. I wrote down everything and anything I felt was relevant, things that I was pretty sure irrelevant at the time, but I guess I felt I had to be super honest as I was struggling to understand why I was struggling with things such as affection. They tried to push me into CBT again despite me writing things down that should of been a red flag to any trained specialist, but luckily I was able to argue I had been down this road and I got into talking therapy.
I'm so guarded In therapy, but I think I got lucky. My therapist (T) was very astute. In all honest I suspect she was able to look at some events and guess what I was going through, the hard work for her was getting past my denial and suppression. I had a hard time at home, growing up In awful poverty and neglect and two parents with mental illness requiring me to take on responsibility a child and teen should not of had to. But at the time I would defend it, minimize it and excuse it, because that's what I had almost been conditioned to do so.
The first barrier my T broke down was the fact my Dad has an issue with alcohol. For some reason I had never faced this before, but we explored how me and my sister never had our own clothes, they were always hand me downs and charity clothes. I can remember being sent to primary clothes In a pair of sandals because my parents said they didn't have enough money to get me a proper pair of shoes, I was too young to understand at the time. I can however remember this carrying over into high school, being sent to school In girls shoes (An old pair of my sisters) which brought about students and even teachers laughing at me and the shame I felt. I can remember approaching my parents and my Mum just shrieking at me, my Dad and him shaming me, how it wasn't their fault, how I was actually "lucky, compared to children In Africa because I had a roof over my head and food on the table" I was shamed for daring to ask for more because "didn't I know they were on benefits and couldn't afford designer gear" Being a child/teen I internalized this, it didn't occur to me I was only asking for gender appropriate clothes and stuff that would stop me being a target to the names of tramp and scrubber. I use to always blush if attention was on me, I think I only ever felt safe at home if I was able to be ignored and blend into the background if I couldn't just be out playing all the time, I suspect some of this is why just being around people Is such a huge trigger to this day and why feeling like I'm being observed is so painful to me.
I guess he had to go to Africa, because that really was the closest example he could find. I grew up with a childhood friend who's parents were heroin addicts, yet I remember thinking all my friends were rich him included because they had carpets everywhere, because unlike me they didn't have my little pony wallpaper left over from their sister or holes In the wall,
I started to work at 14, just so I had the money to buy myself the normal things a teenage boy should have. The rest of the people I worked with were adults (I worked for a farmer as a car park attendant) and I actually enjoyed it despite working 7 In the morning till 4 In the afternoon on a Sunday. This soon angered my Dad though, he acted like I was going out of my way to mess up his weekend because if he drove me Sunday morning he couldn't "get pissed Saturday nights" I can still feel the anger radiating off him every time he took me and picked me up and dropped me off, and he let me know frequently I had done something wrong by taking his weekend away. I eventually had to go and stay with my Nana who lived closer by to work, but gave up my Saturday evening and night to do so.
I want to rewind a little bit here. I was always scared of my Dad, one of my earliest memories is him backhanding me so hard that it knocked me off my feet. I was only about 6 I think (I struggle to place so many of these memories) because my Mum was able to pick me up afterwards and cradle me. They had asked me to go and shout my older sister who was upstairs as we were all going out. I did what they always did and walked to the bottom of the stairs and shouted her name as loud as I could. I don't know if I was just copying them or I knew what I was doing, but I got told "don't be cheeky" and I replied "what I'm just doing what you guys do" And the next thing I know is I'm backhanded so hard that my world turned upside down.
I didn't get beat or hit on a regular basis, but there were enough times stuff that like that happened that we soon learned to fear my Dad and the threat of violence was very real, so much but were mostly able to avoid crossing him. I do however remember being very young, not yet a teen. Meal times were always horrible. I was labelled as a fussy eater, awkward. There are some foods that I don't like, though it seems to be textures that set me off. I remember struggling to eat these tinned tomatoes to the point they were actually making me gag, the next thing I know is I'm being dragged over the dining table by my throat knocking plates off. I can't remember what was said that time, but I do remember my Dad developed this phrase "Eat it or wear it" and it was said as a joke but there was genuine menace behind it too. Eating became an issue for both me and my sister. I can remember we both used to try and avoid eating, just because we didn't want to set our Dad off In a mood for asking for the "wrong" thing to be cooked. He would ask us what we wanted for tea, but if often felt like a trick question as he would go into a mood banging stuff and eve throwing stuff sometimes. We both began to say we weren't hungry but this would also set him off. We had the same cheese butty home made every day at school from primary school through high school too, I know we both started throwing it over the wall as soon as we walked to the bus stop. I'm not sure why we did that (we both did that but I thought it was just me until recently when my Mum said my sister also use to do it too, I don't know if I couldn't stomach eating the same thing all the time, or if it was something I was paranoid would mark me out for bullying at school and seen as a threat) I do remember I never had a drink and would get headaches all the time.
Us always being hungry was noticed by my Aunt, I only found out recently but she reported it to my school and social services. We were never spoken to, I believe my Dad told people we were kids out of control and fussy eaters. He had a CPN who would let us all be sent upstairs while him and my Dad watched football. I remember this being around the time my Dad started teasing us saying things like "Going to ring child protection because I won't let you have a biscuit" laughing and mocking us. I guess he thought we had rang. I remember my sister developed an eating disorder and would often be caught throwing up. This too attracted mocking, with him saying things like "What's the point in me making you anything, maybe I should just serve you sick back up till you keep it down" and him acting like it was funny.
And I was hoping to write more, but this has become longer than I expected and I'm tired and now crying (it feels good I have been keeping all this emotion locked inside) I will write more soon when I can.
Hello lovely people of this forum. I'm writing this because I still have issues with dealing with the full reality of what happened to me and I'm hoping being able to put this into words may give me some framework to help me approach doctors in the future. Maybe half a year ago I still used the word abuse and struggled to call it that, or felt unsure If I really was even abused. Now I struggle to not feel stupid for not knowing sooner, I suspect this may be by inner critic trying to shame me. I can't express how much it helps to read your experiences on here and know I'm not the only one, that I'm not just "weak or crazy" Thank you to everyone that is brave enough to share and speak out, you pave the way for it being easier for us to speak out and I hope some of you are able to take comfort from the fact sharing your pain goes on to help the next person.
So I got into a very supportive and loving relationship about three years ago. Before that I had been very unstable, I had CBT three times but it actually made me worse (I think cognitive work Is great as part as a tool kit and essential at times, but I was forced into these crash courses for anxiety, the underlying issues were never explored and when it would not net the therapist the results desired, I was blamed for not using the correct thinking styles
which scared me away from therapy for a long time) I applied for therapy again and had an assessment. I wrote down everything and anything I felt was relevant, things that I was pretty sure irrelevant at the time, but I guess I felt I had to be super honest as I was struggling to understand why I was struggling with things such as affection. They tried to push me into CBT again despite me writing things down that should of been a red flag to any trained specialist, but luckily I was able to argue I had been down this road and I got into talking therapy.I'm so guarded In therapy, but I think I got lucky. My therapist (T) was very astute. In all honest I suspect she was able to look at some events and guess what I was going through, the hard work for her was getting past my denial and suppression. I had a hard time at home, growing up In awful poverty and neglect and two parents with mental illness requiring me to take on responsibility a child and teen should not of had to. But at the time I would defend it, minimize it and excuse it, because that's what I had almost been conditioned to do so.
The first barrier my T broke down was the fact my Dad has an issue with alcohol. For some reason I had never faced this before, but we explored how me and my sister never had our own clothes, they were always hand me downs and charity clothes. I can remember being sent to primary clothes In a pair of sandals because my parents said they didn't have enough money to get me a proper pair of shoes, I was too young to understand at the time. I can however remember this carrying over into high school, being sent to school In girls shoes (An old pair of my sisters) which brought about students and even teachers laughing at me and the shame I felt. I can remember approaching my parents and my Mum just shrieking at me, my Dad and him shaming me, how it wasn't their fault, how I was actually "lucky, compared to children In Africa because I had a roof over my head and food on the table" I was shamed for daring to ask for more because "didn't I know they were on benefits and couldn't afford designer gear" Being a child/teen I internalized this, it didn't occur to me I was only asking for gender appropriate clothes and stuff that would stop me being a target to the names of tramp and scrubber. I use to always blush if attention was on me, I think I only ever felt safe at home if I was able to be ignored and blend into the background if I couldn't just be out playing all the time, I suspect some of this is why just being around people Is such a huge trigger to this day and why feeling like I'm being observed is so painful to me.
I guess he had to go to Africa, because that really was the closest example he could find. I grew up with a childhood friend who's parents were heroin addicts, yet I remember thinking all my friends were rich him included because they had carpets everywhere, because unlike me they didn't have my little pony wallpaper left over from their sister or holes In the wall,
I started to work at 14, just so I had the money to buy myself the normal things a teenage boy should have. The rest of the people I worked with were adults (I worked for a farmer as a car park attendant) and I actually enjoyed it despite working 7 In the morning till 4 In the afternoon on a Sunday. This soon angered my Dad though, he acted like I was going out of my way to mess up his weekend because if he drove me Sunday morning he couldn't "get pissed Saturday nights" I can still feel the anger radiating off him every time he took me and picked me up and dropped me off, and he let me know frequently I had done something wrong by taking his weekend away. I eventually had to go and stay with my Nana who lived closer by to work, but gave up my Saturday evening and night to do so.
I want to rewind a little bit here. I was always scared of my Dad, one of my earliest memories is him backhanding me so hard that it knocked me off my feet. I was only about 6 I think (I struggle to place so many of these memories) because my Mum was able to pick me up afterwards and cradle me. They had asked me to go and shout my older sister who was upstairs as we were all going out. I did what they always did and walked to the bottom of the stairs and shouted her name as loud as I could. I don't know if I was just copying them or I knew what I was doing, but I got told "don't be cheeky" and I replied "what I'm just doing what you guys do" And the next thing I know is I'm backhanded so hard that my world turned upside down.
I didn't get beat or hit on a regular basis, but there were enough times stuff that like that happened that we soon learned to fear my Dad and the threat of violence was very real, so much but were mostly able to avoid crossing him. I do however remember being very young, not yet a teen. Meal times were always horrible. I was labelled as a fussy eater, awkward. There are some foods that I don't like, though it seems to be textures that set me off. I remember struggling to eat these tinned tomatoes to the point they were actually making me gag, the next thing I know is I'm being dragged over the dining table by my throat knocking plates off. I can't remember what was said that time, but I do remember my Dad developed this phrase "Eat it or wear it" and it was said as a joke but there was genuine menace behind it too. Eating became an issue for both me and my sister. I can remember we both used to try and avoid eating, just because we didn't want to set our Dad off In a mood for asking for the "wrong" thing to be cooked. He would ask us what we wanted for tea, but if often felt like a trick question as he would go into a mood banging stuff and eve throwing stuff sometimes. We both began to say we weren't hungry but this would also set him off. We had the same cheese butty home made every day at school from primary school through high school too, I know we both started throwing it over the wall as soon as we walked to the bus stop. I'm not sure why we did that (we both did that but I thought it was just me until recently when my Mum said my sister also use to do it too, I don't know if I couldn't stomach eating the same thing all the time, or if it was something I was paranoid would mark me out for bullying at school and seen as a threat) I do remember I never had a drink and would get headaches all the time.
Us always being hungry was noticed by my Aunt, I only found out recently but she reported it to my school and social services. We were never spoken to, I believe my Dad told people we were kids out of control and fussy eaters. He had a CPN who would let us all be sent upstairs while him and my Dad watched football. I remember this being around the time my Dad started teasing us saying things like "Going to ring child protection because I won't let you have a biscuit" laughing and mocking us. I guess he thought we had rang. I remember my sister developed an eating disorder and would often be caught throwing up. This too attracted mocking, with him saying things like "What's the point in me making you anything, maybe I should just serve you sick back up till you keep it down" and him acting like it was funny.
And I was hoping to write more, but this has become longer than I expected and I'm tired and now crying (it feels good I have been keeping all this emotion locked inside) I will write more soon when I can.
