ONE OF THE WORST BEATINGS I EVER GOT

“If the sound of happy children is grating on your ears, I don't think it's the children who need to be adjusted.” 

Stefan Molyneux

One of the worst beatings I ever got was on Christmas Eve, when I was 7. 

(I had already moved 6 or 7 times by the time I was 7, including attending 3 different first grade classes - I have the Lifetouch photos from them all to prove it.  Tho it does seem kinda crazy I made picture day at all 3 schools.)

My father used to rage over holidays, often throwing away any treats the day after, complaining we were all too fat to enjoy desert beyond Christmas day.

Holidays always upset him, and this one, with my mum's mom and her grandmother visiting, really set him off.  Unfortunately for me, I was the only available target, his preferred target, the one unable to speak for herself.

I had asked to open a present - one too many times, I guess, and so I got a beating.  I remember hearing my grandmother and my great-grandmother getting upset with him through my closed door as I lay crumpled on my bed afterwards, but they never comforted me.  (My instincts told me to hide, but my mother had beaten me when I was 6 for hiding behind a dresser after one of my father's 'punishments'.)

Instead, they ignored me until much later, when we all pretended it didn't happen, so we could open gifts in peace.  My suffering was always in the way of their peace.  So when it came time to open gifts... I was already detached, gone, mentally somewhere else.  

Soon after I would start leaving the house, late, late, late at night in order to escape a home that was violent, cruel, and never a safe place for me.  

Giving - and then taking away - always taking away - was my father's favorite game, one he continues as long as I allow it.

Stripped of human decency, stripped of self-worth, stripped of care, stripped of any kind of self-dignity and safety... forced to marry a violent drunk when I was 20 (weeks before turning 21), as my mother lay dying in a  hospital bed, I was set up to fail by the same man who was supposed to protect me, supposed to set me on a good path for a great future.

Instead, I was forced to praise the same person who had spent my life destroying my self-worth, my health, and my prospects at a decent future.

No more.

Now, I'm telling my side of the story.  After a year of therapy, I can finally find my voice.  A voice I have allowed others to silence, because they threatened my safety, my future, my ability to live.

My story, a novel I've been working on for a very long time, is not a complete look into my past, as much of it is still wrapped in the obscure lies my abusers (and their powerful ties) have woven around themselves, as a way to shield themselves from the truth.

But my story is 100% authentic, and much of it is backed up by logistics and secondary facts.

And no matter what happens to me - it will be told.  Because the price I was forced to pay for other people's happiness will be repaid with interest.

I hope they're ready to pay it.

Namaste,
The Storyteller

This wasn't the only Christmas beating I ever got - but it was the one that changed me forever.

“Children's talent to endure stems from their ignorance of alternatives.”  Maya Angelou

“Childhood should be carefree, playing in the sun; not living a nightmare in the darkness of the soul.”  Dave Pelzer

“Abuse manipulates and twists a child’s natural sense of trust and love. Her innocent feelings are belittled or mocked and she learns to ignore her feelings. She can’t afford to feel the full range of feelings in her body while she’s being abused—pain, outrage, hate, vengeance, confusion, arousal. So she short-circuits them and goes numb. For many children, any expression of feelings, even a single tear, is cause for more severe abuse. Again, the only recourse is to shut down. Feelings go underground.”  Laura Davis

“The greater a child’s terror, and the earlier it is experienced, the harder it becomes to develop a strong and healthy sense of self.”  Nathaniel Branden

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