family abuse

This tag is associated with 22 posts

on hating hair brushes

I have kept the stories from my short story out of my blog to keep them separate.  I am almost done with my short story and plan to publish it soon.  However, I thought I’d mention why I hate hair brushes here. My mother used to love to hit me with hair brushes.  It seemed … Continue reading

Who hated Kindergarten?

I did. I had waited what seemed like many long years to start school.  I would watch my brother go off to school and I would be left behind.  I plagued my mother with questions of when could I start school.  Finally I was able to start Kindergarten and it started out well.  But as … Continue reading

Fear of cars begins

My mother was a heavy smoker.  It was kind of gross.  The house smelled like cigarette smoke and there were cigarette butts stuffed everywhere.  My mother always smelled of smoke.  My father also smoked and always smelled this way as well.  Their bedroom was a haze of smoke.  My mother had to supply their habit … Continue reading


I broke something.  I do not remember now what it was I broke.  It scared me because I broke something my parents cared about.  I knew I was in trouble.  It was a Sunday afternoon.  Both my parents were home.  I was so scared I bolted out of the house.  I went to the neighbor’s … Continue reading

More Coping

I also have a great affinity for animals.  I had a huge collection of glass animals whom I loved dearly.  They all had names and personalities.  I would spend a lot of my free hours inventing new games to play with my glass animals.  They were my favorite past time.  I kept them on my … Continue reading

The coping mechanisms commence

I did the best I could with what I had to work with within the limits of my home and my imagination.  It was a good thing I was a smart inventive child.  I used this to help me cope with what was going on in my home behind closed doors.   I developed an … Continue reading

Daddy’s Little Girl

Believe it or not, I started my first five years or so as a Daddy’s Girl.  My father used to hold my hand while walking, take me with him while working, talk to me like I was not just a child, and he would read to me.  In short, he would show me off as … Continue reading

My relationship with John

My relationship with my older brother became symbiotic during this time.  We became very dependent on each other for support.  We were both drowning in a sea of unhappy family life and we clung to each other for support.  We helped each other through some very difficult childhood traumas which made us very close.  We … Continue reading

Recovered Memories

At one point in the beginning of my recovery journey, I had a lot of memories floating around in my brain that wanted to come out. My therapist told me not to force the memories. Let them come up naturally and unforced. And that’s what I did. One day I was driving home by myself … Continue reading

The Flying Plate

My mom was a stay at home mother like all the other moms back then.  That was a time when kids had moms there for them and they actually had time to cook dinners for their family.  My mother would spend hours in the kitchen every afternoon planning and making meals for my father.  The … Continue reading