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Where to begin. I guess it is always better to start at the begining. Not sure when the abuse started for me personally. I heard stories from both sides of the family to know that it went back generations. I remember being young and wanting attention that was not coming and being ever so fearful of my mother. Everyone feared her. I later would find out with good reason. I heard a story that my mom slapped my older brother at age one for peaing on her. There was a threat of a report from my aunt who witnessed it but nothing ever came of it. My mother got better at not hitting us infront of people. It was not just hitting as much as it was verbal abuse. I remember dropping a doll down the stairs and my mom threatening to drop me down the stairs. I remember her telling me she could kill me and it would not bother her. That I was the daughter she didn't want any more. Amazing how those words ring in my head. I know in thier own messed up way they loved me but it never felt like it. You would come home from a trip let say summer camp and their was never a "Hi how was your week" They acted as though you never came back. I remember a rage my mom went into because I had not at age 5 cleaned my room well enough. She threw stuff everywhere and flipped over my mattress. Then told me to clean it all up. I was dumb founded I didn't know what to do. There was another time that I was running late for school because I was not again at age 5 putting on the right clothes so she hit me hard and I fell into the door. Another time was when I was 5 I had school in the after noon. I seen the mail man and decided I would help my mom and get it for her. I remember walking home and thinking she was going to be happy with me. Nope she was not. She made me stay in that room all day. Didn't feed me or nothing.
Well I will stop there see if anyone cares about my story to go on. THe next years are after we moved from Illinoise to Wisconsin.

Thank you for the comment. heart heart heart

Before we moved I was molested by this kid that lived accrost the street. He was in 6th grade and I was in first I think. I am told that my brother was molested by the older girl who was in high school. We never told My older brother told my other brother and that is the only reason any of us know about it.
My mother never wanted to move my father told her he was leaving with or without her. Being a mother of 4 with no diploma I think she felt trapped in having to go. I am told she was suicidal back then and that she threated to take us with her. We moved up here and my mother took her rath out on the rest of us. I remember her pounding on my stomac for lying to her. Anyway She didn't let us go out to play much. Being a caring parent I guess she didn't want us kids to get hurt in the big city. We were from the burbs or the country before. I started puting on lots of weight. My parents were good for making high fat foods. Baccon sausage fried potatos. The list goes on. It would later take my fathers life at 65 of a heart attack. It was hard to make friends for me. I was to nice I was told once. Not sure how that could be but it is. Near the end of our stay in the city I started to make a few friends. By the time we moved out to the country I had gained a lot.
We moved out to the country. The abuse from my mother continued and my older brother would molest me. I didn't fit in at school here either being molested and fat did not help at all. Well I will let you all digest that for a while I will come back with more later.

You will find some very caring, supportive people here who are always ready to listen! heart

Thank you for all the lovely coments and support it means the world to me. I write my story so I can find healing and hopes that others will find healing as well.

I was in the third grade when we moved from the city to the country. It was a nice house. Lots of room to run and play 80 akers worth. But there were not kids to play with for miles and miles. I was icolated. City kids are forein to the country kids. It was the next year the molestation started. HE asked me this long word and asked if I knew what it meant. I don't remember what it is now but he asked if he could show me. I said yes being curiouse not thinking when I said it if it was anything bad. Well then he asked me to get undressed be cause of what happened with the kid next door I knew was was about to happen. I tried hard to get out of it but he would not hear of it. This abuse would go on for about three years till after I got my period. I was scared to death to get pregnant so when he propositioned me I ran for it. He never asked after that. I reported him when that movie came out "SOMETHING ABOUT AMILIA" It was long drawn out thing. I told a friend who told a teacher so then I had to tell the teacher. Then she told the guidance councelor so then I had to tell her again. Then I had to tell the officer. Then the social worker. It was friday. I will tell anyone never report on a friday. It can wait till monday. I had to go home and face my mother. Who by this point the social worker had told.
I got "wait till your father finds out" To me that Meant I was in trouble
I got " Do you want your brother kicked to the street" Well no. I just didn't want him touching me any more.
I got "Your supposed to wait till marriage well it is to late that for now" Made me feel dirty.
Well not much came from the whole thing. I became the bad guy and my brother was only the good guy in my mother's eyes. My father never spoke to to either of us for this of the subject it didn't happen. I feel for my Mom I do it had to be hard to have it be her two children. It is not like you take the side of one over the other. If it wasn't for all the abuse I got from her I would feel down right sorry for her. But well I in some way think she was to blame being that she didn't interact with her children nor did she teach us anything useful just to do as she said and that is it. I don't trust my brother I have lots of reasons that I am sure you will hear as my story goes on. I forgive him but I don't trust him. Anyway my mother got worst toward me. Everyday I would come home from school and I would get yelled at for something. The salt and pepper shakers in the wrong place. A smuge on the stove. Those little things would go into her telling me how worthless I was and how I was never going to amount to anything. I would hear her at nice talking all nice to my brother. He thought he could do no wrong. Yeah what ever. It was shortly that he got caught steeling from my uncle's business. He was unemployed for a while. The final straw of him living with us was when my mom got really sick with strep throat. It was so bad that she could not talk and be understood. The phone was disconnected because my brother didn't pay is long distance bill. WHich by the way ANY CALLS made out side of the town was long distance. Anyway my mom's friend came and got her. SHe took her to the hospital. I guess had she waited one more day she would have died. My father came home that night picked up the phone when hearing it was dead slammed it to the ground. Next day he was told to pack his sh** and leave. He moved in with my grandma. Who he stole from. I don't want to rush myself so we will let you all digest that and I will contiune on later.

That is some really twisted crap tru. I have to wonder if your mom was abused by her parents.

*HUGS ya!!