www.abuse-survivors.org.uk
Home About Us Forum Site Map
Frogs' Story

Born in the 79 to a mother and a father and an older brother. Three Grandparents, my mothers father died when i was three I do have one memory of him. My fathers parents oh and his brother, lived just up the road. I never really gelled with my grandmother I actually didnt like being left with her, my grandfather was the best man I will ever know, his love was inconditionally and he made me feel so special. I new before mum and dad left for the hospital that night he had already died - I was distrort, I never have really got over it. I still talk to him. even now.

The house we lived in was farily big, and it was cold with the only heat being and open coal fire.

My grandmother told us a story of a ghost standing at the top of the stairs my father reckoned she never did but I remeber it. MY brother never liked me as kids hated that I got all the attenion I was miss goody two shoes, little did they all know I had my own rebellin even way back then. I was very younge primary school age if not before, we lived in a small village there were only two other girls my age that went to the local schools one her mother would make me play with her younger sister becuase I was such a retard, the other didnt like me either, my mother would take me and this other girl to school she would always hold my mums hand - I was so jeaslous, she was never nice to me my mother not behind closed doors anyway.

Hoildays - normal days a day would always end in tears, my fathers favourite saying "it will end in tears if you don't behave yourselves" My brother would love it when I got into trouble - he got alot of shit as well more than I did being told off all the time. shouted at night after night after night. I would have to lie in bed and listen to it as he did - then I would have to go calm her down it was expected of me - if I didn't she would be more upset and then more trouble, more tortue.

I would hear my father talk about me one meory I have when I was off ill from school she faking it theres nothing wrong with her. he talked about me as though I was so evil. as though I was such a little bitch.

My father would always give me so much shit I would lose my temper and shout I tryed so hard not to let my temper escape but I would get to a point were I could not take anymore, and then I would just blow. Chirst was that ever a mistake, then the reall fear of what I had done would kick in. It would take a few hours and then days after this of acting on my part after I had shouted at dad I would run up to my bedroom she would fallow I would be crying she would shake me "stop crying" "stop crying" he would then apper at the door he would talk to my mother as though I was not there, shes play acting. again he would talk about me as what I can only discribe as I was a little evil bitch, his eyes were dangerous I was in grave danger at this times, my mother would get rid of dad she would sooth it over and then say almost striaght away rightnow stop cryaing wash your face and go apploigies to your father. I justed wanted abit of time to myself after that just wanted to cry, it hurt, but no straight away had to wash my face then go downstaires and say sorry and he would then watch me like I was a bomb waiting to go off - he would try and antaganise me into blowing up again.

It took so much of my strength not to blow up - I had to act so finly with no slip whatsoever if I sliped even the slightest amount I was done for, really done for. this acting would have to go on for usally a week sometimes longer, I would have to sit with them all the time I coul not go to my bedroom "oh no" that would be a slip I learnt that one, I would have to play downstaires or watch tv with them all there my fathers eyes watching me - waiting for an excuse, to punish me.

The there was a reprive I could relax a little test the water and if I was lucky I could relax, then the silent tears would fall from my eyes at night, the silent judders of my body as I cried and then I would make a gasp noise and I would instantly stop crying - my breathing was fast I had to to breath so slow so quite almost as though I was sufficating myself I coulnot under any circumstances be heard if I was I was in the shit big time. Thenwhen the coast was clear and I knew I ahd not been heard hopefully I could force myself again to stop crying.
i would have to get to the bathroom without being noticed and wash my face so the eivedence did not shown in the morning.

my legs were pulled apart and my legs pulled down so I was lying, it was in the hallway, I was voiladated. I deserved it I was evil it was my punishment.

MY bedroom the black snake I hated that the most, it was awful I was open I had no protection no trousers. The same patteren month after month year after year I knew one day I would be free, I wished on the bright star every night and sometimes I saw it during the day - I felt special as though I was being looked after.

That time in my life was the worse I was alone, no were to run no one to run to no help no nothing, builed at school - no were no one. How I am here today I will never quite know.

Dad would go get coal from outside in the winter for the fire I would follow at alitlee distance he would have it so hot it would sometimes make me sick, I would run out for a few seconds fesh air it was like a drop of water from being in a desert staved of water for days, so tortrouse. There right when the say its not the sexual act itself it is what is behind it, with him it was the evil I was litrally a piece of skum to him, eveil little bitch _ I heard him call me that.

He talks about women even now with the same disgust.
HE would touch my breats or what I had of them - I felt so distgusting he knew I hated it so he did it more, he would just torture me with thoses fucking mind games he knew I was afirad he knew the bastered he knew how he was killing me and thrivied on it. He hated me I was and still am a piece of akum shit I smell I am evil and I conspare behind his back - he has to teach me the lessons. Yet other dayd he can be as nice as pie. The bastered.

This enough for me for now. I am sure I will write more again

Frog

 

Back to stories menu

 

Abuse Survivors ~ Depression ~ OCD ~ Schizophrenia ~ Self Harm ~ Eating Disorders
BPD ~ Counselling ~ E-therapy ~ Legal advice ~ BPD book ~ Distance learning Courses
Dissociation ~ Struggling parents ~ Mental health dating ~ PD's for professionals ~ Volunteering