Posting this on the day after my 41st birthday. TW child abuse.
I was prompted to post when I was looking through old posts. There was one that stuck out to me in regards to my adoptive father, a couple days after he passed. I stated that he wasn't touchy feely, but we knew he cared.
I lied. My dad didn't give a damn about us beyond what we could do for him. I hate so much that it took me so long to be honest. My dad was abusive. Once we got to be around the age of 11, the physical stuff stopped, and the emotional and mental abuse really kicked in. Threats of being kicked out, or given back to my bio parents were pretty frequent. Eventually I did everything I could to just avoid him as much as possible.
He didnt like me. At all. He made that clear as I got older. He got worse after mom died. Its just, looking back I see everything unfolding and I understand now. I understand why my coworkers, when I would share things, would ask" How are you so well adjusted" I have no damn clue.
When I hit puberty he was obsessed. I hid the fact I had gotten my period for years. Dont ask me how I pulled it off. I dont think I did completely. He got my sister to check if I was wearing a bra every day. She acted like that was normal. To make me stand in front of her and let her feel my shoulders. That, and many other comments caused me to turn on myself. I ate more, I refused to do more then the bare essentials in terms of hygiene. I rebelled against deodorant for crying out loud.
Yet, any attempt at trying to be independent was squashed. My mother was blind, and from the time I was 7, i felt like I had to help her. I was basically put in the role of moms helper. I didnt mind at first, but as I got older things other kids did were denied me. Sleep overs at others houses wasnt done. Unless I lived on the same block. Two occasions where I was allowed, he made it such a miserable experience that I stopped asking. Movies were allowed strangely.
I dont know, I'm just working through a lot of things right now. And it's scaring me.
I lied. My dad didn't give a damn about us beyond what we could do for him. I hate so much that it took me so long to be honest. My dad was abusive. Once we got to be around the age of 11, the physical stuff stopped, and the emotional and mental abuse really kicked in. Threats of being kicked out, or given back to my bio parents were pretty frequent. Eventually I did everything I could to just avoid him as much as possible.
He didnt like me. At all. He made that clear as I got older. He got worse after mom died. Its just, looking back I see everything unfolding and I understand now. I understand why my coworkers, when I would share things, would ask" How are you so well adjusted" I have no damn clue.
When I hit puberty he was obsessed. I hid the fact I had gotten my period for years. Dont ask me how I pulled it off. I dont think I did completely. He got my sister to check if I was wearing a bra every day. She acted like that was normal. To make me stand in front of her and let her feel my shoulders. That, and many other comments caused me to turn on myself. I ate more, I refused to do more then the bare essentials in terms of hygiene. I rebelled against deodorant for crying out loud.
Yet, any attempt at trying to be independent was squashed. My mother was blind, and from the time I was 7, i felt like I had to help her. I was basically put in the role of moms helper. I didnt mind at first, but as I got older things other kids did were denied me. Sleep overs at others houses wasnt done. Unless I lived on the same block. Two occasions where I was allowed, he made it such a miserable experience that I stopped asking. Movies were allowed strangely.
I dont know, I'm just working through a lot of things right now. And it's scaring me.