Trauma|Abuse
Growing Up Terrified-What It’s Like to Live in Constant Fear
On childhood abuse and hating my father
I don’t remember a single solitary thing about my life before the age of 10.
I have no clue why. Some say it’s trauma-related. Honestly, I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter.
I do, however, remember my first beating at the age of 10. I’ll never forget it. Don’t get me wrong, though; it’s not like I relive that day every day of my life or anything.
Nothing like that. Some shit you just don’t forget.
This is how it went down, and it was the beginning of my years living in terror.
The day it started
So I decided one day I wanted to skip school with the one and only friend I had. For some reason, she did whatever I said to do. Her mother hated me. We were in Grade 6. I hated school. The girls were so mean to me.
We skipped school, hung out at her place all day, played hairdresser, and sang songs at the top of our lungs. It was a fun day!
I guess the school called Mom at work. I had no idea.
When she got home from work that day, she unleashed a fury I had never seen before. The only part of that…
