My Secret Pain

Without making a long story, My mother had an affair out of wedlok and I was born 9 months later. My name from my first rememberance was Little Bastard.  Not only was I not wanted by her or her husband, My real father packed up and left after my moms husband beat the heck out of him.  I was blamed for every problem they had from that day forward. My firsy memory is being held by my motherand the falling fast hand slaming my head into a wall. I remember that and I was 10 months old. I had a concusion and spent time in the hospital. I found out threw medical records that by 10 months I already had a broken leg, broken arm, multiple ant bits by being left on the gropund outside. Burnt fingers and many lacerations on my face. Noone ever made an attempt to remove me from the home. This was in the 1950's.  I was less than a year old up to this piont. At 14 months we moved to the country in a old farm house. Just across the fence in the back yard was an old piece of farm equipment, old and rusty. There was a large Hornets nest hanging from a lower part of it. I remember standin at the fence and looking at them flying in and out. Suddenly my mother threw a large branch into the nest and took off running, She went in the house and never offered to help me get away. I was stung multiple times and ending up in the hospital again. Of course the story was I poked the nest.  After that it was full body lams into the wall, Being kicked down 16 flights of stairs. Hit the head with a fist so often I cant count them all. I was always being locked in a closet or the basemaent when thay would go somplace after I got to be 5 or 6. my mother would lock the bathroom door and not open it when I had to use it. She made me stand in front of the door until I went in my pants. If I moved I would get hit with a baseball bat. After I would mess myself her and her friend would laugh and make fun of me. Most of the time she would make me go outside to clean myself up. When I was 7,  I was coming back into the house after feeding the dog. My mother would never feed the dog anything but leftover scraps. I would save my milk from my cereal and tearup a few pieces of bread and my a few cherrios for the dog. Otherwise the dog might not get any food at all. My mother had seen what I done and started cussing before I reached the back door. When I started to enter the doorway she grabbed the bowl from my hand and pushed mu head into the door caseing. We had a hook latch on the back door and the piont of the latch went through my skin in my eyebrow and kept right on going until I had a rip about 4 inches long. I fell to the floor. My mother hen said to me "Dont tell me I done that ****, Now go to school."
It was wintertime and I had a puffy coat made of a slick nylon. By the time I got to school the inside of my coat was covered with blood from it running down my face and neck into my coat. When I got to school my teacher sent me to the nurse. She called my mother. They asked me what happened that I got this cut. About this time my mother walked threw the door, I told them I fell on the ice.
After hundreds of slaps, hits, pushes ,broken tailbone, broken fingers, when I was ten she tripped me on purpose. I got uo and pushed her down. All at the same time I was yelling as loud as I could. She tried to get up and I pushed her down again. I yold her I wasnt going to get hit anymore and that from now on I was going to fight back. One of our nieghbors called the sherriff. It was a big deal. Never got hit again, The cussing went on, I done my own laundry and cooking from that day forward. I got job part time on a farm and bought my own food and furniture, I had to put a lock on my door to keep my mother out. At 17 my stepdad help me get my own place. I never went back. I havent had any communication at all with my mother for years.
And I dont plan on either. Ill not go to her fureral either. I tried for years to make my mother proud of me. Nothing worked so I stopped. My life is so much better without the bullshitt.
RAChapman RAChapman
2 Responses May 20, 2012

Dude, your so-called mom (or, can I say baby-carrier?) was deeply troubled and sadistic. I know you wanted love from her, but she was too dangerous to be trusted. As for your biological dad, he couldn't be trusted either because abandoning such a vulnerable little kid you once were to such a screeching, raging **** has to be the ultimate in his selfish acts. You see, your baby-carrier, alongside her slimy **** of a friend, has been a helpless bully who chose to use your youth, as well as you vulnerabilities and even your amazing cache of personal skills for her own sick, sadistic gratification instead of simply being mature and helping herself do things that really work in her everyday life. None of that crap is your fault; if anything, it's her own fault because she chose to abuse you; she just didn't want to accept any of her own responsibilities as a parent who was supposed to take care of you, keep you safe, encourage you and be there for you, all of which she failed to do. See her criminally insane behavior, not her image; what a sad, sorry old ***** that she really was, just for constantly grabbing for a victim who would give her whatever she wanted, so she didn't have to even take care of herself. Please understand that her immature, childish behavior really sent you a very strong message that she had no intention of helping herself/being a mature, responsible parent/changing her dysfunctional ways of life for any reason, no matter how nice you were to her. As much as she could pretend sometimes, she just didn't care. Help yourself, not her; she's the adult who needs to help herself...and if not, then that's her own issue. Plus, reaching out to her, especially during the hornet incident, was just like going back to the same lion's den over and over again, expecting for a different result each time; she really wanted you to do this because that gave her someone to bully, which she seemed to get a high from. Please recognize her unhealthy behavior as well as what can still happen in your life with others in order to help yourself prevent the cycle of abuse and helplessness. For starters, never be alone with any abusers again. Oh, and I hope your baby-carrier got incarcerated into the mental hospital/prison for all those terrible, sadistic crimes that she seemed to enjoy committing against you because you did nothing wrong.

Wow...there's really nothing that can be said or anything that can make it better. I'm so sorry you had to live through that he'll. I can only fathom how you got through it. I hope you have happiness and love in your life now. I really do!