Child Abuse Thread

[Pottslande]

I've looked around the forums for something like this, and it's probably been brought up a few times on the forums, but I wanted this thread for people who have been through any form of child abuse to talk about their experiences.

If you have been a victim of child abuse, don't be afraid to post here, no matter how you feel about it "maybe not being abuse" or similar. If you're posting here, please don't try to turn this into a one-uping contest about who had it worse in your childhood. I've seen this happen too often on other forums, and it gets us nowhere.

I'm writing this thread because I have been a victim of child abuse, at the hands of my female parent. I've been physically and emotionally abused throughout most of my childhood. I've often been called a slut, whore, bitch, and various other names without any known provocation. I've been hit, slapped, kicked, hair pulled, had things thrown at me, watched my parents have horrible fights where my mother once threw a knife at my dad and then screamed that he was beating her, when he wasn't even touching her.

I finally decided to put an end to it last year. One day my mother was angry with me on a drive to school because according to her I was studying the wrong thing. She tried to take my books away, but I held onto them, and she dug her nails deep into my wrist, causing several large cuts. It wasn't much, but it was the first bit of physical evidence I'd ever had, so the next day after some discussion with my boyfriend I finally went into my school's health office and confessed everything. It went on her record, the police had a talk with her, a social worker talked with both of us. And throughout it all, I felt guilty, as if I had done the wrong thing, as if I'd complained of nothing, and it didn't help that my mother told me that I had in fact complained of nothing, and that we got a young social worker who went into panic mode when I told her my story when an older social worker would have "understood".

The physically abuse, at least, has stopped, since if any more physical abuse is ever reported from her we would be separated. The emotional abuse has not, however, though she says she's "trying to get better", she isn't. And I can't report emotional abuse.

Which brings up the questions of this thread:

1) How do you think the prosecution of child abuse is in your country? (as in, the country in which you live, not your NS country). Where I live at least, it seems that police will generally not listen to child abuse cases unless there's physical proof-that is, there has been physical or sexual abuse.

2) What is the line between discipline and abuse? Is a parent spanking a kid different from a parent smacking a kid across the face? Are both acceptable for discipline in various scenarios?

3) Has the definition of abuse changed over time? Are grandparents or parents who beat their kids for days accepted because they lived in a different time?

[Grenartia]

I've looked around the forums for something like this, and it's probably been brought up a few times on the forums, but I wanted this thread for people who have been through any form of child abuse to talk about their experiences.

If you have been a victim of child abuse, don't be afraid to post here, no matter how you feel about it "maybe not being abuse" or similar. If you're posting here, please don't try to turn this into a one-uping contest about who had it worse in your childhood. I've seen this happen too often on other forums, and it gets us nowhere.

I'm writing this thread because I have been a victim of child abuse, at the hands of my female parent. I've been physically and emotionally abused throughout most of my childhood. I've often been called a slut, whore, bitch, and various other names without any known provocation. I've been hit, slapped, kicked, hair pulled, had things thrown at me, watched my parents have horrible fights where my mother once threw a knife at my dad and then screamed that he was beating her, when he wasn't even touching her.

I finally decided to put an end to it last year. One day my mother was angry with me on a drive to school because according to her I was studying the wrong thing. She tried to take my books away, but I held onto them, and she dug her nails deep into my wrist, causing several large cuts. It wasn't much, but it was the first bit of physical evidence I'd ever had, so the next day after some discussion with my boyfriend I finally went into my school's health office and confessed everything. It went on her record, the police had a talk with her, a social worker talked with both of us. And throughout it all, I felt guilty, as if I had done the wrong thing, as if I'd complained of nothing, and it didn't help that my mother told me that I had in fact complained of nothing, and that we got a young social worker who went into panic mode when I told her my story when an older social worker would have "understood".

The physically abuse, at least, has stopped, since if any more physical abuse is ever reported from her we would be separated. The emotional abuse has not, however, though she says she's "trying to get better", she isn't. And I can't report emotional abuse.

Which brings up the questions of this thread:

1) How do you think the prosecution of child abuse is in your country? (as in, the country in which you live, not your NS country). Where I live at least, it seems that police will generally not listen to child abuse cases unless there's physical proof-that is, there has been physical or sexual abuse.

2) What is the line between discipline and abuse? Is a parent spanking a kid different from a parent smacking a kid across the face? Are both acceptable for discipline in various scenarios?

3) Has the definition of abuse changed over time? Are grandparents or parents who beat their kids for days accepted because they lived in a different time?

I was not abused per se. But, about 21 months ago (September 2010), due to complex and unforseen circumstances, I began to live with my mom's mother, Ruth, and her husband, Haskel. The environment they created, again, was not abusive (though several friends I consulted with certainly considered it to be walking a fine line), but it was far from healthy.

For the first few months, things were relatively fine (Ruth and I never had gotten along for some reason), until one day in April. It was a Thursday, the last day before Spring Break. On the way to the bus stop, Ruth told me to only bring one bookbag (I brought two with me because keeping all of my books in my locker would cause me to be late for class all the time, something I painstakingly managed to get Ruth and Haskel to understand). I told her that I wasn't going to, because I didn't know if I was going to need my books, or even which ones I'd need (so I'd have to bring both, as they couldn't be consolidated), and I wasn't going to risk getting a detention for lack of supplies when I got back to school. She said I didn't have a choice. So, when the bus came, I took both anyways, because I figured that surely a rational person wouldn't get too pissed off at somebody actually trying not to get a detention.

If I ever had any slight indications as to Ruth and Haskel's irrationality before, when I got home that afternoon, all doubts were erased. Aside from being yelled at by the two of them non-stop for over an hour, and having every electronic device I owned confiscated for two weeks (except for my phone, which I got a week later only because I was invited to a prom, and the only reason I didn't get held back from doing that was because Ruth didn't want to ruin the girl's night), I was forced to walk the entire damn subdivision until sundown (turned out to be about 5 hours in 90F heat), and due to how fucking pissed off they were, I didn't dare think about grabbing any water on my way out. Needless to say, when I got back, I was fairly dehydrated, though it wasn't anything a few bottles of water couldn't handle. I immediately threw up after the first one, though I had no problems with the other two.

That night, I realized that two people who consider themselves justified in punishing me so harshly for such a minor offence didn't deserve my respect (If I were living with my parents, I would've expected such a punishment for nothing less than carjacking). From then on, I refused to refer to them as my grandparents whenever I could get away with it. The rest of that week, I spent walking around the neighborhood during the hottest part of the day (and ended up getting a nasty sunburn, though I managed to drink plenty of water, so I avoided dehydration). I seriously considered running away, especially since they went out during the day to run errands, leaving me time to find out where my stuff was hidden, though I decided against it, because I figured I'd get found by the cops, who would promptly return me to Ruth and Haskel's 'care'. As soon as school started back again, I began dreading the bus ride home.

About a month later, at my aunt's suggestion, Ruth signed me up for therapy. During evaluation, I was asked several questions (including: have you ever considered or attempted suicide?; have you ever considered or attempted to run away?; etc.) with Ruth sitting right next to me. I had not considered suicide (yet, though I never attempted it), though I had considered running away. How the brain-dead people there could expect me to answer such questions honestly with the very cause of my problems in the same room is beyond me.

During that summer, I had a job, and some close friends here on NS, but nothing else. The situation gradually deteriorated. Increasingy, Ruth and Haskel felt the need to invade my privacy (which greatly distressed me for fear that they would stumble across not only my mentioning the various day-to-day shit I put up with, but also friendships with people I didn't know IRL, and what would've been the most devastating of all, my sexual orientation), and to rearrange my room (which was the only place I felt even relatively safe) without my permission.

Things only got worse as summer dragged on, and eventually, the school year. Confrontations between Ruth and Haskel and I got increasingly closer to violence. Sometimes Haskel would threaten to take me out in the back yard and kick my ass (though I imagine even he knew that I'd kick his ass if I was pushed to that point) for simple things like me not wanting to move shit around in my room. The real kicker is that the therapist, for a period of several months, literally forgot to allocate a portion of the hour to one-on-one time with me and herself, meaning that no real progress could be made, as the very source of my problems was in the room with me, prompting me to keep quiet.

This caused me to despair. It seemed as if I'd be in that hellhole forever. I honestly believed it would be a miracle if I kept my sanity past my birthday. I knew I was close to getting explosively violent. Then, in October 2011, it happened. The final straw. I had to do some work online for one of my classesthat needed to be turned in the next day. However, Ruth's recent privacy invasions had caused her to restrict the only room I could use my laptop in to the dining room. The chair was highly uncomfortable, which didn't help my need to use the bathroom, so I dragged my laptop and the stand into the bathroom, where I could take care of two urgent matters at once. That is, until Ruth started slapping the shit out of me. I grabbed her arms to keep her from slapping me, when Haskel came in, and she got out. I had Haskel backed up against the bathroom door, my arms in such a position to keep him from striking me. After letting out several screams that can only be described as primal, apparently scaring Haskel shitless, we came to a truce of sorts. I would let Haskel down, and he would get out of the bathroom and arrange for me to fly to live with my mom. Of course, she demanded to get a chance to scold the shit out of me, and after being informed that what I had done was assault and battery (though I still consider it self-defense, as I didn't do anything more than what I felt was needed to prevent myself from being harmed) I began to wonder, if worse came to worse, and I ended up going to prison, how bad it would really be. Fortunately, though, Mom said she'd take me, and although she was pissed off at first, when I got up here and was able to explain myself, she wasn't pissed off enough to kill me anymore.

1. I feel that authorities are too afraid (when they aren't being brain-dead) to break up families, even when there is abuse. Here in Tennessee, there was recently an investigative report done by a local news station that showed that many times, children who are the subject of a child abuse report, are allowed to stay with their families, even when there is clear evidence of abuse in the home.

2. My opinion is that the punishment should fit the transgression (which should be a legitimate one), and that the exact reasons why that was done was wrong and why the punishment is being given should be made abundantly clear.

3. I believe it has changed, for the better. But there is still more work to be done. Different forms of abuse need to be better understood, and defined, so that a child won't have to be physically or sexually abused to be recognized as a victim of abuse.

[Nazi Flower Power]

And throughout it all, I felt guilty, as if I had done the wrong thing, as if I'd complained of nothing

It doesn't sound like you were complaining about nothing. You shouldn't feel guilty about sticking up for yourself.

The physically abuse, at least, has stopped, since if any more physical abuse is ever reported from her we would be separated. The emotional abuse has not, however, though she says she's "trying to get better", she isn't. And I can't report emotional abuse.

Well, technically you can. I can't promise that it will do any good, but you can report it. Social services is supposed to protect you from emotional abuse as well as physical.

Which brings up the questions of this thread:

1) How do you think the prosecution of child abuse is in your country? (as in, the country in which you live, not your NS country). Where I live at least, it seems that police will generally not listen to child abuse cases unless there's physical proof-that is, there has been physical or sexual abuse.

I think that's part of a larger problem that society does not take emotional pain seriously. It's the same with mental illnesses: If you have a mental illness, but you aren't physically harming yourself, it's hard to convince people that the illness is serious.

2) What is the line between discipline and abuse? Is a parent spanking a kid different from a parent smacking a kid across the face? Are both acceptable for discipline in various scenarios?

Discipline is meant to teach a kid to behave. It's not meant to make the kid feel bad about themselves in general. Spanking is only acceptable as punishment for something specific that the kid did wrong (e.g. stealing something from a sibling, purposely breaking something, etc.) not for generalized things like being a disappointment, being a bitch, etc. If you spank them without a specific reason, that's abuse.

3) Has the definition of abuse changed over time?

Yes, very much so. It used to be considered perfectly normal to beat kids. It's good that it's changed, though. There is getting to be less and less violence in the world, and that is better for everyone.

[Camicon]

I've looked around the forums for something like this, and it's probably been brought up a few times on the forums, but I wanted this thread for people who have been through any form of child abuse to talk about their experiences.

If you have been a victim of child abuse, don't be afraid to post here, no matter how you feel about it "maybe not being abuse" or similar. If you're posting here, please don't try to turn this into a one-uping contest about who had it worse in your childhood. I've seen this happen too often on other forums, and it gets us nowhere.

I'm writing this thread because I have been a victim of child abuse, at the hands of my female parent. I've been physically and emotionally abused throughout most of my childhood. I've often been called a slut, whore, bitch, and various other names without any known provocation. I've been hit, slapped, kicked, hair pulled, had things thrown at me, watched my parents have horrible fights where my mother once threw a knife at my dad and then screamed that he was beating her, when he wasn't even touching her.

I finally decided to put an end to it last year. One day my mother was angry with me on a drive to school because according to her I was studying the wrong thing. She tried to take my books away, but I held onto them, and she dug her nails deep into my wrist, causing several large cuts. It wasn't much, but it was the first bit of physical evidence I'd ever had, so the next day after some discussion with my boyfriend I finally went into my school's health office and confessed everything. It went on her record, the police had a talk with her, a social worker talked with both of us. And throughout it all, I felt guilty, as if I had done the wrong thing, as if I'd complained of nothing, and it didn't help that my mother told me that I had in fact complained of nothing, and that we got a young social worker who went into panic mode when I told her my story when an older social worker would have "understood".

The physically abuse, at least, has stopped, since if any more physical abuse is ever reported from her we would be separated. The emotional abuse has not, however, though she says she's "trying to get better", she isn't. And I can't report emotional abuse.

Which brings up the questions of this thread:

1) How do you think the prosecution of child abuse is in your country? (as in, the country in which you live, not your NS country). Where I live at least, it seems that police will generally not listen to child abuse cases unless there's physical proof-that is, there has been physical or sexual abuse.

2) What is the line between discipline and abuse? Is a parent spanking a kid different from a parent smacking a kid across the face? Are both acceptable for discipline in various scenarios?

3) Has the definition of abuse changed over time? Are grandparents or parents who beat their kids for days accepted because they lived in a different time?

My mother being a police officer, she deals with things like this on a regular basis, unfortunate as they are.

1) What it all boils down to is that the police have no judicial power (in Canada, at least) to remove children from the homes of their guardians without physical proof, that has been documented, and shows a clear pattern of abuse. The outcry of parents when you remove their children from them, even when there is irrefutable proof that the guardian(s) have been abusing the child, is... ridiculous. To say the least. To give the police any more leniency would be public-relations suicide. In my city at least, the general public tends to trust/respect police (relatively speaking, of course), making their jobs one helluva lot easier. Losing public support of any kind is something that can rarely be afforded, by the police force of any city. As horrendous as child abuse is, the legal system here already treads a fine line between what the public views as acceptable action, versus morally unacceptable action.

2) Abuse is knocking your kids around for being kids, or for no reason at all. Corporal punishment should never be a go-to parenting strategy. Used sparingly, and in very specific situations, spanking a kid (or maybe giving them a slap upside the head if they're older) can be a very effective way of correcting some sort of (self) destructive behaviour.

3) What is considered acceptable corporal punishment has certainly changed over time. Personally, I think that parenting strategies have become too soft. I think the largely critical view of parenting that people aged 40+ experienced has become as such more due to the fact that we, as a society, have become extremely reluctant to use corporal punishment. We look to the mistakes the previous generation made, and blame the parenting techniques, while simultaneously justifying our current, softer approach. Give society another four decades and you may see a swing in the opposite direction, as parents use our current parenting techniques as a way to explain mistakes made by our generation, and then justify an increase in corporal punishment in their own parenting techniques.

[Nanatsu no Tsuki]

Not sure if this would count but...

My father was mentally degrading toward me. He used to call me 'bendy legs'- I had problems with my legs because I was born with one of my hips out of place and had to use corrective boots and bars on my legs from an early age all the way to primary school, and 'fatty' when I was growing up. My mother would fight him for it, bitterly, but he never stopped.

It hurt, far more than blows would've. But I guess one day his words ceased to matter, both the good (which were few) and the bad. It didn't matter what he called me. I realized I wasn't a bendy legs or a fatty.

[Cenetra]

I predict that this thread will soon be filled with posts claiming that all mentioned cases of abuse are "normal corporal punishment" and that everyone posting here is a "spoiled, whiny, entitled brat."

NSG, I beg of you, prove me wrong.

[Pottslande]

I predict that this thread will soon be filled with posts claiming that all mentioned cases of abuse are "normal corporal punishment" and that everyone posting here is a "spoiled, whiny, entitled brat."

NSG, I beg of you, prove me wrong.

Yes, but it wouldn't bother me, nothing I haven't heard before.

It's just like with other threads dealing with abuse. Some people have very harsh definitions of what's right and wrong.

To be frank, I'm just happy this thread got a few posts.

[Yaltabaoth]

Not sure if this would count but...

My father was mentally degrading toward me. He used to call me 'bendy legs'- I had problems with my legs because I was born with one of my hips out of place and had to use corrective boots and bars on my legs from an early age all the way to primary school, and 'fatty' when I was growing up. My mother would fight him for it, bitterly, but he never stopped.

It hurt, far more than blows would've. But I guess one day his words ceased to matter, both the good (which were few) and the bad. It didn't matter what he called me. I realized I wasn't a bendy legs or a fatty.

It hurt you, he knew that, and he continued to do it.
I'd say that counts.

Good on you for realising he was full of shit.

[AiliailiA]

I was not abused. But good luck with this thread anyway: it could help some people out who were abused (or still live with it).

[AiliailiA]

Not sure if this would count but...

My father was mentally degrading toward me. He used to call me 'bendy legs'- I had problems with my legs because I was born with one of my hips out of place and had to use corrective boots and bars on my legs from an early age all the way to primary school, and 'fatty' when I was growing up. My mother would fight him for it, bitterly, but he never stopped.

It hurt, far more than blows would've. But I guess one day his words ceased to matter, both the good (which were few) and the bad. It didn't matter what he called me. I realized I wasn't a bendy legs or a fatty.

That sounds like emotional abuse to me. Teasing can be fun, but if it wasn't fun for you then your dad should have known that.


EDIT

[Petit Chevalia]

I was never abused - actually, my dad spoiled me. But I'm posting because my dad was emotionally and physically abused by his father, in the 1950s so there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. His dad was a drunk who stepped out on my mom-mom (grandmother) a lot, a real ass. My dad talks about it sometimes, but I get the feeling he's HEAVILY censoring it when talking about it to me, so I don't know the whole story. I know that my dad had three younger brothers he pretty much raised (but his grandparents, my grandmother's mom and dad, helped a lot). He told me one time that his brother Dennis was about 3 when he started clutching his stomach and screaming in pain. He was really freaked and his dad just kept yelling "Will someone shut that f****** kid up?" and wouldn't take him to the hospital. Not long after, Dennis died of, IIRC, a twisted bowel. I think that experience really affected him, by the way he talks about it. I wonder if he ever forgave his father for essentially letting his brother die. Eventually he called the cops on his dad for beating his mom (they didn't do anything, it was the '50s), then his grandfather pushed his dad down the stairs when he found out the asshole had been hitting his daughter. Didn't come around much after that.

I only mention it because I think that's why he's been careful about how he's treated me. The experience seems to have really been hard on him and I guess he doesn't wish anything even remotely like it on anyone. Just goes to show getting smacked around as a kid doesn't mean you have to repeat the cycle. He's done a great job, y'know? I'm really proud that he was able to overcome that.

[Ovisterra]

I'm very sorry to hear about your story. You're extremely brave and strong to have come through that ordeal.

1) How do you think the prosecution of child abuse is in your country? (as in, the country in which you live, not your NS country). Where I live at least, it seems that police will generally not listen to child abuse cases unless there's physical proof-that is, there has been physical or sexual abuse.

2) What is the line between discipline and abuse? Is a parent spanking a kid different from a parent smacking a kid across the face? Are both acceptable for discipline in various scenarios?

3) Has the definition of abuse changed over time? Are grandparents or parents who beat their kids for days accepted because they lived in a different time?

1. I can't say I know a great deal about it. I do know that physical punishment by parents is allowed, which frankly disgusts me.

2. Physical "discipline" = abuse

3. Yes, yes it has. It's a good thing. We're becoming less accepting of that kinda thing, which is good.

[Grenartia]

I'm very sorry to hear about your story. You're extremely brave and strong to have come through that ordeal.

1) How do you think the prosecution of child abuse is in your country? (as in, the country in which you live, not your NS country). Where I live at least, it seems that police will generally not listen to child abuse cases unless there's physical proof-that is, there has been physical or sexual abuse.

2) What is the line between discipline and abuse? Is a parent spanking a kid different from a parent smacking a kid across the face? Are both acceptable for discipline in various scenarios?

3) Has the definition of abuse changed over time? Are grandparents or parents who beat their kids for days accepted because they lived in a different time?

1. I can't say I know a great deal about it. I do know that physical punishment by parents is allowed, which frankly disgusts me.

2. Physical "discipline" = abuse

3. Yes, yes it has. It's a good thing. We're becoming less accepting of that kinda thing, which is good.

I feel that I must make the statement that there is a difference between discipline and abuse. I was often spanked by my parents, but they knew where the line was for what was appropriate and what was abuse, and didn't do anything beyond that line. In fact, they stayed as far below the line as possible (they always gave me a warning, then timeout, then spanking, and often told me that the spankings hurt them more than it hurt me). I was a rather mischievious child (I often pulled down my pants in public ), so the spankings did help to keep me in line.

Sometimes, you have to give physical punishment.

[Ovisterra]

I'm very sorry to hear about your story. You're extremely brave and strong to have come through that ordeal.



1. I can't say I know a great deal about it. I do know that physical punishment by parents is allowed, which frankly disgusts me.

2. Physical "discipline" = abuse

3. Yes, yes it has. It's a good thing. We're becoming less accepting of that kinda thing, which is good.

I feel that I must make the statement that there is a difference between discipline and abuse. I was often spanked by my parents, but they knew where the line was for what was appropriate and what was abuse, and didn't do anything beyond that line. In fact, they stayed as far below the line as possible (they always gave me a warning, then timeout, then spanking, and often told me that the spankings hurt them more than it hurt me). I was a rather mischievious child (I often pulled down my pants in public ), so the spankings did help to keep me in line.

Sometimes, you have to give physical punishment.

Considering the numerous studies that have shown the psychological damage hitting kids can do and the fact that I'm not in favour of exempting people from laws just because the crime was committed against their children, I maintain my position.

[Disserbia]

I live in the US, and I have the same opinion of the system here as the OP. I think that what is acceptable has changed in the last few generations...but I also think that its different for different people. My parents hit me in the face to discipline me and never "spanked" me, so I don't think its physical abuse, but then they didn't do it in an abusive way so I wouldn't think that anyway. When my parents were in school they got hit with rulers by the teachers and things, so maybe they have a different opinion on the issue than the average American parents and that influenced how they raised me. I don't know. I'm not a violent person though, I would never strike anyone as a form of discipline.

[Pottslande]

For me, when I become a parent, I won't even be spanking my kids. I have the same opinion as my dad-that just the idea of spanking my own kids just seems abhorrent. Not meaning I won't discipline my kids of course, I'll find other ways.

I don't think spanking should be illegal though, it's a valid form of discipline for some families, it's just that many parents don't really know how to handle it. When you spank or otherwise physically discipline your kids, you shouldn't do it in anger as a form of getting back at your kids, you should do it purely to teach a lesson.

Speaking of older generations and different times, I once tried to sort of mention what was happening to me with a group of my friends, one of which is our 40 year old Dungeon Master. As I kinda hinted toward the topic of child abuse (not naming myself) he started going on about how parents are too afraid to discipline their kids nowadays, how every kid knows the CPS number, and how he was beaten black and blue for an entire weekend for getting a C on his report card when he was a kid.

Then just today a lady who seemed a bit older than he was came to talk in our stress class about hypnotherapy. She mentioned how trauma victims become sonomblulant (sleep talkers) adult, and I asked her to clarify, excepted I said "abuse sufferers" instead of "trauma victims", and that prompted a similar rant from her about how Americans whine about being abused.

That doesn't help at all, and maybe people should think before speaking about those views. You don't know what the other person has gone through, especially if they might be hinting to their own abuse. They could be experiences brutal beatings at the hands of their drunk father, snide put downs and control issues with their mother, or forced blowjobs with their uncle, and you're going on about how children nowadays are too whiny and think they're being abused when their daddy tells them no. And then once you say that, that person starts believing that they themselves fall under that category, and they don't speak up.

[Nanatsu no Tsuki]

Not sure if this would count but...

My father was mentally degrading toward me. He used to call me 'bendy legs'- I had problems with my legs because I was born with one of my hips out of place and had to use corrective boots and bars on my legs from an early age all the way to primary school, and 'fatty' when I was growing up. My mother would fight him for it, bitterly, but he never stopped.

It hurt, far more than blows would've. But I guess one day his words ceased to matter, both the good (which were few) and the bad. It didn't matter what he called me. I realized I wasn't a bendy legs or a fatty.

It hurt you, he knew that, and he continued to do it.
I'd say that counts.

Good on you for realising he was full of shit.

It was a process. And I must thank my mother for being so supportive.

[Nazi Flower Power]

Speaking of older generations and different times, I once tried to sort of mention what was happening to me with a group of my friends, one of which is our 40 year old Dungeon Master. As I kinda hinted toward the topic of child abuse (not naming myself) he started going on about how parents are too afraid to discipline their kids nowadays, how every kid knows the CPS number, and how he was beaten black and blue for an entire weekend for getting a C on his report card when he was a kid.

That would be abuse, not discipline. There is no valid reason to beat a child for an entire weekend, and getting a bad grade isn't really the best thing to punish with corporal punishment. Corporal punishment works better for one-time incidents, not for a pattern of slacking off in school that has been going on for months.

[Yaltabaoth]

I have one sibling, a brother three years older than me.
He could do no wrong, and I could do no right.

This turned toxic, because my brother realised that he would always be believed over me, so would go out of his way to start fights with me.

The punishment for fighting was furious anger and shouting from my 6'4" barrel-chested father (which was frightening enough), who'd then drag me by my neck up the hall, put me over the bath (pants down), and belt me 'til I couldn't breathe from screaming, with my sadistic brother getting to watch/listen.
Alternatively I'd be hit with a heavy plastic stewing spoon from the kitchen, until it broke (which would also be my fault).

Mostly I'd already be sobbing in terror and pleading "pleasepleaseI'msorrypleasesorrydon'tplease" before he'd even got me to the bathroom, it never once stopped him.

If I tried to defend myself (verbally), or assert that I hadn't started it, I was "answering back", the punishment for which was also the angry belt.

And at some point, because I was always fighting with my brother but denying starting it, my parents came to the conclusion that I was a pathological liar. So they just started assuming I was lying all the time, without even checking.

The punishment for lying was, of course, the belt.
Denying I had lied about something also automatically constituted a lie...

And every time I was told: "You know lying / fighting / whatever-pissed-me-off-at-the-time is wrong, and you know the belt is the punishment for doing that. If we don't beat you, we'll be failing you as parents."

Rinse, repeat, pretty much daily for about 14 years.


(I'm 38 now, and I can still remember that feeling of terror and desperation as he dragged me up the hall. It will never leave me.)

[Aaraya]

Not sure if this counts but I think this is verbal abuse. My mom yells at me for no apparent reason at all and we'll be riding in a car together when she starts yelling at me and trying to smack me. I hate this. I have one little brother who is treated like royalty and never gets yelled at. She once called me a b***** and hit me across the face so hard that there was a hand mark there for 15 mins just because I look like my dad. She was abused by her dad but at least I have 3 more years until I go to college

[Grenartia]

Not sure if this counts but I think this is verbal abuse. My mom yells at me for no apparent reason at all and we'll be riding in a car together when she starts yelling at me and trying to smack me. I hate this. I have one little brother who is treated like royalty and never gets yelled at. She once called me a b***** and hit me across the face so hard that there was a hand mark there for 15 mins just because I look like my dad. She was abused by her dad but at least I have 3 more years until I go to college

Ouch.

I have one sibling, a brother three years older than me.
He could do no wrong, and I could do no right.

This turned toxic, because my brother realised that he would always be believed over me, so would go out of his way to start fights with me.

The punishment for fighting was furious anger and shouting from my 6'4" barrel-chested father (which was frightening enough), who'd then drag me by my neck up the hall, put me over the bath (pants down), and belt me 'til I couldn't breathe from screaming, with my sadistic brother getting to watch/listen.
Alternatively I'd be hit with a heavy plastic stewing spoon from the kitchen, until it broke (which would also be my fault).

Mostly I'd already be sobbing in terror and pleading "pleasepleaseI'msorrypleasesorrydon'tplease" before he'd even got me to the bathroom, it never once stopped him.

If I tried to defend myself (verbally), or assert that I hadn't started it, I was "answering back", the punishment for which was also the angry belt.

And at some point, because I was always fighting with my brother but denying starting it, my parents came to the conclusion that I was a pathological liar. So they just started assuming I was lying all the time, without even checking.

The punishment for lying was, of course, the belt.
Denying I had lied about something also automatically constituted a lie...

And every time I was told: "You know lying / fighting / whatever-pissed-me-off-at-the-time is wrong, and you know the belt is the punishment for doing that. If we don't beat you, we'll be failing you as parents."

Rinse, repeat, pretty much daily for about 14 years.


(I'm 38 now, and I can still remember that feeling of terror and desperation as he dragged me up the hall. It will never leave me.)

I feel that I must make the statement that there is a difference between discipline and abuse. I was often spanked by my parents, but they knew where the line was for what was appropriate and what was abuse, and didn't do anything beyond that line. In fact, they stayed as far below the line as possible (they always gave me a warning, then timeout, then spanking, and often told me that the spankings hurt them more than it hurt me). I was a rather mischievious child (I often pulled down my pants in public ), so the spankings did help to keep me in line.

Sometimes, you have to give physical punishment.

Considering the numerous studies that have shown the psychological damage hitting kids can do and the fact that I'm not in favour of exempting people from laws just because the crime was committed against their children, I maintain my position.

If you can name a better alternative to non-abusive physical punishment (like I received from my parents as a child) that is just as effective, I'm all ears.

[Individuality-ness]

My mother used to physically hit me when I was a young girl. It was a slap on the face, the arms, the buttocks, etc for talking back, and then a beat down with a 2x4 or whatever she could get her hands on. She often took a look at my naked body after that, to admire her handiwork and tell me that this was something I deserved. I never broke a bone, but whenever there was one of these spells, there were numerous bruises, which were covered up by the clothes I wore day after day to school.

Whenever I really misbehaved, I was dragged out of the house and locked outside for a few hours. I distinctly remember being locked out of the house in the middle of the night for a few hours when I was around 4 or 5 because I was unable to discern what 9+3 was.

She often verbally called me stupid as well when I was unable to bring home the good grades she wanted. Because of this, I grew up introverted. I shut myself down from the world. I began to have periods of extreme self-loathing, all because I feared what my mother would say. Having Asperger's doesn't help matters either.

November 4, 2005, when I was in sixth grade, she hit me with a coat hanger. I don't remember the reason why, but that day, I walked into first period and started to cry. At that point, I was so miserable that I was threatening suicide. They dragged me over to the school psychologist and made me tell the school authorities what was going on.

That night, I was doing my history homework when there was a knock on the door. At the door was a social worker-- he was there to access the situation. He didn't speak Cantonese, so I had to translate everything he said to my mother. That was the most mortifying thing of my life-- telling my mother how I had reported this to the authorities.

Next came the cops. Two cops came at the door. They took pictures of my mother, the 2x4. They asked me to change into shorts to see whether my thigh was bruised from the coat hanger. I lied and told them that I had crashed into my younger brother with my scooter. Somehow they believed me. They took away the 2x4 and told my mother that she was to submit to future social worker visits.

After the cops left, my mother turned on me. She was seething mad, and she was ready to pounce.

I spent a good part of the night locked in the bathroom, crying and saying that I was sorry.

They say that I was a hero-- that I saved my brother from abuse. In my mother's eyes, I had brought shame.

Eventually, she lessened the physical abuse and nowadays, she only calls me fat. But the scars of this abuse are still on me. To this day, I am still in a mostly emotionless state. I am my own worse critic. I cannot be assertive, because I fear that I could lash out and become my mother.

And that is the sad story of my life.

[Grenartia]

My mother used to physically hit me when I was a young girl. It was a slap on the face, the arms, the buttocks, etc for talking back, and then a beat down with a 2x4 or whatever she could get her hands on. She often took a look at my naked body after that, to admire her handiwork and tell me that this was something I deserved. I never broke a bone, but whenever there was one of these spells, there were numerous bruises, which were covered up by the clothes I wore day after day to school.

Whenever I really misbehaved, I was dragged out of the house and locked outside for a few hours. I distinctly remember being locked out of the house in the middle of the night for a few hours when I was around 4 or 5 because I was unable to discern what 9+3 was.

She often verbally called me stupid as well when I was unable to bring home the good grades she wanted. Because of this, I grew up introverted. I shut myself down from the world. I began to have periods of extreme self-loathing, all because I feared what my mother would say. Having Asperger's doesn't help matters either.

November 4, 2005, when I was in sixth grade, she hit me with a coat hanger. I don't remember the reason why, but that day, I walked into first period and started to cry. At that point, I was so miserable that I was threatening suicide. They dragged me over to the school psychologist and made me tell the school authorities what was going on.

That night, I was doing my history homework when there was a knock on the door. At the door was a social worker-- he was there to access the situation. He didn't speak Cantonese, so I had to translate everything he said to my mother. That was the most mortifying thing of my life-- telling my mother how I had reported this to the authorities.

Next came the cops. Two cops came at the door. They took pictures of my mother, the 2x4. They asked me to change into shorts to see whether my thigh was bruised from the coat hanger. I lied and told them that I had crashed into my younger brother with my scooter. Somehow they believed me. They took away the 2x4 and told my mother that she was to submit to future social worker visits.

After the cops left, my mother turned on me. She was seething mad, and she was ready to pounce.

I spent a good part of the night locked in the bathroom, crying and saying that I was sorry.

They say that I was a hero-- that I saved my brother from abuse. In my mother's eyes, I had brought shame.

Eventually, she lessened the physical abuse and nowadays, she only calls me fat. But the scars of this abuse are still on me. To this day, I am still in a mostly emotionless state. I am my own worse critic. I cannot be assertive, because I fear that I could lash out and become my mother.

And that is the sad story of my life.

Based on my observations, it seems that the fear of not being believed all too often keeps victims from speaking out. Don't blame yourself.

Your mother was right about one thing, however. You did bring shame- to her (and only her). And deservedly so. Its the least she deserves for what she did to you.

[Yaltabaoth]

thanks

My parents resolutely believed they were doing the right thing by beating me.

(Ironically they also used to tell me stories about the terrible things their parents did to them, while repeating some of those very same things on me…)

They didn't (and still don't) see what they did to me as abuse.

My beatings didn't make me respect their authority, they made me understand that their authority was false and hypocritical.
They didn't beat lying out of me, they made me more skilled at lying to them.

I will allow for emergencies or situations needing an immediate reaction, such as grabbing a child's hand to stop them burning themselves or stepping onto a road, breaking up a fight, or self-defense if the kid's being violent themselves.

Particularly the last one, if a child is being violent a physical response is of course necessary, but it should be to restrain, not to retaliate.

But how do you define the line between discipline and abuse?

What is an acceptable level of violence for an adult to use against a child?

I'd define it as the minimum amount of force necessary. Anything beyond that is abuse.

[Grenartia]

thanks

1. My parents resolutely believed they were doing the right thing by beating me.

2. (Ironically they also used to tell me stories about the terrible things their parents did to them, while repeating some of those very same things on me…)

3. They didn't (and still don't) see what they did to me as abuse.

4. My beatings didn't make me respect their authority, they made me understand that their authority was false and hypocritical.
They didn't beat lying out of me, they made me more skilled at lying to them.

I will allow for emergencies or situations needing an immediate reaction, such as grabbing a child's hand to stop them burning themselves or stepping onto a road, breaking up a fight, or self-defense if the kid's being violent themselves.

Particularly the last one, if a child is being violent a physical response is of course necessary, but it should be to restrain, not to retaliate.

5. But how do you define the line between discipline and abuse?

What is an acceptable level of violence for an adult to use against a child?

I'd define it as the minimum amount of force necessary. Anything beyond that is abuse.

1. That is really often the case.

2. I take it that they made the things their parents did to them seem way worse than the things they did to you? That seems to be quite often how abusive parents justify their actions.

3. Of course they don't. Because that would mean they were wrong.

And good parents can never be wrong. [/sarcasm]

4. I'm still highly reluctant to call my experience abuse, but I find myself having adopted a similar view of Ruth and Haskel, nonetheless.

5. I agree with your stance.