by Jennifer Moll

Created on: March 15, 2009

My earliest family memories are not happy ones, rather they are of getting spanked until I had an accident in my pants because I was playing with my younger sister too loud, or getting my hair pulled until I had knots all through my hair and lumps all over my head that it hurt me to brush my hair for a few days, or when I was told to take my glasses off so I could get smacked in the face, when that happened I sometimes saw stars and I just knew that could not be good.

Usually the bruise marks somehow always ended up being where my clothing would hide them so when I went to school the teachers could not see and I knew better than to tell. If I told then I would really be in for a good beating when I got home! But then again back in the 80's children didn't have as many rights as they do now, so they were probably right by telling me that if I told, no one would believe me and it is my fault for being so bad all the time.

I remember from as far back as first grade counting down the days until Friday because that meant I got to sleep and Grammy's house for the weekend and I knew I was safe for at least a day and a half.

As I got to middle school, I could not wait until I turned eighteen and was old enough to move out and be on my own. I just had to get out. The older I got, the worse the abuse got. The beatings got worse. I would join any and every club and sport possible just to keep me out of the house! The less I was home, the less chance I had of misbehaving, or so I thought. I was always found to be doing something wrong though, I just couldn't do anything right.

Finally high school came; I was still counting my time down. Only four years to go until I was able to get out of this nightmare. Now the abuse got worse yet, not only was I getting beat worse than any animal, but sexual abuse started. I really felt as though I was going out of my mind! I honestly did not know what to do. I ran away from home about three times. I also gotten myself into some trouble with alcohol one time that I was taken into the police station, but no charges were filed against me.

The only person that was keeping me somewhat on track was my grandmother and she now passed away and I completely fell into a deep depression. How can I possibly go on without her? My mother let's this horrible behavior go own, she even tells him that I am bad! How dare she? She is no mother!

All this behavior, beatings, sexual abuse from someone that is supposed to be my father I really don't understand how he can live with himself. I will never be able to find forgiveness in my lifetime for him. I have too much hatred.

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