Adopted - Abused

From the time I turned 4, my a parents had their own kids.  At that point in time,. I became known as "that thing" "garbage" and "the trash".  their kids could do nothing wrong, and I could do nothing right.  I grew up thinking I was different than everyone else, and not as good. There was something wrong with me.   I was slapped, called names, kicked, banished, made to wait on their children, and my a mother taught my sisters to hate me and pick on me.  My sister would break things, and call "mommy" and say "See what she did"  She would then stand to the side and watch while I got a beating for it.     Anything I ever had was taken away. I got to when I even heard the word family, my stomach would knot up, and I would be so full of hate.    My first suicide attempt was in 6th grade.  My story is told in more detail on facebook, under the discussion post at "You know you're an adoptee when"   I have two chapters of a book and two poems posted there by Throwaway Johnson

Sexual, physical and emotional

 I was physically and psychologically abused by my adopted mother, sexually and physically abused by my adoptive brother, physically abused and neglected by my adoptive father.

from sep 17 2002 to I am not sure when I was subjected to oral sex. Where he would touch me and i had to do the same

One of the first memories I have is of my afather holding my older brother up against a wall by his neck --he was about four at the time --and me standing there sceaming because I was frightened he was hurting him .M af turned round and shouted at me that he would give me somethnig to cry about if I carried on screaming .He would go purple with rage and his eyes would bulge ,and then he would let loose on us. He continued to hit, spank, whip and throw us down stairs until we left home. He also would wash me in the bath, rubbing soap between my legs ,until I was about 12, and looking back I can see that he had an erection while doing this. My amother wanted a perfect little girl ,a doll to dress up, and I was a big disappointment to her. She liked my brother but not me. She always told me I was a nutter, a weirdo, and no one would like me when I grew up. She was critical of eveything I did, I couldnt do anything right. When I got older she would say I was dirty an smelly ,and not allow me to bring any freinds home -she was a snob and only allowed me to play with children of her friends who she approved of. In the summers , I was sent out with some crackers and cream cheese and told not to come home til late. In the winters, I just had to stay out of the way .She was scared of my afather, what he might do to us ,I think . When I was two I used to have nightmares --my aparents locked me in my bedroom so I couldn't get out of the dark room when I woke up--this wasn't intentional cruelty, as they were trying to stop me throwing myself down the stairs which I did regularly--but it's stuck with me and I'm still terrified of the dark. Memories keep surfacing now and I wonder what else  I have forgotten. I can half remember afather sexually abusing me at a very young age, but I'm not sure if this is a real memory or not. When I was 12, a boy who lived next door sexually abused me --I didn't remember this until  recently-and I'm 100% sure this happened. When I was a teenager I started to drink to blot things out --came home very drunk most nights and got beaten up by afather. Ran away three times and got picked up by the police and brought back. Began to look for approval in other men, had first sex at 13 with a much older man. Got thrown out when I was 16 by afather. I had a lot of bad relatonships in adulthood, attahcment problems, self esteem issues --my ex husband is a sex addict and abusive . I have disowned my aparents now and don't have any contact with them. Working through things now,slowly,and see a life someday free of pain and guilt.

i dont know when the sexual abuse started but i have memories of it happenning when i was in a crib with bars as of my 2nd birthday i no longer slept in a crib.my adopted dad was my sexual abuser .it continued till he raped me at age 4 [the day the astronauts walked on the moon,] it was on tv as he raped me.before that it was molestation and he liked putting strange objects in my vagina like toothbrushes.the sexual abuse ended then till i was 8 and had weekend visitations without supervision he never made me bleed again,now it was my turn toplease him his favorite way was to make me give him a blow job.once i went to boarding school at age 10 i stopped seeing him in places wed be alone i only saw him in public places yet that didnt stop him from trying to touch me.

the emotional abuse and control trips that my adopted mother put me through started very early she admits to only feeding me when i was a baby if the alarm clock went off it didnt matter if i wasnt hungry shed force me and if i was hungry other times i wasnt allowed to eat shes rather proud of this.she had many food control trips as i grew up...putting me on diets at age 5 even though i was normal weight. having no food in the house was normal. my nanny[housekeeper]used to sneak me food.i was so hungry id find a head of lettuce and eat the whole head hiding under my bed boy was i beaten and raged at for that . the verbal abuse was constant too i was never good enough i was always fat i was told all my problems were because of my jewish blood in me[funny thing is not one iota of me is jewish except my first born and the adopted mom will not acknowledge her because shes jewish] another weird thing was the people i wanted to make friends with i was told were not good enough for me and the people she wanted me to make friends with[usually her friends kids]didnt want to be my friends ,,so i had no friends..and the control trips  continued.. when i was very very young i was not allowed to laugh or to cry or to run around and when i did.... ahh now for the physical abuse... shed hit my head with a wooden spoon shed carry it with her all the time to this day i dont have wooden spoons in my house shed also do what i call the windmill hitting shed be raging at me and her hands would be hitting me slapping me one after the other nonstop...one time she was so bad hitting me i locked myself in the bathroom  and she called the firemen to get me out..noone asked me why i locked myself in the bathroom and why my nose was bleeding and i had a black eye!! another time my arm was dislocated she blamed it on my dad but i remember who really yanked me that day..she used to tell me shed like to return me that shed gotten the wrong kid and once i was 10 i no longer had a home/bedroom/even a bed or closet in her home by 16 after adopted dad died she told me i was no longer her responsibility  since there was no more child support coming from him and since then ive had very little contact with her..he took my innocence away she took my childhood away sad thing is i actually bonded with her and grieve the fact she doesnt want me and never will

I HAD TO LET HIM BE GOD, HE WAS THE WINNER & SO I HAD TO BE THE LOOSER,

IT MADE HIM FEEL BETTER ABOUT HIMSELF, WHILE MUMMY WATCHED, SHE LIKED HIM TAKING CONTROL OF ME,

SHE LIKED HIM TO SHOW AUTHORITY AND BECAUSE TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD HE WAS A RETARDED PRICK -THAT SCHOOL-BOYS LOVED TO BULLY, HE HAD TO TAKE IT OUT ON ME

I COULD DO AND HAVE NOTHING UNLESS HE HAD IT 1ST.

 MY ADOPTRESS AND SON = BUNCH OF TWISTED ASSHOLES

For my entire childhood I edured Beatings, food withheld, sexual abuse and verbal abuse.

My adoptive father, Jim, psychologically and sexually abused my younger sister and myself.  My younger sister and myself were both adopted as infants in our adoptive parents home.  My adoptive father was a food chemist, was well liked by everyone; he had a good education and great job.  My adoptive mother was an RN and had adopted both of us from St. Micheal's Hospital.  My adoptive mother, Vicky,  did her best to raise us in a good environment and I am sure tried to limit or mitigate the damage our adoptive father was causing to us.  My sister and I are not sure exactly when the sexual abuse started but I am sure he started to groom us for the abuse from the time we were small girls.  But he was such a well liked and well regarded man; he would be the last anyone would suspect of performing such horrific acts. The worst thing was as we were growing up and into our adulthoods he was always tried to put us down and always tried to discredit us, especially when he remarried another woman who had children, I suppose, fearing that some day, my sister and I would come back to accuse him.  My sister and I have not had any contact with him for a number of years.

My adoptive father also, I suspect, was trying to involve, or did involve his younger brother in some aspect of the abuse.  When this certain uncle came over to our house, my sister and I (we were about 5 and 7 years old respectively) would pin washcloths over our chests and over our genitals as though they were loincloths and we would dance around the living room with our uncle watching.  At the time, we were little girls dancing around the living room to music on our record player, which we thought was fun, but now that I think about it, this was rather bizarre and twisted, two little girls who were barely dressed, dancing around the living room in front of two grown men.  During our childhood our father tried his best to keep my sister and myself from being close, keeping us divided and fighting between ourselves because it was in his best interest.  My sister and I both got involved in the drug culture during our teen years (this was in the 1970's) and we have both had many problems with being in abusive and bad relationships with men during our lives, until recently. I have suffered from depression for many years because of what happened.   Now my sister and I are both reasonably happy and in good relationships.  I was fortunate enough to receive some counselling about the abuse a few years ago, which helped me greatly and I am trying to encourage my sister to get some counselling as well.  Unfortunately, she lives on the other side of Canada and we rarely get to see one another, maybe once every 5 years or so.  

What my father did to us was horrific and cruel and I guess we really didn't think about it while we were growing up; we didn't realize (and remember what we'd blocked out) until we were adults.  I have thought about reporting this to the police but haven't as of yet as my adoptive father is now 81 years old and has had some health problems.  What makes this even more horrific is that the Children's Aid Society had interviewed and background-checked our prospective adoptive parents and I guess they looked good on paper, but if they'd only known about my adoptive father, I am sure they wouldn't have placed us into his care.  But that was in the 1950's and there were many babies to be placed!  Thanks for reading....

*adoptive mother (am) *adoptive father (af) *Adopted brother (ab) *Step-Father (sf) I was adopted when I was 17 days old. According to my *am, she and my *af had asked the agency for a boy. When they called her to tell her they had a girl available, they decided to adopt me with the understanding that they would also wait for their boy. My *am told me they only took me because a boy wasn’t available and they had waited 10 years to adopt a child. She made it very clear that I wasn’t really wanted. My *am was disappointed that I cried a lot, not understanding that a baby is grieving when it is taken from its mommy, and she was angry because I would not let her comfort me. My *af was the one that I bonded with and it was obvious that he adored me by looking at the photos of him and me. He always had a look of pride on his face and I looked so safe and content in his arms. 13 months after I was adopted they adopted my brother (not my birth brother). My mom finally had her boy and was thrilled with him joining our family! Sadly, when I was almost 5 and my brother was 3 ½, my adoptive father was killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. My mom went back to her teaching job right way and really didn’t know what to do without my dad. She made it clear that we were not to talk about our daddy anymore and decided to put all of his pictures in our home away. I was on my own at the age of 5 with the grief of losing both my birthmother and my adoptive father that I adored, all with no adult help. It was not until I was an adult that I began grieving my daddy’s death and looking at pictures of him and me when I was a baby. My mom withdrew emotionally and left my brother and me with sitters, and sometimes she did not come home at night. The real abuse started when my *am married my *sf when I was 7. We were not allowed to attend their wedding and I was told that my *sf did not want kids so we were to be “seen but not heard”. He was very violent when we got too noisy and whipped us with his belt if we were out of line. I was so afraid of my *sf that I began staying outside (I built a fort in some bushes in the backyard and even had a coffee can as a toilet so I did not need to go in the house at all). As I grew older my *sf began yelling terrible things at me and said it was because no one wanted me that I was adopted. He always blamed me for his abusive behavior and could never bring himself to admit his abuse. My mom never got in his way and would watch the abuse, sometimes afterwards she would even say that she was angry with him for what he did to me. My *am had a friend that she would visit that did not allow children (including her own) inside the house. I believe she had 3. They would lock the door and we were left to ourselves all day. I don’t remember when we ate, but I know I was frightened and felt very alone. Another painful experience with my *am was not being allowed to have a voice to say anything that would make her feel like she wasn’t “the perfect mother”. I desperately wanted to live in truth and talk about our problems. Instead of listening to me, my *am would start crying and saying that I was accusing her of not being a good mother. It would therefore be about her feelings and never about mine. If I talked about truthful things that were hurting me she would shut me out emotionally and not acknowledge me. If I asked her why she was angry she would tell me in her angry voice that she wasn’t angry and shut me out until I would give in by accepting responsibility for the problem and tell her how wonderful she was. I so longed for her love that I was willing to take the blame over and over throughout the years. She allowed my brother to beat me up and do whatever he wanted to me, and when I would tell her I was afraid she would say that we needed to “fight our own battles”. At the age of 11 I was molested by our neighbor.  My *am couldn’t bring herself to do anything about this, so I went to my to my neighbor’s wife to tell her about the abuse. 

There are pages and pages of pain and abuse to be written here. Someday I hope to write a book about my story as I have been encouraged to do so over and over from my therapists throughout the years. I thank God for the strength he has given me to find a path towards healing in spite of my abusers never being able to own up or acknowledge

Since I can remember, with my adoptive parents from the time of my adoption in March 1978, I was physically, verbally and emotionally abused. All I wanted was to love and be loved, but my adoptive parents were more concerned about their image and the embarrassment that I was bringing to them than my emotional well being. If I was myself, my adoptive dad would hit and threaten me to submission. He was a control maniac. Only he was allowed to express himself, be the smart, humorous and charming one. My adoptive mom adored her husband and saw me as a fake. They would act like victims and often tell me and my biological sister who was adopted with me that we were killing them. That terrified me and again he exerted his control over me. I am still terrified of my adoptive father now at the mature age of 36! That is why I live so far away from them as possible.

Physical until about age 12-13

Emotional from as far back as I can remember and still continues

Neglect

Time has made looking for closure and understanding very old... I am tired of reliving the life I have been subjected to... I would love to just move forward into a better future and leave the past in the past... This has become impossible due to the relentless obsession my adoptive father has with making my life a living hell. I feel that if I can locate my bio-family, I might finally be free of him and have some piece of mind... Until then, my life is spent doing the best I can to get by and waiting for the next surprise my adoptive father springs on me... I have taken comfort in writing poetry about my life with them.

My adoptive father sexually abused me from the age of 4 until 14 years old.  He continued to emotionally abuse me until shortly before his death in 1993. My adoptive mother not only failed to protect me after I told her about the abuse, but she also harshly criticized me as well.  Her inactions and neglect negatively affected me as much as her actions.  I was 26 when she took responsibility for her actions, but I still dont feel that she has fully recognized her role as the abuser or accomplice.

I was sexually abused by my first adoptive father from the ages 6-13. I was also verbally and physically abused by my first adoptive mother from ages 8-13.   Then I was removed from that home and was placed in a family that had a son 2 years younger than me that I never saw as a threat until he sexually abused me just a couple months ago. Age 21. My second adoptive parents were both physcially and emotionally adusive to me as well.

phyisical and emotional 

phyisical and emotionally,and verbally abused