Adopted - Abused

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

Having spent the first seven months of my life in the Infant Home, I would need to be placed with a family where the adults had the ability to patiently nurture me in order to bond.  You could not have picked a person more the opposite than my amother.  She could be that person in doses, but usually saved those doses for her bio kids.  For me she saved her hate and venom, telling me repeatedly from the time I was 4 or 5 that I was stupid, retarded, that I had my brains in my ass, and that she knew I didn't love her.  (She repeated the last one following my wedding.)  She hated that I was a tomboy and told me to grow up and act like a girl should. 

She wouldn't wait until I actually did something wrong to beat on me.  If she had a bad day, she would seek me out.  Punching, kicking, grabbing me by the neck, ripping out my hair, etc.  I didn't even have to say anything to get my face slapped out of the blue.  She would just say that I should wipe the look off my face.  There were times when my afather would stop speaking to me and looking at me for weeks and then explode and beat me in a fit of rage.  It seemed to happen periodically, at least once a year.  The last time was when I was 16. He tearfully apologized the next morning, and never beat me again.  I am still not sure what those incidents were about.

My amother was convinced I was going to become pregnant before graduating high school like my bmom.  She never said this outright, but controlled my every move (I had a 9 pm curfew until I was a senior in high school.  Then it was 10 pm.), who my friends could be, and my "sex" talk at 16 was if I got pregnant, I was not allowed to have an abortion, they would not raise the baby and that I would not be allowed to raise it in their house.  All the isolation, control, verbal and physical crap drove me to enlist in the Navy when I was 17 just to get away from her.  I knew if I stayed I would commit suicide just to escape her insults, her rages, and her control.  I had already tried several times by then.

I was adopted at age 8, together with my brother, age 11, and my sister, age 12. My biological mother died when I was 7 years old. My father was an alcoholic. To take care of us, he stopped working, but began to drink more and more. One day, our neighbours reported him to the police, and because he was drunk at the time, he signed papers abandoning us. I did not understand with my child's eyes why his sister, who had 2 sons and who had a better life in Seoul, did not help us. Perhaps could she not? We stayed 8 months in the Inchon orphanage of Holt.We were destined for the United States, but a 40 year old French couple adopted us. We arrived in France on August 24, 1983.

Unfortunately, I was placed into a dysfunctional family!

I suffered domestic violence. My father beat my mother. I was a victim of incest from 11 to 14 years old by my grandfather on my mother’s side. The worst part of all this was that when I revealed my abuse, nobody believed me, while my mother was herself a victim of her husband! They left me alone in this nightmare that destroyed my adolescence! They did not even send me to a therapist! My mother often humiliated me, sometimes even in public. She did everything she could to divide us. We were getting along so well until she told us three weeks after our arrival in France "stop, you are in France, it is finished with Korea, you must speak French." She set us against each other, so now I have no contact with my brother. Her law was "divide and conquer".

It is true that I was a child traumatized by my past and that we all had our problems. I admit it. At home, I stood up to my mother while in public I was introverted and shy (I blushed at the slightest remark!). And my mother was authoritarian and blamed my behaviour. But many children are like that, right? My father was a coward and was only good for a salary! I found out later it was my mother who had completed all the procedures for adoption and that my father only signed the papers! I’m still convinced that my mother thought she could save their relationship by adopting us, and that my father would learn to control his temper, but unfortunately he failed! As the saying goes "driving his natural running back.” It was my father who could not have children! My brother and sister defended my mother and received the punches of course. My mother was taking anti-depressants and we had to comfort her! You know how men who beat their wives have two faces and are socially integrated and diplomats! The whole family made us feel that we should “owe” them forever for being adopted: they took us out of misery and saved my sister and me from a life of prostitution.

People often say to me "but your parents must be great people, they did not separate you" (unbearable sentence for me).

So I would like to reply: "Oh if you only knew what hell I experienced!" Sometimes I think what my life could have been if I had stayed in Korea and my aunt had helped us, or if we had been adopted by an American couple. Sometimes there remains in me the little girl who is constantly crying for her mother, and who has still not stopped her grieving.

We were not very accepted into my father’s family. His father was racist and he called us "yellow". His mother preferred her little blonde French daughter, of course, and she did not want my parents to adopt black children!

Yet, I can assure you that we were reasonable children who were not delinquent. How many times we had wanted to call the police! My mother did not recognize herself as a victim; never wanted to divorce or complain... I lived in fear and terror! I thought about running away, but was afraid of being sent back again to an orphanage!

Because of a constantly violent family environment, my sister tried committing suicide at 18. And again, my parents did nothing to help her or to consult a psychologist. Indeed, they considered psychiatrists sick people.

The verbal abuse between my mother and my brother began reaching its peak and my mother no longer wanted to support him. My parents decided to kick my brother out at the age of 20 years. My sister and I did not even have the right to call him or my mother would have a hysterical fit! I left the house at 20 because I could no longer tolerate the climate of abuse and violenceWe were sacrificed children in the name of the father and grandfather. Love is unknown in this family ! I just realized recently that it is a family of manipulators and makers of stories!

All that to say that I fell ill and my adoption is what might be called a failed adoption. I voluntarily cut all ties with my family 8 years ago and consider myself a double orphan! My only family is my sister. Myself, I have a past that will haunt me forever.

I thank my parents for having followed me to school, for having fed me, for housing me and doing laundry, but I do not thank them for adopting me. I sometimes would have preferred to stay in my misery, as they say! I did not choose them: they selected me!

If I want to testify today, it’s because I want to break this wall of silence that hurt me too much! I have spoken of my sufferings for only two years ... and have remained silent for 17 years! You cannot imagine how liberating it is to finally have a voice!

I wish to express my willingness to move forward despite all the traumas I have suffered.I think some egocentric parents should not adopt children! Maybe the regulations were not as severe in my time.

I realize older sibling group is atypical !

I feel that failed adoptions are a taboo subject that few adopted children dare speak of! I'm sorry if my words may offend some adoptive parents and if they perceive that I am advocating my misfortunes. But it is the story of my life!

I read books by Barbara Monestier, Christian Demortier, and Johnny Subrock and I thank them for writing their history. Their experience also convinced me to testify, although each story is unique. Mine resembles that of Christian or even more than Johnny Subrock.  

Thank you in advance for reading my story. I hope you will understand the meaning of my testimony.

From as early as I remember (before my adoption) I was subjected to emotional, psychological, verbal and physical abuse by my foster mom who later became my adopted mom.  Both parents drank alcohol daily and believed in corporal punishment. My father hit me also. But not nearly as bad as she did. And she constantly put me down, let me know I wasn't good enough.

My worst beating occured during the summer I was 13. My mother beat me with a board so badly that my backside was black & blue from top to bottom and side to side. I had difficulty sitting down for several days.  One friend saw the bruises, but I swore her to secrecy.  All she could say was, "Oh my God, Robin!" 

Police officers came to my junior high. They asked me if my parents hit me; did I had any bruises & could I show them.  Fortunately, I didn't have any bruises. "Fortunately".  Of course I denied that my parents hit me. I was scared to death that when my parents found out I'd 'really get it!'    

I got pregnant at 16 by the only boy I'd ever dated. My adopted mom told me I was a "tramp & a whore, just like your mother!"

Two days after my dad died, my mom disowned me by leaving a message on my voice mail.

I was told every day that I was a mental deficient just like my real mother.  That I was nothing and would never be anything.  I was told that I was the most ugly child they had ever seen.  I was beaten, strangled, whipped, publicly and privately humiliated.  I was locked in a room and not allowed to socialize.  I ran away at 16 and went to court to declare myself an emancipated youth.

What kinds of Abuse was I subjected to? Better question would be is there any you were not subjected to!

I was Sexually Molested by my Adopted Father from the age of 3 until 6 years old!

I was Sexually Molested by an Older Foster Brother,

I was Sexually molested by my Amoms Natural Son for many years after that....All in All, That is from the age of 3 until around 13 years old!

Mentally and physically Abused by AStepfather from 13 until about 17, He would always tell me what

"A piece of shit I was, That I was no Good, That he would kill me, that he hated me, Anything to belittle me!"

Where was my Amom during this wickedness? Either she would be working or somewhere Else...Though I did tell her of the physiacl abuse, She lived in Denial as she was Abused herself by the man she adopted me with!

But the worst were those weekly physical beatings! Every Single weekend that He could get drunkl enough at....Punches in the face, Bloody Lips, Wind knocked out of me, Bloody noses, Knocked down to the ground and dragged about the house....Once He could knock me down to the Ground, He than took great Effort to kick me anywhere he could...Slammed my head down on the Bathroom Sink---Blood everywhere! Luckily that was witnessed by someone and stopped!

He was a Very Violent weekend Alcoholic!

His name is Jack F, My Afamily is Gone now but this Scumbag still lives...How can that be?!

Slapping, Punching, Violent Shaking, Hair-pulling, Ear-pulling, Kicking, Throwing, Hitting with various objects (stick, belt, wooden spoon, hot curling iron, fly-swatter) from age 3 to age 19

Threatened with knife, threaten to be beaten until "the blood comes out," among other verbal threats from age 3 to age 17

Humiliation, degradation, physical and verbal abuse in public; referred to as having "emotional problems," told that I was just like my birth mother while speaking ill of her.  age 3 to age 34

Sexual abuse by older foster child #1, attempted rape by older foster child #2 (when I was around age 10).  Blamed for it when I talked about it at 19.

Controlled social interactions, friends had to be kids from our church or a similar church, not allowed to join activities such as Girls Scounts.  Forced to play piano in church; not allowed to play classical music, only religious music.  Television was strictly censored to programs adopters liked, as was music.

Sexual, Knife in me, Guns shot at me, Mental, Etc. 16 years of it.