deprived

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

*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

Physical until about age 12-13

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

Neglect

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 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.

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.

From April 1978 until October 1984 I was sexually and physcially abused by my adopted parents. They both had been found mentally unfit to adopt me but through private adoption were able to get me. I was kept in an attic with no light which was freezing cold in the winter and stiffling hot in the summer. I was starved alot of times as well. I was not allowed in the living room or kitchen except to clean. My life was such a nightmare that sleep became my only friend.

Constant verbal abuse by both aparents. Physical abuse by afather until 14. Afather would put us in dangerous situations (example: line us up and shoot at us with live ammo, told to hold still). Afather set my play house on fire (with me in it) when I was five (he needed the insurance money). A passerby saw the fire and got me out. Afather was not happy. I cut all ties with aparents when I was 19.