When I was in grade school we lived in a close knit neighborhood and there was a boy named Monty who was beat to living shit by his father on a fairly regular basis. This guy would go after his wife too in front of everyone. Everyone in the neighborhood knew what was going on but no one did anything. Granted this was back in the days before CPS departments were rampant everywhere and every family had their dirty little secrets but I still feel awful that no one did anything. My mother has told me in hindsight that someone should have called police but back then they didn't have any training in domestic abuse cases. I often wonder about little Monty.
Disturbing memories of childhood that still plague you
|by Anonymous||reply 243||03/07/2013|
Google him. It might make you feel better to know one way or another.
|by Anonymous||reply 1||09/01/2010|
Can hypnosis help remove/hide a bad memory? I can't get rid of one particular event and it haunts me 40 years later.
|by Anonymous||reply 2||09/01/2010|
The neighborhood adults should have stepped in to help the kid avoid being beaten up. It is their responsibility to do so when something like this happens.
|by Anonymous||reply 3||09/01/2010|
When I was eight years old, I lived in a smallish country town and attended the local school. There was a double murder - a teenage girl and her teenage boyfriend - that made national headlines and took sixteen years to solve. The culprit turned out to be a notorious rapist and serial killer. But the main suspect (until it was finally solved) was another teenage boy who, at one stage, had fought with the dead boyfriend over the girl.
The sister of the dead girl shared a school desk with me. The brother of the main suspect sat in the desk in front of us. We were all eight years old in a small town that was torn apart for years by gossip and speculation, and families pitted against families. Parents talked, kids overheard and repeated everything at school.
Back then, there was no such thing as PTSD or counselling; people wouldn't simply pack up and move away just to escape gossip. One just got on with life, including the kids. So it was like an entire classroom of kids grew up traumatised by spectre of this double murder and the ill-feeling that surrounded it. There was no escaping any of it. It poisoned the entire town but especially the kids in that classroom. My deskmates - they were both like little ghosts. I've never been able to shake off the heavy, dark awfulness of that classroom and it's been forty years now.
|by Anonymous||reply 4||09/01/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 5||09/04/2010|
OP,don't know what year or where this happened, but my family had similar issues. Cops were called many times but NOTHING was ever done. This was the 70s by the way in NY.
|by Anonymous||reply 6||09/04/2010|
When I was in seventh grade, I was bullied by this kid from the first day of school. By mid-October, I had enough of it but was too afraid to approach him. I talked to one of the school counselors about him at lunch and the counselor agreed he'd have a talk with this kid.%0D %0D The next day I was too scared to go to school because I was afraid the bullying would get worse after I snitched on this kid. I played hooky from school and was in the kitchen with my mother watching her prepare supper and listen to the radio.%0D %0D To my shock, when the local news came on, it reported that this kid had been killed the night before after struggling to get out of a car some older kids were driving. I cried with relief and guilt for three days but never told my mother why.%0D %0D OP, I also remember a story of an abusive father in the neighborhood. My dad and another neighborhood dad went over and talked to him one night after a particularly loud episode of screaming and things crashing around a house. After that we didn't hear the mom and the two kids screaming and crying every night. They moved a few months later. I wonder what became of them.
|by Anonymous||reply 7||09/04/2010|
I mixed pills in my uncle's drinks for a month%0D %0D I was only 6 yrs old and had no idea why did that. :/
|by Anonymous||reply 8||09/04/2010|
I was at a playground with friends, when we left to go home. I went one way and my friend Richard went the other way. I heard a scream and turned around. A truck hit him and ran over him. The woman who screamed ran into her house to call the police.
I didn't see it happen; I just saw the aftermath.
What disturbed me even more was that the nuns at our school treated me like it as my fault, and Richard's mother kept asking me what was the last thing he said, did. Was he happy?
It was 45 years ago, and I can still remember that day in NJ.
|by Anonymous||reply 9||09/04/2010|
A cracked mirror. A three legged dog. A doll without eyes.
|by Anonymous||reply 10||09/04/2010|
R9, so he died?
|by Anonymous||reply 11||09/04/2010|
Yes, R9. And everyone at our school went to the funeral mass. And when it poured rain afterwards, the nuns kept telling us the Angels were raining down tears over Richard.
|by Anonymous||reply 12||09/04/2010|
OK, this sounds trivial compared with what everyone else posted, but I was bullied relentlessly by a boy in high school. He called me ugly and a scum in front of everyone. It happened nonstop and I was too scared to fight back. No one helped me, not even the teachers. It has bothered me all these years and I've always wondered what happened to him. (I graduated in 1985). Last week I found out that he has stage 4 cancer. It's in his lungs and he had a tumor removed from his spine last week. I hate to say it, but part of me was glad. I was horrified at my response. I'm trying to suppress it, but I keep going to his caringbridge page to check his status. I think I'm waiting for him to die. I can't make myself feel sympathy.
|by Anonymous||reply 13||09/04/2010|
I wouldn't feel bad, R13. You feel what you feel. Feeling bad for him having cancer is like he is still controlling you.
|by Anonymous||reply 14||09/04/2010|
I knew a Monty in school and I don't know if he was beat but the child looked like he was starved to death. Don't name your kid Monty.
|by Anonymous||reply 15||09/04/2010|
I know so many stories, I can't repeat them. Too sad.
|by Anonymous||reply 16||09/04/2010|
I ran over my boyfriend. It was a horrible thing but I liked to read so that helped, and then I met my husband, who wasn't too bright but did very well for himself. Sometimes, a cloud really does have a silver lining. (Though I DO hate my mother-in-law!)
|by Anonymous||reply 17||09/04/2010|
r13, I think you will start to feel for him. You only found out last week. The anger will subside once you really think about what he is going through. He probably thinks about you too and is disgusted by what he did.
|by Anonymous||reply 18||09/04/2010|
No the bully probably does not think about R13 with remorse. He probably doesn't think of R13 at all. So feel what you want to feel R13, and don't feel bad.%0D %0D Speaking of abuse, when I was in elementary school there was a girl who was very timid and withdrawn. One day we had to read essays about our favorite thing. She stood up and read about how much she liked to sleep and how it was such a great escape. Looking back as an adult I now wonder if she was sexually or physically abused and sleeping was her only escape from it.
|by Anonymous||reply 19||09/04/2010|
I had an uncle that I always always gave me a strange feeling but I didn't know why. His daughter and I were both 16 and wanted to go crusing. She wanted me to ask for permission so I did. The look he gave her was so creepy that I felt my skin crawl but he said yes so we left. I was convinced he was sexually abusing her. I tried to talk to her but she told me I was crazy so I left it alone. %0D %0D 20 years later, during her parent's divorce, my cousin wrote the judge a letter in support of her mother and admitting that her father had sexually abused her. She asked me to proofread the letter and said she was didn't want anyone else to know and knew I already did.%0D %0D To this day, I watch the look fathers give their daughters.
|by Anonymous||reply 20||09/04/2010|
r19, I meant since the asshole could be facing death, he may be reviewing his life.. his mistakes.%0D %0D r13, I in no way meant to act as if you should feel bad, just maybe this guy may have remorse now faced with the possibility of death.%0D You have a right to feel what you do.
|by Anonymous||reply 21||09/04/2010|
My last Christmas was the worst memory of my childhood.
|by Anonymous||reply 22||09/04/2010|
I was a female Monty. I was beaten by a family member with coffee pot cords and broomsticks. People knew, said nothing.
At my holy communion a nun said I was the devil's spawn because my parents were divorced. In the vestibule of the church! My Mom just hung her head in shame.
In 7th grade, a nun pushed me down stairs.
I was bullied by a guy until 7th grade, when I attacked him in a line to leave for lunch. The nuns told me to stay at home until I could control myself. He later went to jail for murder.
I could go on but it makes me sad/angry. The past is very present for some.
|by Anonymous||reply 23||09/04/2010|
R13, I think you should call him, remind him of who you are and what he did to you, and suggest he reflect on that each day until he dies.
Why do we ALWAYS have to forgive assholes? People should be fucking punished for pulling that shit as children.
"He probably thinks about you too and is disgusted by what he did."
I doubt that, R18. Assholes like that never change. He probably gets a good chuckle thinking about bullying "that fag".
|by Anonymous||reply 24||09/04/2010|
"I know so many stories, I can't repeat them. Too sad."
This being DL, I expected more responses like this.
|by Anonymous||reply 25||09/04/2010|
A girl I went to school with lost her mother and little brother, when they tried to cross over from Poland. The Soviets shot them.
|by Anonymous||reply 26||09/04/2010|
I was babysitting and a man who had his own key came into the house. He looked like a fed...he wore a black suit, black over coat and black hat. He said nothing to me. He walked upstairs, unlocked a bedroom, was there for 5 minutes and then left. After he left, I broke into the room and there was only a file cabinet there and a phone. What was going on?
|by Anonymous||reply 27||09/04/2010|
damn, that is weird r27.%0D %0D Did you tell the parents?
|by Anonymous||reply 28||09/04/2010|
When I was in grade school, a gang of kids chased me home and knocked me down, I came home bleeding from scrapes and totally hysterical. My narcissistic mother reacted by screaming at me for being bad, because she'd found a couple of dirty dishes in my room and I was forbidden to eat in my room. %0D %0D When I was 11 or 12, I tried to tell her about the teenaged relative who was sexually abusing me, and she dismissed me with "Oh, you're always complaining".%0D %0D It wasn't the abuse that hurt the most, although it was bad enough, it was knowing that nobody cared enough about me to stop it. A lot of kids are afraid for help under those circumstances, but imagine working up the courage to ask and finding nobody will bother!
|by Anonymous||reply 29||09/04/2010|
R27 I'm holding my breath here! Did you tell anyone? Did you find out anything more?
|by Anonymous||reply 30||09/04/2010|
My 5 year old neighbor boy was raped repeatedly by his father and I heard it. %0D I told my father about it, but he told me it was none of our business. I was about 7 years old at the time. We moved soon after.%0D %0D The little boy's screams still haunt me.
|by Anonymous||reply 31||09/04/2010|
Damn, some seriously fucked up shit in here.
Here is my charming little memory from when I was a young teenager. My mother died very young and I recall my father didn't really attend the church much, nor did my mother. Well, I went occasionally and was in the Catholic school so I knew the priest.
He went by Father David and wore these coke bottle glasses. When he told my father that my mother couldn't have a rite of Christian burial I saw my father grab the priest by the neck and lift him off the ground.
The priests eyes were bugging out of his head. My mother was given the Christian rite.
There are loads of other memories in here but when your father is in the mob, it seems the stories just keep on going.
|by Anonymous||reply 32||09/04/2010|
Our family lived in Algeria. I had a nanny I loved. Went to the market with her. Piles of odorous fruit and meat covered with flies. Women bustling around in white veils, faces covered.
Got separated from Houria, was very worried and verging on crying. Spotted her in her long dress and covered face, ran to her and hugged her. Well, it was not Houria. I had grabbed by the bottom an elderly Algerian woman with a tattooed face. She slapped me.
I will always remember her expression. Puzzled, then enraged.
|by Anonymous||reply 33||09/04/2010|
The post at r23 is further proof that Sinead O'Connor was right.
|by Anonymous||reply 34||09/04/2010|
R29...we share some of the same story. I was terrorized on the way home ,by a gang of boys,and my mother blamed me.
No wonder I never told her my older brother was molesting me.
|by Anonymous||reply 35||09/04/2010|
[quote]There are loads of other memories in here but when your father is in the mob, it seems the stories just keep on going.
Keep them going then.
|by Anonymous||reply 36||09/04/2010|
R32, your dad is my hero!%0D %0D Why couldn't she? Because they weren't regular church goers?%0D %0D
|by Anonymous||reply 37||09/04/2010|
I grew up the daughter of a working class man whose job often had him the guest of upper class families. Sometimes he would have me tag along and because I was "cute", the upper class families usually obliged.
Most of the time the children of these families were terribly spoiled, which is understandable. But there was one little girl who wasn't.
I'll never forget her. She was about 9 years old. Her grandfather was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, and the clothes she was wearing were practically rags. She wanted to swim with me one day but her swimsuit had a hole in the crotch so she felt really self-conscious.
NONE of the adults intervened to help her. Her grandfather ignored her. So did her parents - and they were always dressed to the nines.
I just noticed the clothes. I wonder what other kind of weird abuse was happening to her. She was very shy, very withdrawn, and always seemed like she wanted to disappear.
|by Anonymous||reply 38||09/04/2010|
I grew up two doors down the street from a man who repeatedly molested boys in the neighborhood.
It started in the late 60s with him abusing his own son. His wife divorced him and moved herself and the son away, but told no one.
I was born in the early 70s, so I always knew him as the divorced guy down the street.
During the mid 70s, he repeatedly molested a set of three brothers who lived across the street from me. He would have them over for "camping" trips in his backyard in a pop-top camper. The parents found out and moved away, but told no one.
He used to invite my older brother over for breakfast. My mother made my brother promise never to go.
By the time I was 12, I was babysitting two little boys who lived next door in the house between us. (Their mother was a total flake and the parents were in the process of a divorce, so she would pay me to watch the boys while she went out to have time for herself even though I was just 12 and shouldn't have been watching anyone.) The boys would tell me that he used to invite them over and show them photos of naked adults and children having sex. I told them I would tell my parents if they wanted me to, they said no, so I just said they should feel free to get away from him if he ever made them uncomfortable.
A couple of years later, now the early 80s, a little boy who lived across the street from the molester started hanging out at the molester's house a lot. His parents had drug issues, and he must have been looking for a father figure. At night, we could see bright flashes of light coming from an upstairs bedroom window in the molester's house. A few months later, the police showed up and arrested the molester. The little kid's father had found out that the molester was taking kiddie porn photos of the boy, but had not told anyone, instead he had been taking hush money from the molester. Finally a day had come when the molester couldn't pay, so the boy's father called the police.
Adults in those times were just horror shows, absolute idiots, who didn't know what to do when this kind of thing was happening. If only an adult had done the right thing at any point in this story and reported it to the authorities, about 5 or 6 boys lives could have been so much better.
I was a girl, so he always kept away from me. But I was one of the people who knew what the boys were going through. I just didn't know what to do since all the adults around weren't doing a damn thing.
|by Anonymous||reply 39||09/04/2010|
r37, when my Catholic mother died and I asked my Catholic sibling to arrange a funeral in his Catholic church, he said the priest refused because my mother was unchurched. %0D %0D My mother stopped attending Mass years before, when she became too disgusted with the priests' pedophilia.
|by Anonymous||reply 40||09/04/2010|
r29, I am so sorry that happened. I have a narcissist mother too, but damn, not that bad. So so sorry.
|by Anonymous||reply 41||09/04/2010|
Is someone who writes for a television crime drama going to use these stories? I'll be pissed if I see this on telly later, gentlemen.
|by Anonymous||reply 42||09/04/2010|
There were damaged, PTSD afflicted kids in this certain family. Not my family. Really. Not.
The dad was an angry freak, with a streak of sadism. Really, I'm telling this second hand.
A professional man, the dad heard about a plane crash, and only wanting to help, loaded up the 7 year old for a fun trip to see the carnage, close up and personal!
Of course, there wasn't much the dad could do because everyone was DEAD, and in a visibly bad state!
But it was fun because the two enjoyed ice cream on the way home.
|by Anonymous||reply 43||09/04/2010|
When I was in high school as a 9th grader, there was a group of what looked like 11th and 12th graders who had formed a circle around this 1 girl and were really fucking with her, shoving her and yelling insults in her face and so on. Something about her seemed a little bit off because she was sort of smiling during some of it and she wasn't defending herself or running away. It was just something that got progressively uglier and people were standing on the outside of this circle looking on and laughing. There was a lot of people there because it was outside the cafateria during lunch.%0D %0D I wanted to help the girl, but I was a skinny 9th grader, petrified of the older kids and petrified of standing out like that. It's probably unfair to judge him based on this because I didn't know him at all, but there was a senior kid by the name of Andy Fickman who I went to high school with and who went on to become a Hollywood director. He was a really talented performer and was the leader of a sketch comedy troup that did a show once a year for the school. His talent was such that it was like seeing an adult comic perform along with kids. %0D %0D Anyway, he observes what's going on and I'm thinking, "There's a big man on campus who might break this up". So he walks into the middle of it all and makes some wisecrack and walks off. This group of kids then went back to picking on this girl for about another 5 minutes before they got bored and broke apart. %0D %0D I remember thinking what an ugly memory this would always be for that girl. What I didn't realize was how many assaults I would end up taking before I got out of high school. I wish I had ran away from school that day and never come back. It's weird because I didn't know any of the particulars, but it just stayed with me how no one gave a shit to help.
|by Anonymous||reply 44||09/04/2010|
R38, SPILL! What Fortune 500 company and when? Or just plain WHO?
|by Anonymous||reply 45||09/04/2010|
Yikes. This thread makes me want to believe in life after death so I could thank my parents for not being psychos.%0D %0D More catholic school fuckery. I went to Catholic elementary school in the era when nuns could still smack you with a metal ruler or lead a kid across the room by pulling him by the ear. We were all scared as hell of these women. I remember in first or second grade this little girl was so afraid to ask for permission to go to the bathroom that she peed her pants enough that it actually dripped to the floor. The nun started to yell at her and I still remember the look on the poor girl's face. It didn't make the situation better that she was one of few Chinese kids in a school full of Italian mooks.%0D %0D Speaking of horrifying sights, one of the nuns was about 400lbs. She had a genuine metabolism disorder, and ended up dying young. We were all marched down to the church attached to the school to sit in the pews while her open coffin sat in the middle aisle.
|by Anonymous||reply 46||09/04/2010|
R45, all I'll say is the CEO was an old Southern fat cat and big pals with Ross Perot.
|by Anonymous||reply 47||09/04/2010|
I really wish I hadn't read this thread. Why are there so many evil people in the world?
|by Anonymous||reply 48||09/04/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 49||09/04/2010|
Many of these childhood stories are wonderful bonding moments for DL readers and that should work out well for them.
|by Anonymous||reply 50||09/04/2010|
Oh, R38/R47. At least google the poor girl and find out what happened to her for me.
|by Anonymous||reply 51||09/04/2010|
I was never once molested by a priest at school and I was an altar boy for several years. For a young child with a fragile ego, it left me feeling very unattractive.
|by Anonymous||reply 52||09/04/2010|
R52, I was an altar boy too and NOTHING. Not one priest even looked my way. In fact, I was 16-years old the last time I served mass...and I was fairly attractive.
|by Anonymous||reply 53||09/04/2010|
I was in college and home on break. I was up very late reading a book at the kitchen table with a small lamp, and almost drifting off to sleep. My insomniac mother came downstairs to heat water for tea.
Appearing almost in a trance, she mumbled something unintelligible at me, and filled her favorite Frankoma teapot with water and put it in the microwave.
She then got upset and pulled it out and showed it to me. In the half darkness, it appeared to be dripping blood, and she was saying, "It's crazed. It's crazed!"
It was disturbing because I knew this was really happening, and yet it seemed too bizarre to be real.
It took several moments for me to put together that the glaze on the teapot had fine cracks in the glaze ("crazed") allowing water to seep from inside the pot to the deep red clay and out through cracks in the outer glaze, which made a red ooze drip down the sides.
So nothing terrible actually had happened, but it is a very creepy memory.
|by Anonymous||reply 54||09/04/2010|
At a family holiday, when I was five, my grandmother gathered all her grandchildren into the bathroom to see "Nonna's boo boo" which turned out to be her hemmorhoid surgery scars. She lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties and everything.
This happened when I was seven. My grandmother got so mad at me when my mother told her I had measles, and that's why I was home form school, that she picked up a heavy glass ash tray and banged it on the window , screaming, "Lazy bum! Go to school! Lazy bum!"
There's more buy why bother?
|by Anonymous||reply 55||09/04/2010|
When I was in high school, a friend came to school burning with fever, leaning from dizziness, and throwing up. I asked her why she wasn't home sick, and she said her parents didn't believe in staying home for "minor" illnesses. They told her that if she had the strength to get out of bed, she was strong enough to get to school so go, dammit!%0D %0D Her parents were both MDs, by the way. One was a pediatrician.
|by Anonymous||reply 56||09/04/2010|
SeanD wins.%0D %0D I hope therapy has helped you, buddy.
|by Anonymous||reply 57||09/04/2010|
Also want to add that neither me nor any of my siblings, friends, or cousins were molested or made uncomfortable by Catholic priests.%0D %0D The nuns, though. %0D %0D One of them slapped the boy next to me in the face. He was wearing braces and he bled a lot.
|by Anonymous||reply 58||09/04/2010|
Junior high school, '70s, midwest.
Kenny was like Kenny in South Park, except without the hooded jacket; dirt poor, always wearing dirty clothes, and all of a sudden, rumored to have crapped his pants and been sent home.
Because one period of study hall had alphabetical seating, I sat next to him for half a year. He didn't smell, he was kind of cute, just Pigpen-ish, since he lived on a farm.
I often talked to him and tried to help him with his homework. But he was a bit slow. Kids made fun of me for even talking to him.
A year later, he hanged himself in his father's barn.
|by Anonymous||reply 59||09/04/2010|
R54, it sounds like your mother was sleepwalking.
|by Anonymous||reply 60||09/05/2010|
"Is someone who writes for a television crime drama going to use these stories? I'll be pissed if I see this on telly later, gentlemen."
Coming in 2011: Josh Kilmer-Purcell's new faux-memoir, "Disturbing Memories of Childhood!"
|by Anonymous||reply 61||09/05/2010|
My heart goes out to you R55 and R29. It's unconscionable that a parent turns her back on her child at the time when that kid needs support the most.
I've posted before that my mom slapped me when I told her a cousin had molested me, as if it were my fault or something.
When I read of stories like R29's it mystifies me how a parent can react that way. I mean, who ARE we to are parents if they react like that?
|by Anonymous||reply 62||09/05/2010|
I went to school with a girl named Debbie. She had a very prominent overbite, was a little too thin, and wore dorky looking blue glasses. Really, she wasn't THAT bad, but those three things were enough to get her completely ostracized. She couldn't go three feet without getting called ugly. During our senior year, we had a "class prophecy" night, where the class president read something that the class officers wrote predicting where people would be in 10 years. Debbie's said something like, "We expect to see a limousine driving up to the door, and out will come Miss America, Debbie S." This was read in front of an entire school assembly, at which Debbie was present. It was low. Everyone went "ooooh" when it was read aloud, but no one objected and you could tell people were amused. No one was every disciplined for that or for teasing her.%0D %0D Debbie was smart and did well in college. She volunteered at a hospice. She hung herself when she was 27 and was buried on her 28th birthday. I don't think she could overcome all the hurt of her first 18 years. I don't think she ever found a place in the world.
|by Anonymous||reply 63||09/05/2010|
I went to school with MHB. Top that!
|by Anonymous||reply 64||09/05/2010|
"Speaking of horrifying sights, one of the nuns was about 400lbs. She had a genuine metabolism disorder"
SNORT. Of course she did...
|by Anonymous||reply 65||09/05/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 66||09/05/2010|
[quote]To this day, I watch the look fathers give their daughters.
What kind of look was it?
|by Anonymous||reply 67||09/05/2010|
My dad is certifiably insane. I've posted this here before in other threads along the same topic. He claims that when he was a child, he and his mother were abducted by aliens and that they planted a chip in his head.
He married my mom right out of high school, following her to California when her family moved. They were married 18 years and I remember lots of fights about sex in the middle of the night. One year, he lost his job and it was all downhill from there. He tried killing himself by locking himself in the garage with several lawn mowers running (he was a gardener). My sister found him and couldn't open the door. To this day, I still remember driving back from my brother's little league game and seeing my sister hauling ass on a bike, in tears and screaming that dad had locked himself in the garage. My mom sped home and unlocked the garage and kicked him out. He jumped in his van and the police found him later filling the van with pesticides while still inside.
The police let him go after a brief stint in the hospital. My mom wouldn't let him back in the house and started divorce proceedings. He would drive up to my brother's little league games and speed around the parking lot. The he would yell to my mom that he "had something for her" in the van. He did this at several games, always begging her to come to the van. She never did.
One day, she was on the phone with her lawyer and she heard someone trying to get in the front door. She put the phone down and there was my dad with a gun. She struggled with him over the gun and the lawyer heard it and called the police. Dad was taken away again but got out (this was the 1970's so apparently trying to kill your wife was no big deal). He then found my mom while she was shopping with the new guy she was seeing and he tried to run them over in the parking lot of Toy's R Us.
Dad never served time for any of this. Apparently my mom never wanted to press charges. She went on to marry an alcoholic who kicked all her kids out of the house one by one and who constantly berated her. My dad married a woman he met in the mental hospital. She's manic and has a couple of totally crazy kids.
I still can't believe I survived that time. And yes, I've been in therapy in the past to deal with it but I do still have PTSD. Every major holiday when the family is gathered I think that my dad is going to show up and blow us all away.
|by Anonymous||reply 68||09/05/2010|
Oh for Christ's sake. Do I have to write you [bold]another[/bold] book??
|by Anonymous||reply 69||09/05/2010|
These are horrible stories. I need to call my parents and thank them for being so loving and forgiving. Of course, at the time I thought they were horrible parents because they would make study and do chores, etc. But looking back, I wouldn't trade them for anything.
The one weird memory that stuck with me is the girl who sat next to me in 5th grade who burned her house down and killed a couple of family members.
|by Anonymous||reply 70||09/05/2010|
Damn, r68. Your mom is very lucky she survived.
Like a previous poster, I have too many childhood memories that are extremely disturbing but I seem to have come to terms with most of them. Or I just don't think about them and they don't piss me off. It does fire me up if someone asks me a question about my childhood and I relate a story to them. Just the other day, I was telling someone about how I lost 20 pounds one summer without dieting. Of course, I didn't need to lose any weight but I had no choice. My father and stepmother went to Hawaii for two weeks, leaving us with a gallon of spoiled milk and some canned beets and crackers. I was about 12, my brother 11 and we lived in a huge, expensive house way out in the boonies. My life is proof of that truism that things are not always as they seem. Or appearances can be deceiving. Pick your favorite saying.
My dad was rich.
Then there was that time I was kidnapped. But that's a story for another time.
|by Anonymous||reply 71||09/05/2010|
I had a I had a relatively nice childhood. Dad was a bit cold and somewhat jealous of the attention Mom gave me. Mom made me do chores and homework. Had a kid down the street who was a molester. He was about 14 or so and I was about 7 or so and tried to fuck me. Family was fucked up, daughters were sluts, Mom was a slut and he was a pervert. Got arrested at 17 for fucking a 7 year old and went into an institution. %0D %0D %0D That's the sum total of my bad experiences as a wee one. Summer was great, school was ok and I was generally out at high school (1970s) but because I was a black belt AND tight end of our HS football team, I was not fucked with. I actually have fond memories of my childhood. Wow, no wonder we're fucked up as a nation.
|by Anonymous||reply 72||09/05/2010|
One small thing I'll never forget:
Leaving elementary school one day with my friend Sandra. Both of us were in 6th grade. We crossed the street in front of the school and walked past a car. I remember looking in and seeing the man inside, it was a smaller, low to the ground car. After we passed, my friend turned to me and said, "Oh my god, did you see that!" I said, "What?" She said, "He had his penis out and was playing with it!"
I did not remember seeing that part. We were both laughing about it, in a "eeew, that's gross" kind of way, but looking back, that was extremely fucked up.
|by Anonymous||reply 73||09/05/2010|
This seems funny now, but at the time it was horrifying. At my Catholic girls' school an ancient, very large and scary nun finally died and we all had to file past her body in the chapel.%0D %0D The only light in the chapel came from flickering candles and of course that plays tricks on your eyes. %0D %0D I never made it to the coffin because some girl up there screamed, "She moved!" and then everybody else started screaming and stampeded for the door. Well, we were just little kids. %0D %0D To this day I can't stand zombie movies.
|by Anonymous||reply 74||09/05/2010|
But Sister Romero... I DID move!
|by Anonymous||reply 75||09/06/2010|
My father died when I was a toddler and I lived alone with my mother who was pretty fucked up. When I was about 10 we lived in a dumpy little apartment. The father of the family who lived in the unit in front of us was incredibly creepy. I used to catch him peeking through the curtains to watch us kids out playing. (I am female btw) One time my mother needed her stove repaired and asked the creepy guy to come and fix it. She was afraid of him and so left the apartment and left me there with him...I guess to make sure he didn't steal anything or something. Anyway, while I was alone with him he began fondling me. After he left I started to cry and his daughter went and got her mother (no idea where my mother still was) who convinced me not to tell anyone because "it would upset my mother." I kept it a secret for months until he pulled the same thing on another little girl in the neighborhood who told. Then I told too and everyone was shocked that I had kept the secret. As a level headed functioning adult the part of this that is disturbing is not the molestation but all of the fucked up adults around me. What kind of mother leaves her 10 year old alone with a creepy guy? Why was the neighbor more concerned with protecting her own reputation than helping a scared little kid? Unfortunately my mother died when I was in my early 20s so I never really confronted her about this. Wish I had.
|by Anonymous||reply 76||09/06/2010|
R76, many people shouldn't be allowed to have children. I wish I could foresee a progressive society that vehemently refuses to let people have children of their own free will. People don't deserve to have that freedom and no child deserves to grow up with a fucked up parent.
|by Anonymous||reply 77||09/06/2010|
Something I will never forget happened in 2nd grade and caused nightmares for quite a long time. Our school often had all of the classes report to the gymnasium to watch movies - mostly science related. One day they showed a movie about two girls who were walking home from school together. A "bad stranger" pulled up near them and offered candy. One girl fled but the friend ignored her pleas and approached the car. The details are fuzzy but the movie ended with a search for the missing girl and then a shot of a pond with a floating tennis shoe with a stream of blood. When the credits rolled it was customary to clap so all of us confused kids did so. The principal screamed at us for clapping about such a horrible thing. We were confused and scared to death that we would be grabbed and meet a similar fate. True story. I am still scared of the dark at 51.
|by Anonymous||reply 78||09/06/2010|
LOL? I think? at r78.
|by Anonymous||reply 79||09/06/2010|
wasn't funny at the time :)
|by Anonymous||reply 80||09/06/2010|
I remember a strange man was in his car and yelled at me to come over by him. He acted as if he were an authority figure and expected me to come over...like a lamb to slaughter. I was too smart for that and ran home. He was probably just a flasher, wanting me to watch him jerk-off but what if he was a child rapist?
|by Anonymous||reply 81||09/06/2010|
I saw a teacher who was cruel to a retarded child who was in my class. Even at the age of 6, I knew not to be cruel to a retarded child...what was wrong with that teacher?
|by Anonymous||reply 82||09/06/2010|
When I was 15 years old, in 1984, I used to walk my dogs through the parking lot of a mall. There was a section of the mall that was pretty well abandoned - the store front used to be a Korvettes - so no one ever parked there for anything.
I remembered seeing a school bus parked there from time to time and it stood out because the driver had taped the bottom windows up with newspapers. I thought that was weird but never gave it a second thought. Turns out that driver was molesting very young grade school children while parked there. I can see that bus like it was yesterday and it makes me cringe every time I think about it.
|by Anonymous||reply 83||09/06/2010|
My mother used to beat me with a car aerial. And she and her two friends would chain me to my bed if I was bad. I hated her!
|by Anonymous||reply 84||09/06/2010|
When I was 14 I went to see the punk band Flipper with a friend. The drummer's girlfriend was there and she had her 4 month old baby with her in one of those baby carrier things-- where the baby is tucked into your front. The music was deafening ( and really bad.) At one point the girlfriend wanted to go into the mosh pit and slam WITH the baby, but the crowd was straight edge (this was in DC) and blocked her way. A girl offered to hold the baby so the gf could go off and get her violence on.
That girl said the baby was soaked to the bone in urine and didn't move or make a sound the whole time she held him. Someone else said the baby was deaf because she took him to all the shows and the music was so loud. Later when the girl went to give the baby back, the gf was annoyed and grabbed him really gruffly.
I've seen a lot of sick shit over the years, but for some reason that scene stayed with me and makes me incredibly sad whenever I think about it.
|by Anonymous||reply 85||09/06/2010|
Of course it was the drummer's girlfriend!
|by Anonymous||reply 86||09/06/2010|
When I was in Kindergarden (mid-60's), I went to a catholic grade school and my class was a large one. There were about 6-8 tables with about 6-7 students assigned to each of them. One of the teacher's aides use to bring her son to sit with or class. He looked about 15, but had the mental capacity of the 4 year old. Anyway, I remember that when he would do something bad (spill his milk at lunch was one time that I remember), his mother made him get on his hands and knees and crawl the entire length of the classroom as his punishment. He would cry and whimper, and a few of the children would laugh (most of us were stunned into silence. I know that I was), and his mother would just yell at him to "get back down on that floor!" I'm sure that there were nuns present, which is why many of us never said anything about what we saw, thinking that it must have been right. It was years later that I remembered that and told my parents. Amazing how you think of things you've seen at a very young age and years later think to yourself, "what the hell was that?"
|by Anonymous||reply 87||09/06/2010|
The worst memories of childhood I have are of the bullying at school. No wonder Debbie hung herself. I've thought of suicide many times over the years, and most of my shitty self-esteem comes from not being part of any crowd at school, not having any friends, and being picked on and bullied verbally, emotionally and physically. My mother was no help. She'd just say "They're jealous of you and you just have to rise above it." I hate her too. She finally caught a clue when I came home with my nose huge red and swollen from being pulled on by the bullyies, on the bus. She crawled all over the bus company the driver and the school, but by then it was all too late.
|by Anonymous||reply 88||09/06/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 89||09/06/2010|
Hugs r88 and I agree it's a daily struggle to get beyond bullying. I was also bullied and although things have changed and I have friends and a so in my life I still never see the positive things in myself that others seem to see. Maybe because of the age it occurs at it fucks with your head forever. I'll still be walking down a busy street and hear laughing and begin to assume it's about me, of course now I'm able to give myself a quick reality check and move on.
|by Anonymous||reply 90||09/06/2010|
It's sad what children are put through and especially by those who are supposed to be protecting them. It still goes on every day, we are more aware of it and it's not as accepted as it was but it still happens.
A lot of people just don't want to see it though and it makes me angry. I remember there was a young girl who I believe was being starved by her parents and I told this women at work and she just said that just because the girl was skinny didn't mean anything and I was over reacting. What I saw was two parents who were overweight and had a son that they couldn't stop talking about, had pictures of just him in his cube at the office and when the girl went to get some food at a party we had the mother knocked it out of her hand and smacked and said she wasn't to touch the food. The girl looked scared to death and hungry. The adults just ignored it. I knew something was wrong but no one wanted to see it. Unfortunately, this happens to often, people "see" but they don't want to "see" or get involved. Of course until the kid dies and then everyone wonders why someone didn't do anything.
I always knew some of the hatred towards women on this board had to do with what I suspected were abusive mothers or mothers that didn't protect their children from abusive fathers. That much anger had to come from childhood. I was abused and sexually abused but I went to therapy because I didn't want to be angry all the time.
I'm a Lesbian but I don't hate men even though I was abused by one because I realized as long as I held onto that anger, my brother still controlled me. I also had to let go of the anger towards my mother for her abuse because I couldn't be happy otherwise.
Don't let the people who abused you win! Let go of the anger and live a great life in spite of them and hopefully you've gotten away from them, they're poison.
|by Anonymous||reply 91||09/06/2010|
I found Polaroid instant pictures of my parents doing "it."%0D %0D I burned and buried the ashes, but the images are branded into my brain.
|by Anonymous||reply 92||09/06/2010|
A girl in my class in elementary school was teased and humiliated by a lot of the other kids all the time. She was a bit immature and had behavioral problems. I didn't bully her but I didn't defend her either. Those of us who didn't make fun of her were too timid & scared of the consequences to try to stop it from happening. I was bullied myself but not as bad as this girl (I was put in the "gifted" class, she was put in the "remedial" class). %0D %0D She was one of the kids who was put in the special class for "slow" kids so she had to attend regular class most of the time but also attend the "special" class some days. She'd be in and out of the regular classroom. This made her even more of a target.%0D %0D Apart from being one of the "special class" kids (i.e. "retards"), she had a glass eye because someone, i believe a sibling, had poked out her real eye with a clothes hangar and the eye couldnt be saved, it had to be replaced with a glass eye. The other kids laughed at her, teased her, and called her "the Cyclops." Her nickname was Cyclops. Her traumatic experience didn't gain her any sympathy, it was just one more reason to tease her. Even the teachers and administrators didn't seem to sympathize much.%0D %0D Last year, she died of cancer. I read her obit online. She was only 35. A few other kids I grew up with are dead, too, a couple suicides.%0D %0D Learning of this girl's (woman's) death from cancer upset me. She had an unhappy childhood and things didn't get better for her as an adult. I was surprised at how hard it hit me: I started crying. I thought about her every day for weeks afterward, and would feel my eyes spontaneously fill with tears. I hadn't seen her since graduation, but it hit me hard. I can't help feeling that getting sick and finally dying of cancer was just the after-effect of the murder of her soul as a child. She never really had a chance.
|by Anonymous||reply 93||09/06/2010|
Walking home from school in the 7th grade with two of my friends. We noticed a car slowly pulling up behind us. We started to walk faster and took a quick right into a neighborhood. We looked back and the car was still there. We took off in a full sprint jumped over a series of backyard walls (this was southern CA), and worked our way back to one of my friends houses. Her older brother walked the other two of us home. %0D %0D To me, kids today are so coddled they have no street smarts. After the whole Adam Walsh case in the 80's my mom put the fear of god in us, but she still let us play outside, roam around, etc. We just couldn't be out there alone. I hung out with about at least 5 or 6 kids at any given time. I still remember one day a car pulled up and asked for directions. I am sure the same scam would happen today except they would ask for help finding their puppy or whatever. Rather then approach the car we bombarded the car with rocks and then took off to one of our houses. We trusted no one. For all I know that guy was just asking for directions, but to this day I feel no remorse for the rock attack. WTF is an adult asking a bunch of kids for directions in the first place.
|by Anonymous||reply 94||09/06/2010|
One friend of my sister was raped repeatedly by her father, teh local cop, for years. He started at such a young age, when it came time for her to have her own kids, her cervix had to be stutched shut to keep the pregnancy she had that much internal damage.%0D I was in my early 20s- and the girl had long since been into foster care and found the most loving family who are true parents to her- that I found out she had gone through very early puberty and became pregnant to her dad at 9. She miscarried and her mother made her sit on her dad's lap and apologise for falling pregnant.%0D %0D I do remember her always asking various parents in the town if she could sleep over, and was often told, as we all were, "Not on a school night" and turned away. I realised much later why she would want to stay anywhere but home and what she was going home to each night.%0D %0D My big sister would never ever allow me to be in the alone in the same room as the dad. Thank you, sis.
|by Anonymous||reply 95||09/06/2010|
When I was in the 5th grade, I was friends with the girl across the street who was also in my class at school. Natalie had a brother who was a couple of years younger than her. They were latchkey kids like me for the most part, and they lived with their dad who was rarely home. When I would go over to play at their house, there were Playboys and Penthouses all over the place, but they acted like it was no big deal. The girl had Harold Robbins and Judith Krantz (remember "Scruples"?) novels in her bookcase. I thought it was weird but never said anything--Dad was an alcoholic and I was conditioned to keep secrets, you see.
My family moved a couple of years later but I still went to school with this girl. Suddenly, she disappeared in the 8th grade. I asked a classmate who was a mutual friend what had happened to Natalie. She looked at me oddly and said, "Didn't you hear? The cops took her and her brother away to go live with her mother because her father was having sex with her and her brother." I wonder now and then if she and her brother turned out okay; I also wonder how close I came to being molested, too.
|by Anonymous||reply 96||09/06/2010|
I was abused at home and at school. My mother as never satisfied with me. She called me ugly, clumsy, a "big gom" (I don't know what that is). I could never make her happy with what I did. I'd get As in school, but that wasn't good. I became an altar boy, that wasn't good. I'd get picked on by older kids at school, and my mother said it was my fault. My father was always at work or sleeping from doing two shifts.
The rest of the family (mother's side and father's side) treated me like I was a buffoon. In my second year of college, I didn't come home for the summer. I lived on campus and worked, and continued doing this until graduation.
Now I'm about the only one left. Both parents are deceased. My only sister died in 2005. I haven't been in touch with any cousins since my father died, and that was to answer their question with "He didn't leave me anything, and there is nothing left for you either."
So, pretty much my entire childhood was psychological and emotional abuse, and it is tough for me to trust anyone at work or in my personal life.
|by Anonymous||reply 97||09/06/2010|
When I was in college I ran into an old classmate from middle school. He informed me that a super popular, cheerleader, classmate committed suicide right after high school. She was found shot in her car with her high school yearbook. She was never mean per se and I had no ill will. I guess it just really shocked me because here is this person who had everything and yet they were unhappy. I just didn't understand. I guess maybe she felt nothing would be as great as her time in school. or maybe since she seemed to have everything, she never had to think about what she was going to do in the future. %0D %0D I just really got creeped out by the whole thing. I would have understood more if it was a person who had been bullied. I guess it just raised questions in my own mined about what we really need to be happy.
|by Anonymous||reply 98||09/06/2010|
Ok. This pales in comparison to the sexual abuse, but here goes...%0D %0D When I was in junior high in the 70s, we had a music requirement, so you had to take band or choir. I chose choir. This kid who stood in the row behind me used to punch me in the back and call me, "Fag."%0D %0D Of course, he was a fag too but figured he'd deflect attention from himself by picking on me.%0D %0D I was miserable. He came out after high school.
|by Anonymous||reply 99||09/06/2010|
Lots of things about my childhood were traumatic, funny thing is I didn't realize it because everyone around us was experiencing similar things and I just assumed that it was all part of growing up.
But when we moved out of that environment I started meeting people and realizing there was nothing normal about my childhood from start to finish. I'm just now starting to understand that I will most-likely never be over it all, but I'm trying to live well in spite of it.
For the sake of sharing I'll add one of my stories. When I was a baby my father tried to kill my mother while my sister and I slept in the bedroom. He then ran out of the apartment screaming he'd killed his wife. My mother survived thanks to some very helpful neighbors (they were incredibly religious and the reason I respect people of faith.) My mother was an immigrant and didn't have many places to turn so she sent my sister and I to live in Nigeria while she recovered from her injuries. She didn't want us to be scarred by what my father had done to her.
Things just went from bad to worse from there because the culture in Nigeria blames women for everything and they are not generally shy about telling children what they think. We would wake up to beatings and molestations almost daily by people who thought we were demon possessed and that my mother put a curse on my father. By the time I got back to America I was so traumatized that I rarely ever spoke except to my sister or my mother. My mother actually encouraged this since she didn't want anyone knowing what happened to her and she was still scared my father would find her and finish the job. She put the fear of god in us, and unfortunately she beat us a lot (it was socially acceptable in her culture and she hadn't fully assimilated yet).
Well America didn't make things any better I had trouble making friends and was teased and bullied every day. I wanted to fit in but never found any acceptance, and on the one occasion that I did make a real friend we ended up moving out of state shortly after. My mother was constantly moving in an effort to give us a better life, I think also to run away from her problems.
She eventually made a name for herself and is very well known in her line of work (not a celebrity, just a big name in her industry.) Any way before all that when we were poor she couldn't afford baby sitting and would either have to leave us with someone I suspect was a crack addict or take us with her. I dreaded the babysitter because she had three kids and they would chase me around push me to the ground and do bad things to me, if she took us to a party I'd spend the whole time clinging to her trying to avoid the "uncles" who were really just close family friends that also molested me. Some of her friends would just walk up and insult me without cause, like saying I was a burden to my mother or a demon, one even prayed out loud for me to be cast into the "fiery pits of hell".
There's more, but I've already shared more than I thought I would. Why I ever thought any of it was normal is beyond me, but that's life I guess.
|by Anonymous||reply 100||09/06/2010|
omg r100 I hope your life is better now that sounds awful and the fact that you have made it this far in life is a testament to your strength.I moved about 20 times, which was probably the most traumatic thing for me. I had a lot of small things that all built up. Mom's family hated us, and dad's family hated us. Dad was an alcoholic who ended up having a secret family for 12 years before a friend of his finally told my mom. No long term rape or physical abuse thank God. Reading lot's of these stories I actually feel pretty lucky.
|by Anonymous||reply 101||09/06/2010|
This is one is more lighthearted, but still makes me sad.
I lived on one of those streets where all the neighbor kids were friends. It was a great place to grow up. Their was a pecking order, naturally, and the leader was an older guy named James. We did what he said.
A new family (well, divorced mom and 11 year old daughter) moved in. James decided that the "new girl" wasn't to be trusted, but that we could use her for her jacuzzi (which makes me laugh!). So we did. She was a mess of a girl. He mom was ignored her, she didn't know her dad. It was so damn sad.
James decided to play a trick on her one day. He went over to her house to use her jacuzzi and looked at her phone to get her phone number. Later, he called her and pretended he was a local disc jockey from a radio station. He said that she had just won 1 million dollars in a drawing.
The girl came running out of her house, crying tears of joy. I remember the whole gang just kind of dropped our heads. She kept saying, "I can use this money to go and find my dad. He'll love me. He'll come back home," over and over. She was damn happy. She even offered to buy each of us gifts.
Even James felt like shit.
When we told her the truth, she stopped crying and went inside, white as a ghost. She never played with us again. And moved the following year.
|by Anonymous||reply 102||09/06/2010|
When I was 6, a woman who lived down the street took her kid who was 7 or 8 and drove him out to the country to "pick strawberries". In fact, she had a rifle in the car and intended to kill herself and her son. She killed herself, but only wounded him. He had to crawl a mile to the nearest house for help. Weirdly, kids BULLIED him about it for years after.
The impact on me? My parents liked to take us on Sunday drives (remember those?), and for a long time I was convinced they had a rifle under the front seat and intended to shoot us. I couldn't rest until I got down on the car floor to check.
|by Anonymous||reply 103||09/06/2010|
[quote]He had to crawl a mile to the nearest house for help. Weirdly, kids BULLIED him about it for years after.
That is so fucked up. Do you know what happened to him?
|by Anonymous||reply 104||09/06/2010|
More sadistic than funny R102.
|by Anonymous||reply 105||09/06/2010|
[quote]During our senior year, we had a "class prophecy" night, where the class president read something that the class officers wrote predicting where people would be in 10 years. Debbie's said something like, "We expect to see a limousine driving up to the door, and out will come Miss America, Debbie S." This was read in front of an entire school assembly, at which Debbie was present. It was low. Everyone went "ooooh"%0D %0D They did something similar to me at my junior high school graduation, made a nasty prediction about me and everybody said "ooh." The worst thing about it was that my mother was sitting next to me, and I was so humiliated that she had to hear that.
|by Anonymous||reply 106||09/06/2010|
"I would have understood more if it was a person who had been bullied. I guess it just raised questions in my own mined about what we really need to be happy."
Who knows what was going on in her house, though? Or just in her head. When you're suicidally depressed -- which some people can hide -- it doesn't matter how much you have going for you. Severe depression is an illness, like cancer.
|by Anonymous||reply 107||09/06/2010|
I was incessantly bullied in middle school. I had to change schools(the kids would still call my house to torment me), had no friends, and thought of suicide everyday at the old age of 14. I have a hard time making friends and can't trust anyone-even till this day.
|by Anonymous||reply 108||09/06/2010|
One of my aunts on the trashy side of the family had a daughter, Sharla -- she was my cousin, but she was at least 30 years older, so I thought of her as another aunt. The first time I heard the word "bar-fly," it was applied to Sharla... at the age of five or six, I thought it sounded glamorous.
Sharla was divorced from a doctor and had a nice house and, it seemed, plenty of money. (And a nice dusty-black flip a la Jackie Susann.) But Sharla didn't hang out in upscale bars, but the real flop joints in town, the kind that opened at 6 a.m. and only sold tap beer. From listening to adult conversations, I had the impression she wouldn't come home for days.
Unfortunately, Sharla also had 4 kids from 3 different men during the years. The oldest, Donna, was the daughter of the doctor (who had abandoned the family). Donna was about my age and by the time I was 8 or 9 I became aware she was doing everything in that house -- parenting the twin boys and the little girl, feeding them, getting them to school, basically mothering them.
I asked my mom why we didn't call the police. I don't remember what her answer was, but we didn't and the situation continued.
One night, late, we got a call from Donna. She was hysterical because the house had caught on fire. My parents put me in the car and we drove over. Donna had gotten all her siblings out unharmed and only part of the house had burned, but the children were all hysterical.
Apparently someone had made a call and a fellow bar-fly had driven Sharla home. An old car pulled up and Sharla jumped out, drunk and screaming, grabbing the kids and hugging them (which made them scream more). After a few seconds of this, she announced she "couldn't handle it" and was back in the car, headed back to the bar.
The four kids came and stayed with us for two weeks. Donna and the little girl were sweet and pathetically eager to help my mom around the house. The twins were terrors.
I didn't see Sharla's family much after they moved back, but when I was a teenager I ran into Donna somewhere and she said "That time we spent with your family was the best time in my life and I think about it all the time."
Looking back, I wish I had the sense to call the police to help Donna. But I was 8 or 9, and thought no one would believe a kid over an adult.
|by Anonymous||reply 109||09/06/2010|
r107 that's what I was going to say. Just because she wasn't bullied in school doesn't say what was happening at home or a boyfriend could have raped her, been abusing her, etc. People can hide a lot when they feel they have to.
|by Anonymous||reply 110||09/06/2010|
After reading all this, I'm not so sure humans are essentially good.
|by Anonymous||reply 111||09/06/2010|
[italic]After reading all this, I'm not so sure humans are essentially good.
Yeah, well, me either, bub. I was a chump when I wrote that.
|by Anonymous||reply 112||09/06/2010|
r109 did everything turn out okay for the kids?
|by Anonymous||reply 113||09/06/2010|
[/italic]I don't know what happened to them, r113. I just Googled the girls' names and couldn't find anything, and I can't remember the names of the two boys, who were thieves and general hellions at the ripe old age of kindergarten.
|by Anonymous||reply 114||09/06/2010|
I'm pretty sure most...at least half the humans in the world are fairly worthless and should never be allowed to have kids.
|by Anonymous||reply 115||09/07/2010|
Heredity isn't destiny, R115. We all probably have some less than stellar exemplars of humanity in our background. Every newborn baby is a fresh start into who knows what.
|by Anonymous||reply 116||09/07/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 117||09/07/2010|
R108, I know what you're dealing with. The exact same thing happened to me at about the same age. I even put off going to college because I was sure I wouldn't be able to escape the bullying there, either. I tried to drink it all away for the next 20 years--thank God I got some help. Stay strong and don't be afraid to ask for help.
|by Anonymous||reply 118||09/07/2010|
R 118, thanks for responding. It's been hard. I became very distrustful and depressed at a young age. I tried to kill myself when I was 13. My parents took me to see a therapist ONCE, and that was it. I still think about it all the time and it gives me nightmares. On the bright side, it forced me to grow up.
|by Anonymous||reply 119||09/07/2010|
this has been, and continues to be, a fascinating thread. it is a topic which touches us all.%0D %0D even if abuse or trauma has not been a part of a person's childhood, each of us has witnessed it knowingly or not.%0D %0D how we respond to these experiences, impacted or observed, is a measure of our humanity.%0D %0D and... importantly... it shows on can endure, if one learns from the experience of others.%0D %0D A fine conversation.
|by Anonymous||reply 120||09/07/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 121||09/07/2010|
We are in the process of rescuing a baby right now. Long story, parents are drug addicted and panhandling with the baby. She is 6 months, looks and weighs about 3-4 months, max. I don't think she is even turning over both ways yet, at least she hasn't turned over that I have seen. I have the feeling that she is getting second hand meth or crack smoke and I'm frightened that serious harm is going to come to her, possibly horrific. She is so sweet, acts like she is STARVING (I'm sure she has gone hungry), raw bottom, digestive issues - they spend all their money on drink and drugs and then go to churches to ask for diapers and formula and use her as a pawn to panhandle strangers. %0D %0D We have heard that the parents party all night and sleep all day and leave her screaming for hours at a time. It breaks my heart. When she is brought to me she clings to me and sucks her thumb and holds on tight, it took a bit of time to get her calm at first but now when she sees me she just smiles. We have to wash everything and bathe her when we get her because everything reeks so badly.%0D %0D it BREAKS MY HEART. I have convinced the external family to take her and get custody, make the "parents" go to court and get a hair test. I also said they should hair test the baby.%0D %0D Maybe, just maybe, this child can be saved. Please offer your prayers for her, if you are so inclined.%0D %0D p.s. my heart goes out to those who have posted and shared your trauma. may you all find peace.
|by Anonymous||reply 122||09/07/2010|
R122: Thank you for helping this baby!
|by Anonymous||reply 123||09/07/2010|
I work for CPS, my heart breaks all the time.
|by Anonymous||reply 124||09/07/2010|
I had a fairly miserable childhood but there were moments of happiness and I'm well aware that things could have been much, much worse. I know a numberof the kids in my neighbourhood were beaten. Sometimes it would happen in public. One neighbouring family had 3 daughters. Their father was a vile alcoholic who would leave porno mags lying around, who killed someone in a hit and run, then absconded, and who I%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%99m sure molested those girls. My own father was an abusive alcoholic. I used to be terrified of going home from school, knowing he would be stinking drunk and spoiling to belittle me, push me around and pick fights with me. I think he told himself he was toughening us up but what he was doing was just bullying small children. I still have very low self-esteem, as do my brother and sister. I was also picked on at school - I was small and skinny and had a girly walk, so I was the school %C3%A2%C2%80%C2%98fag%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%99 for much of high school. The memories that disturb me the most, however, are of the bullying I inflicted on others. I think now that I was just deflecting attention from myself but I was downright horrible to some of my schoolmates, one of whom had a mental impairment. I still cringe with shame when I think about some of the things I did to those kids. Childhood can be a very cruel time. I%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%99ve only recently become a father myself, and I cannot see any circumstances where I would put my kid down just to make myself feel better, the way my dad did with us. I%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%99ll never forgive him for what he did to us. Even today he%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%99s a dead weight, dragging my mother down and making her feel stupid, when she was the one who went out and worked and kept my family going. She was the saving grace of our childhood and I think what good qualities my siblings and I have are thanks to her unwavering love.
|by Anonymous||reply 125||09/07/2010|
"the bullying I inflicted on others. I think now that I was just deflecting attention from myself "
When a person feels powerless in one situation, they often seize power in another to make themselves feel better. It's why someone who is pushed around by their boss comes home and pushes around their spouse & kids. And why kids who are abused and controlled at home go to school and bully weaker kids. It's an awful cycle. I know it well, R125
|by Anonymous||reply 126||09/08/2010|
Question re: R22...%0D %0D Hair testing? Proves what? Thanks for the info.
|by Anonymous||reply 127||09/08/2010|
My parents were constantly fighting when I was a teenager. Very abusive with each other. My much younger sister was so frightened and upset by their outbursts.
Instead of helping her and dealing with my own fear and confusion, I sneered at her and belittled her tears.
Luckily she has forgiven me but I cringe still at the callous way I behaved My sister is a much better person than I am...
|by Anonymous||reply 128||09/08/2010|
R127 - a hair test can tell you how long a person has been on drugs and what kind of drugs they've taken.
|by Anonymous||reply 129||09/08/2010|
Hair follicle testing shows drug exposure prior to that picked up in a urine test.
|by Anonymous||reply 130||09/08/2010|
R55/Sean D, the tears are still rolling down my cheeks from laughing at you story!!
R74/ Sister Romero, that's priceless!
|by Anonymous||reply 131||09/08/2010|
When I was 12 I was invited to spend the afternoon at a classmate%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%99s house together with another girl from class to do some art project. The girl that invited me was a genuinely nice person, her friend was terrible. I was never invited anywhere or had any friends, so this was a big deal for me. We did some craft work and when it was time to go home, I got up and said goodbye to both of them. Out of nowhere, the other girl, before handing me my umbrella pointed it and shoved it in my crotch, laughing. I was shocked and the nice girl felt so bad over what had happened that she started to run around and find something to make me feel better, coming back with an orange for me to take home, while trying to tell me what a nice time we had and pleading to please take the orange.%0D %0D I went home feeling terrible and humiliated. By that year, I had been molested by our gym teacher for three years, so that small act of cruelty was devastating for me.%0D %0D Some of the stories in this thread made me think of that episode. I%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%99m not mad at them now, but my god, I wanted to die that day.
|by Anonymous||reply 132||09/08/2010|
Not wishing to undermine your pain, R132, but I wish my gym teacher had molested me.
|by Anonymous||reply 133||09/08/2010|
Note to self: stop getting drunk and posting on Datalounge, it will not end well
|by Anonymous||reply 134||09/08/2010|
When I was in 5th grade in 1977, a classmate came to school crying hysterically. She found out that morning her uncle shot and killed her aunt, 4 cousins and her grandfather during the night. %0D %0D Her parents had to deal with funeral arrangements, etc., and probably weren't thinking rationally when they put the girl on the bus to go to school. Her friends all took turns trying to comfort her but she was understandably in shock and inconsolable. %0D %0D After about an hour of this, my heartless teacher told her she needed to go to the principal's office and stop disrupting the class. She told her not to come back to the classroom until she could "collect herself". The principal sent the girl to the nurse, and periodically throughout the day, we'd hear heartbreaking cries coming down the hallway.%0D %0D My town used to have an evening paper, and that night's edition showed pictures of the crime scene, there were pictures of the little girls shot to death in their pink nightgowns. It was very disturbing.
|by Anonymous||reply 135||09/08/2010|
I want someone to write a TV show about Republican families during these so-called Golden American years, revealing just how fucked up those assholes were.
Nothing was better back then, especially if you were a kid, a woman, a non-white person or a homo.
|by Anonymous||reply 136||09/08/2010|
When I started the 7th grade, our gym class didn't have a locker room - just a free standing portable classroom that we all had to change in and leave our clothes in a pile during class and then change back into after.%0D %0D There was an 8th grader who was nerdy and very much an outcast and constantly picked on. We had to wait at the end of gym for the bell to ring before we could leave the smelly portable classroom we changed in and it would shake from everyone inside chanting this boy's name, calling him a fag in unison. He looked so terrified - it was like the shower scene from the movie CARRIE. I still can see the helpless look on his face.%0D %0D Being a little gay boy myself, I remember just trying to be as invisible as possible, terrified that one day it would be me that everyone would be tormenting.
|by Anonymous||reply 137||09/08/2010|
I went to school with some kids who died with their parents in a car accident. I couldn't wrap my head around it. It was just a tragedy...
|by Anonymous||reply 138||09/08/2010|
Even though I started to school in Chicago, 4 years after the Our Lady Of Angels' fire...it was still like a deep wound in the Chicago schools.
|by Anonymous||reply 139||09/08/2010|
Two fags they walk into a barber shop.
The one fag says to the barber. %C3%A2%C2%80%C2%9CSir how can I make hair grow on my chest?%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%9D
The barber replies, %C3%A2%C2%80%C2%9CGo home and put Vaseline on your chest real thick%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%A6%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%9D
That night the young man does as the barber told him. His partner climbs into bed and reaches over to hold him and feels the slime on his chest..he says, %C3%A2%C2%80%C2%9CWhat the hell is this?%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%9D
The other man replies, %C3%A2%C2%80%C2%9CThe barber told me that if I put Vaseline on my chest hair would grow..%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%9D
The other fag replies, %C3%A2%C2%80%C2%9CYou stupid son of a bitch, if that were the case you would have a damn pony tail hanging out of your ass.%C3%A2%C2%80%C2%9D
|by Anonymous||reply 140||09/08/2010|
Tell us more about your gym teacher, r132.
|by Anonymous||reply 141||09/08/2010|
I was afraid of my cousins as a child. They were cute kids, but every time I would go to their house some violent incident would take place. Their mother was out all the time and they were raised by maids who spoke no English. They never ate a proper lunch or dinner, just grabbed things from the fridge. I felt my family was too strict, but the anarchy in their household made me uneasy and I resisted going to their home.
Things did not turn out well. The oldest cousin turned from a brilliant, beautiful boy to a paranoid recluse resembling Otto von Bismarck. He died in 2007, possibly by his own hand. The second one is mad -- both mentally ill and stupidly aggressive -- and living off my now very elderly aunt, whose financial intercessions just barely protect him from homelessness. The last one is a sweet, decent woman, but weighs 400 pounds.
Very sad. Sometimes when you're a kid you just know.
|by Anonymous||reply 142||09/08/2010|
R141 - you're a sick fuck.
|by Anonymous||reply 143||09/08/2010|
Wow, this isn't light reading. A mother cat had kittens in our garage, behind a large chest of drawers. My siblings and I were ten and under. We were so excited to discover the sweet kittens and we played with them while the mother kitten was out. We did this for two days. When we returned from school on day three we discovered the kittens were in pieces. Their little bodies were torn up and we were torn up. I still want to cry as I write this and it is 37 yrs later. There were many theories about how this happened, but the one I try to stuff away involves the possibility one of my parents did it.
|by Anonymous||reply 144||09/08/2010|
I was 5 when the Manson murders happened. I overheard a detailed conversation between my parents and grandparents about the murders. I heard my mother say "and they cut Sharon Tate's baby out of her". I thought about this constantly for months. I obsessed and tried to see everything I could catch on tv about the Tate, Labianco murders. It was terrifying me, but I would not tell anyone. I couldn't sleep for probably a year.
|by Anonymous||reply 145||09/08/2010|
Yeesh. I so got off easy compared to some of you. And I'm sure a lot of you will find what I'm about to relay "hot" - but I think it's totally disturbing.
I was a pretty boy as a kid. Really pretty. I don't say this to brag (remember, pretty doesnt age well and I'm living proof of that as an adult) but just to provide context. Anyway. From the ages of 11 to 14, I got hit on by quite a few "straight" adult men. Most were my teachers. One or two were physically aggressive.
There was my 7th grade Earth Science teacher, who would follow me into the bathroom and flash his junk at me. The security guard who always asked me with a lascivious smile to come ride in his van with him after school. The cop who groped me as he was frisking me after I got busted for throwing rocks at a train with my friends. He did this after twisting my arm behind my back and forcing me to the ground. These were all during junior high.
My freshman year of high school: not only a shop teacher but my gym teacher both "cruised" me at the urinals. The shop teacher had a raging hard on both times. This was of course back in the day when teachers and students used the same bathrooms. Something that doesn't occur anymore. Probably for the reasons outlined above.
Oh, and most of these men were married and had kids.
In retrospect I am shocked at the number of pervy dudes who worked in the school system where I was. I guess it stands to reason. If you're attracted to kids, you go where the kids are. But still. So creepy and unnerving.
|by Anonymous||reply 146||09/08/2010|
144, sometimes mother cats rip up their young if they have been tampered with. Please don't blame your parents!
|by Anonymous||reply 147||09/08/2010|
Does sound like it was r144's fault.
|by Anonymous||reply 148||09/08/2010|
I'll never forget when Dennis and I found the dismembered body of Rocky Olsen in the boat house.
|by Anonymous||reply 149||09/08/2010|
I relate to r146. Not quite as much but I was definitely a very pretty little twink. But I always felt it was a leering, mocking way and was surprised that the guys I thought were bullying me were actually sexually aroused by me.
|by Anonymous||reply 150||09/08/2010|
Being locked in a bedroom and having cunninglis performed on me for what felt like days. Meanwhile my friends were outside being kids and playing in the summer sun. %0D %0D To this day I can't enjoy oral sex ever or sex in general if it's a beautiful, sunny day out.%0D %0D Thank god I live in Seattle.
|by Anonymous||reply 151||09/08/2010|
Who did that to you, r151?
|by Anonymous||reply 152||09/08/2010|
Actually it was probably a male cat that killed the kittens. They want the mother to go into heat again, so she will have their kittens. It's what cats do. Love cats but they ain't perfect.
|by Anonymous||reply 153||09/08/2010|
I had a friend in high school who's adoptive father started a sexual relationship with her when she was 12. Her adoptive parents divorced when she was 14 and she lived with -- and continued a sexual relationship with -- her father through high school.
He gave her a ring that was inscribed: "To my only wife."
When she went away to college and came out as a lesbian, her father committed suicide.
That was 40 years ago and my friend is now a reclusive alcoholic.
|by Anonymous||reply 154||09/08/2010|
When I was around 4 or 5 my mother took me to a wake of a co worker of hers. She never explained death to me before. I just remember walking up to this white column building. We went into the wrong room at first. %0D %0D Inside that room was a mother and a baby that died in a fire. I remember being stricken looking at them. Especially the baby who looked like she was just sleeping with a stuffed bear beside her.%0D %0D I was traumatized afterwards and had nightmares about that baby. I'm a full grown adult and even now I get the shakes if I pass a white column funeral home. Also now I have great difficulty viewing an open casket and won't go to wakes.
|by Anonymous||reply 155||09/08/2010|
My heart goes out to all of my fellow bullying survivors. Being bullied on a daily, yearly, basis fucks you up good and proper. %0D I was "faggot" at school from probably 7th through 12th grade. Not just called that by other boys, but by teachers. Teachers who would call me "girl" and told me that I would never amount to anything (which on a professional level I haven't although I have a good life and a loving partner). Being outcast by everyone, having nobody speak to me. Being beaten down to the ground, then picked up by my ankles and having my head held in a toilet while it was flushed at least once week. I'm amazed that I am still on this earth and didn't just throw myself off a cliff or in front of a train. What the poster upthread said about hearing a group of people laughing when walking down the street and thinking for a split second that they're lauging at you. It's horrible. Still to this day, anytime I start a new job or find myself in some new group situation I live in fear of some alpha male deciding that I will be the new victim and it's going to start all over again. I tried some therapy but really it didn't work for me, the wounds are so deep and still so fresh. Yes, I've moved on so to speak, but even typing this I have a strange feeling that I'm 13 years old all over again. %0D On a slightly different note, my five year old nephew started first grade yesterday. I was up all night worrying about him (I know he's only five but I have a feeling he might be gay). I just pray he's ok and doesn't have to live through the type of "school days" I did. %0D To those who suffered like me, and worse, we did at least make it and are still here. It's heartbreaking to hear of those victims who ended up taking their own lives.
|by Anonymous||reply 156||09/08/2010|
An older male neighbor.
|by Anonymous||reply 157||09/08/2010|
r156 - I think you articulate very well what a lot of us here can absolutely relate to.%0D %0D I was tormented as well but outgrew my "telltale" signs of being a "fag" when I left highschool. But only a few years ago, now in my late 30s, a homeless man came at me in Santa Monica and started calling me "faggot" and "fag" and all kinds of homophobic slurs and I was stopped dead in my tracks. Those feelings of being degraded that way based solely on physical characteristics shot me right back to being 13 and I was terrified of this man and of others watching and snickering. Even though he was probably just a schizophrenic randomly choosing those words at the time.%0D
|by Anonymous||reply 158||09/08/2010|
I can't talk about what happened to me but will relate what I saw happen. I lived with a lady for seven years who ran a day care (long story). One of my friends was a boy who one day for some reason cried. The lady bitch told him to stop crying. He didn't so she had him put on one of my dresses (I'm female) and made him walk to the park and tried to get all the kids to laugh at him and call him a sissy. No one laughed, all of us kids turned into robots with blank faces. I long lost touch with him, but, Jack, I hope you survived this and are doing well.
|by Anonymous||reply 159||09/08/2010|
Wow, r159 that is chilling. I hope that woman burns in hell with the pain of a thousand cancers.
|by Anonymous||reply 160||09/08/2010|
It's strange r29 but in the past...your situation was the same as what many kids were going through. Mother's aren't always what you want them to be.
|by Anonymous||reply 161||09/08/2010|
R78, I have that same memory from 1st grade (1971). Even though kids today are used to seeing things that are much more graphic than that, I don't think they'd actually show such a movie in schools today. Maybe they should, however -- the image of that bloody tennis shoe has stayed with me for 40 years.
|by Anonymous||reply 162||09/08/2010|
r93 - where was this?
|by Anonymous||reply 163||09/08/2010|
R156, if it alleviates your worries about your nephew any, (some) schools are tougher about stamping out bullying than they used to be.
|by Anonymous||reply 164||09/08/2010|
I always found it deperessing how bullies would always win approval for their behavior. I remember having minor insignificant disagreements with other students and they would verbally come at me with, "Fuck you faggot, I'll kick your fucking ass." Often it wouldn't just be the other male students cheering them on, but the female teachers pet types would be saying, "Yeah, way to go." Then they'd turn around and be respectful to the teachers. It just made me despise the entire institution of public shoooling. %0D %0D I never had 1 particular ass beating I could point to, but there were many slaps, smacks and shoves. Over the years well into the hundreds. When I think back on it I was assaulted a lot. In no other environment would you be expected to put up with that except prison or maybe home.
|by Anonymous||reply 165||09/08/2010|
R144 I'd be more inclined to believe a child [or children] was responsible for it.
|by Anonymous||reply 166||09/09/2010|
R144, it was probably a tomcat. Male cats are known to kill litters of kittens that are not their own progeny. Lions do the same thing.
A scenario like the one you described happened when I a kid on a farm and we pinned it on a strange cat that was hanging around. I don't recall the kittens being torn apart, but they were all killed by the intruder.
|by Anonymous||reply 167||09/09/2010|
I had forgotten about the Our Lady of Angels fire--so haunting and sad and it seems like most people outside of the Chicago area have probably never even heard of the tragedy.
|by Anonymous||reply 168||09/09/2010|
I saw a documentary on house cats. Tom cats, do kill kittens. The dead kittens they showed, where torn apart.
|by Anonymous||reply 169||09/09/2010|
R168 - There was a great thread on it here a few months ago. I had never heard of it and spent an entire afternoon reeeading all the links from that thread.%0D Having been in a bad fire, those type of stories always resonate for me.%0D %0D My disturbing memory was when my sister (10) and I (7) were getting on a train with my drunken alcoholic stepfather and we somehow got seperated and he got on the train and we didn't. Strange men kept coming up to us and asking if we were ok. Thankfully I have blocked out the memory of most of our "weekends" with my father. I do know that in class one time we were naming our favorite snacks and I said Andy Capp Pub Fries, which at the time were only sold in bars. The teacher called my mother, she was pissed at me for embarassing her.
|by Anonymous||reply 170||09/09/2010|
In my Pennsylvania town I was constantly bullied verbally and physically from 7th through 9th grades when it started to abate. While this was dreadful enough, it's a memory from a family vacation that I recall as being particularly disturbing.%0D %0D We used to go to the Jersey shore for 2 weeks every summer. I loved it because it was an escape from my cruel home town. Nobody knew me and I could relax. %0D %0D One afternoon when I was 12 or 13 a group of kids a few years older than me followed my father and me back from the beach to our vacation apartment while calling me fairy, homo, queer. %0D %0D My father stood up for me but I was mortified...I couldn't figure out how they knew who I was when I was so far away from home! It never occurred to me that as a sissy kid I telegraphed my gayness to creeps like them. %0D %0D I still remember how they ruined the feeling that I could get away from the hatefulness of my everyday life, even for a little while, and how I must be "marked" in some way.%0D %0D
|by Anonymous||reply 171||09/09/2010|
R151, I wish that would happen to me...%0D %0D rain or shine!
|by Anonymous||reply 172||09/09/2010|
Being forced to hold dead squirrels by the legs while my father gutted and skinned them. He, the hunter, wanted me to be a real man.
|by Anonymous||reply 173||09/09/2010|
I would have beat the crap out of my kid for that kind of bullying behavior. Why do parents never know that their kids are acting like assholes?%0D %0D You see, that's exactly why actors and sports figures need to come out.
|by Anonymous||reply 174||09/09/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 175||09/09/2010|
[quote]I heard my mother say "and they cut Sharon Tate's baby out of her".%0D %0D I'm 49 and I remember my mom telling her sisters about a couple of nightmares she'd had. One was where a man was chasing her with a machete through her house and she could see him but couldn't see his face. The other one was where she dreamed the sun had exploded and she couldn't find us kids. I was four years old and I remember that conversation like it happened yesterday. Parents are idiots for saying things like that around kids.
|by Anonymous||reply 176||09/09/2010|
[quote]Teachers who would call me "girl" and told me that I would never amount to anything %0D %0D I was five years old and on Easter my dad forced me to wear one of my sister's dresses, I don't remember why though. I remember him forcing the dress on me over my head. After he was done with that and we were ready to take pictures he made me stand against the wall to take it, and he demanded that I smile. That pic's still in one of the albums my mom has. I'm standing there in my little Easter suit and my eyes are nearly swollen shut but I have a smile on my face. %0D %0D Because that's what dad wanted.
|by Anonymous||reply 177||09/09/2010|
These stories are heartbreaking. I wish I could hug all of you. Bless you for SURVIVING.
|by Anonymous||reply 178||09/09/2010|
Man, this thread is riveting
|by Anonymous||reply 179||09/09/2010|
this one's not so sad,
When I was in kindergarten I had a teacher named Mrs. Perkins she was old and had that weird red hair poof that made her look like the lady from Lambshop's Play-along.
Well, it was North Carolina in the early 90's and this woman was a bit of a racist. She constantly reported to the school board that I was special needs and should not be in her class. They did not listened to her and had me test with the kids in the motor-skills courses for a week.
I admit to being a bit of an oddball even as an adult, but those poor children in that course looked as if they were trapped inside themselves. I was horrified to the point of tears. There were kids my age drooling all over themselves, making nonsensical utterances, pulling on their own hair. I realize these things were beyond their control and even as a child I was always very aware and made an effort to befriend the ones that could communicate well enough.
Anyway, they gave me all these tests and I passed every one with flying colors, to their surprise of course. There was even a point where they had me playing a game of catch with my instructor and they didn't think I'd catch the big giant red ball. I told them to give me a smaller ball so I could show off, then I threw the ball up to the ceiling with one hand and caught it with the other. That shut them up.
Well they put me back in Mrs. Perkins class after that and she was not happy about it. She took it upon herself to give me a skills test which consisted of addition and subtraction of double digit numbers, differentiating between odds and evens, and reading from Charlotte's Web. Well yeah some five year old's can do all that, but I couldn't. When I answered "I don't know" to most of her questions she called a parent-teacher meeting and told my mother to disenroll me a start looking for a school for the mentally challenged. My mother told her to go screw herself.
I wonder what good old Mrs. Perkins would have to say about my masters degree and numerous academic achievements. Honestly, I wish her well if she's still alive, that old nut is the reason I learned not care what strangers think of me.
Side note; I wonder how many potentially gifted students get lost in a school system that's designed to mislabel any behavior they don't understand.
|by Anonymous||reply 180||09/09/2010|
I am the most wistful person alive.
|by Anonymous||reply 181||09/09/2010|
"Side note: I wonder how many potentially gifted students get lost in a school system that's designed to mislabel any behavior they don't understand."%0D %0D About as many as are labelled 'gifted' and 'indigo treasures' by their crazy helicopter parents, even though they are as mediocre as LuAnn de Lesseps' belabored fashion sense, R180.
|by Anonymous||reply 182||09/09/2010|
I know, I've seen those cases as well, but I still think it's regrettable when a kid doesn't make eye contact and won't talk to the other kids and thus gets labeled as special needs. It happened a lot in the areas I grew up in, but I hear the schools have changed since then.
|by Anonymous||reply 183||09/09/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 184||09/09/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 185||09/10/2010|
Around 5th grade my grades started to slide. There was all sorts of hand wringing, etc. over it but the reality was that I was bored.
You'd be very surprised what boredom causes a kid (Or an adult) to get into.
|by Anonymous||reply 186||09/11/2010|
I have a vivid memory from when I was around 5 or so. I was in my driveway with my father and a bunch of other kids. All of a sudden we saw a slightly older kid--maybe 10--come up to us. I remember he said, "Please...get the bees off me." I don't remember seeing bees, but apparently he was covered in hundreds of them. He'd ridden his bike over a hive and had been stung multiple times. I don't remember the other kids reacting in any way. I guess the memory has stayed with me because it was so frightening. It's not like I remember other stuff from that age so vividly.
|by Anonymous||reply 187||09/11/2010|
R171, that is a really sad story. Heart-breaking in fact. I am so sorry you had to experience that. It's the kind of scenario I always lived in fear of.
|by Anonymous||reply 188||09/11/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 189||09/12/2010|
r180 that sounds like my teacher in grade 1. I went to a Catholic school that year, because we had just moved to town and my dad's family were all Catholics so of course they recommended it. Anyways I was one of about four unbaptized kids in the class and so I was picked on. I too was weird and painfully shy. I also tended to drift into my own world and ignore the teacher. This along with the fact that I had a difficult time coloring within the lines made her decide that I was mentally challenged. I was forced to take skills test too and always passed with flying colors. Eventually she gave up testing me and just moved my desk to the back of the class. All she let me do during the day was sit there with stupid pictures and try to color within the lines. This teacher also insulted me along with the class calling me a "nincompoop"? That was the late 80s and she was quite old so she's probably burning in Hell right now.
|by Anonymous||reply 190||09/12/2010|
My dad, the man who forced me to wear my sister's dress on Easter, only played golf as recreation. He never took me out to learn to throw a ball of any kind or kick a football or shoot a basketball, etc. I was a bookworm when I was little so I was perfectly happy to sit and read rather than play outside.%0D %0D In 3rd or 4th grade we were playing softball and were using those stands where you place the ball on the top so you could swing at it. The gym teacher put it too high up for my swing, and I think he did it on purpose. %0D %0D Mike Stimack was ex-Marine and a total dick so of course he was perfect to be a gym teacher in the 60s. I told him it was too high but he made me swing anyway and of course I hit the post not the ball and struck out. I ran over toward the school and cried. The class continued to play and he let the kids make fun of me. I know Mike Stimack's also burning in hell for how he treated kids. I just know he is.%0D %0D Another time they had this skills test where we had to throw a ball, among other things. They wanted to measure how far you could throw. Well because my dad never taught me to throw I just threw it and I think it probably went three feet, if that. %0D %0D Because of that and other experiences I never liked team sports of any kind. Within the past few years I've learned that I love to walk. I walk miles and miles every day weather permitting. I usually walk the same routes but I never get tired of it.%0D %0D I found my peace in spite of so many people trying to stop that from happening. I hope all of you who have posted here have found yours.%0D %0D
|by Anonymous||reply 191||09/12/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 192||09/14/2010|
[quote]Well because my dad never taught me to throw I just threw it and I think it probably went three feet, if that.
This is not because your "dad never taught you to throw." I don't doubt you had shitty things happen to you as a kid but creating crimes to blame people for won't help you find peace.
|by Anonymous||reply 193||09/14/2010|
r191 - I get it. My father died when I was 7 so I never learned all those "boy" things growing up, including throwing a ball. You have several embarassing things happen and you retreat into a shell you create. For many of us, it was old movies and books. %0D %0D I basically learned to throw a baseball and football (effectively) as an adult when I had boys to raise. %0D %0D Your situation is more painful because you had a father there who should have helped you more.
|by Anonymous||reply 194||09/15/2010|
Throwing a ball more than three feet is not rocket science and does not require specialized lessons. No one was expecting him to pitch for the Yankees, just lob a ball as far as he could. Blaming his father for his lack of hand/eye coordination is lame.
|by Anonymous||reply 195||09/16/2010|
You're pretty clueless r195. Not one said you had to take a class in ball-throwing. But there is a technicque to not "throw like a girl" (sorry, ladies - you know how I mean that) and he had a dad there who never taught him that. I bet you there are a lot of guys here on DL who have had their fathers basically reject them early on as "sissies".
|by Anonymous||reply 196||09/16/2010|
I lived in a remote rural area. My relatives were batshit crazy. So I have about a million disturbing memories of childhood that still plague me. Here are a few:%0D %0D A girl in my class was repeatedly molested by an old man in the area. Supposedly he gave her money or candy to let him do what he wanted to do. He injured her genital area so badly that she had to be hospitalized and stitched up. She always told people that the injuries were caused by her "falling between two crates."%0D %0D Another young girl in my class was attacked by some boys (boys, not teenagers) who were all known to her. She was on a beach; they stripped her of her bathing suit and "felt her all over" I was told. I guess they thought if they did more they might get in trouble.%0D %0D My grandmother molested my brother in front of me. She liked to kiss his penis. It was a nightly ritual; she'd say "take out your little dee-dee (that's what she called his penis), I want to kiss your little dee-dee goodnight."%0D %0D Of course none of the people who committed those crimes were ever arrested or even questioned. The place were I grew up was a cesspool and the people who lived there were the scum of this earth.
|by Anonymous||reply 197||09/16/2010|
My dad's work periodically took him to the Eastern Bloc. My mom and I came to visit.
I'll never forget communist Bucharest in the 80s. The dark nights (they turned the lights off to save electricity). The hungry, cold crowds lining up to get food from underlit tiny stores that actually had no food. The lack of cars -- huge throngs of people fanning out from the tram stops, probably walking for miles in the snow. I felt this was wrong and felt desperately sorry for the Romanians, especially the old people and small children.
Have been back, Romania is a bit of a chaotic, trashy mess now but that is sure better than what it used to be.
|by Anonymous||reply 198||09/16/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 199||09/16/2010|
You know I was going to write this big explanation of why I feel the way I do about my dad but all I'll express here is that you posters who are laying this at my feet didn't live my life. You weren't there.
I know what I went through and I know where to place blame.
|by Anonymous||reply 200||09/16/2010|
OF course your father should have taught you to throw. It is very much his fault you were not coordinated because it doesn't take coordination to throw a ball, just proper instruction.
|by Anonymous||reply 201||09/17/2010|
I went to a catholic school and my mother could not afford the "saddle(sp?)" shoes that my school wanted me to wear. I was stood up in front of the class and humiliated by an evil nun.
|by Anonymous||reply 202||09/17/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 203||09/18/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 204||09/18/2010|
there was a girl i went to school with, 6th grade through 12th. she wasn't very pretty, and she had a twangy country voice and braces. she was also very tall, and awkward. she lived on the outskirts of town in a trailer with her mother and the mom's rough boyfriend. naturally she was bullied and taunted for being "white trash."
i remember in 6th grade she came to school in some new expensive jeans, and she was telling everybody how fancy they were, trying so hard to fit in and be "one of the gang"; and then some boys came up behind her and pushed her into a mud puddle mid-sentence. onto the ground, her books and everything. i still remember her sitting in that puddle, filthy, crying so hard she was howling. her face turned up to the sky, red-cheeked and covered with tears.
in high school she found a gang of misfits to hang out with, and there were still some instances of bullying, but for the most part i think she was happy with her friends. i always felt bad though, because when we were kids she liked me and i didn't want to encourage the wrath of anybody so i didn't like her back. i wasn't cruel to her, but i wasn't a friend either.
i heard after high school her mom's boyfriend shot her mom and killed her, then killed himself. i wonder what she is doing now, how it all turned out. i am sad, because i have an idea.
|by Anonymous||reply 205||09/18/2010|
When I was in the 4th grade, some friends and I started talking about the respective day cares we attended when we were younger. Two of my friends, J and B, attended the same day care and that's when the conversation veered toward the disturbing.
B started going on and on about a male employee at the day care who was fired for molesting kids. J eventually got really angry and told B to shut up. It was strange--J was near tears and visibly shaken by the stories B was telling us.
To this day, I think J was one of the male employee's victims...he ended up failing a grade and it was pretty clear he had some serious issues stemming from his childhood.
|by Anonymous||reply 206||09/18/2010|
um, R76, how do you think he got paid. It was part of the deal. But then at some level, you've always known that right?
|by Anonymous||reply 207||09/18/2010|
Childhood sucks. I developed very early, I'm talking 4th grade, I got my period and had boobs and started gaining weight due to hormones. I was mercilessly teased for being plump and the boys would constantly walk by and sock me in the tits. Finally in the summer before jr. high I slimmed down over a summer. I absolutely hate bullies and will literally let them have it if I see them picking on some poor kid.
|by Anonymous||reply 208||09/18/2010|
In 72 or 73 there was a girl in my friend's junior high that had a badly hooked nose. Everyone at her school called her Witchipoo from HR Pufnstuf.
After she graduated from high school she had her nose fixed and she turned out to be a stunner. She got the last laugh.
|by Anonymous||reply 209||09/18/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 210||09/18/2010|
Such sad stories here. Let's learn from them. Treat yourself well. Treat other people well. If you have kids in your life, be kind to them and encourage them to be good to others.
|by Anonymous||reply 211||09/20/2010|
here's another memory of the bloody tennis shoe movie, and i saw it in the late 70's!
|by Anonymous||reply 212||09/24/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 213||09/25/2010|
I was molested at a young age by a man who lived a couple of houses away. It must have gone on for some time as it is sketchy but at least for 6-12 months. Well apparently we were seen by a neighbor in the bushes of the molesters home and he told my parents. I came home from school to find my parents waiting to talk to me and ask me what was going on. My mother then said to me. "It's a good thing that you were only seen by the neighbor and no one else as I could have been sent to PRISON"....As I grew up and thought back on this I thought how could my own mother blame me for this. It was never mentioned again but has left very deep scars of self loathing.
|by Anonymous||reply 214||09/25/2010|
I was molested by the priest of the local church next to our elementary school when I was in the third grade. He was absolute vile scum. I remember him telling me that because my family didn't go to church regularly, we were 'evil' people, and that we would have to work to gain forgiveness from god and make ourselves 'good' again. He told me that he was my link to god and that he would help me. Even thinking about it, I feel sick. I have never told anyone, but a couple of years later he was arrested for molesting other girls from my school. I don't know what happened to that piece of shit after that.
My father was also a piece of scum. He did a lot of horrible things to our family, but there was one thing which pissed me off most of all and which to this day fills me with rage. After beating the living shit out of us (and I mean real beating) or his daily dose of psychological, psychopathic abuse (he was a twisted man), he would make us come up to him and kiss him on the cheek and tell him we loved him. Let me tell you, all the beating and all the mental torture in the world, didn't make my stomach turn like that did. I felt as if he was ripping the last bit of dignity from us. Every fiber of my being would rebel against it, but I knew it would lead to more beatings. Not just for me, for my brothers and sisters, and as the oldest I couldn't put them through more. So I just let my soul burn and did it. I don't think he can fully understand how much I hate him.
|by Anonymous||reply 215||09/25/2010|
For an example of the type of man he was, here is one incident that was actually typical and commonplace: One day we were going to my grandmother's house, so I went to the staircase and shouted my brother's name because he always slept in, and never could seem to abide an alarm clock. I didn't know my father's was in the house, least of all on the phone. He came charging into the room and grabbed my neck with his hand, looking like a fucking wild, demented bull he was so angry. He let go of me so he could finish his conversation, but kept looking at me with that wild demented look that all you other victims of abuse might be able to recognize on your abusers faces. I went into the living room because there were less things to hit me with in there and the surfaces weren't as sharp. I'm still sick over the fact that my mind came to the point where those kind of decisions were the first to pop into my head. Along with going to put extra sweaters on, to lesson the impact of the blows, which is what I also did.
He came charging into the room when he finished his call, and I shit you not, grabbed me by the back of my clothes and threw me against the wall with all his force. I was a 13-year-old girl. I was lying on the floor in pain, and he began to lay into me, punching me, slapping me. Screaming at me for interrupting his call. He stood up and began kicking me in the stomach. My little brother tried to intervene and my dad threw him against the wall. The kid was 9. My dad turned his attention back to me and began spitting on me. That was his second-favourite form of degradation. After that he left me lying there and I was pretty fucked up, but not as bad as I could have been, because the living room had carpet and I was wearing those extra layers to lesson the blow. He came back, made me kiss him on the cheek and tell him I loved him. All for shouting my brother's name. He thought I hadn't had enough apparently, because he stopped the car on the way there to slap the shit out of me a bit more, all the time from the beginning to the end, telling me I was a stupid bitch, and that I would never learn. I wasn't in a state to see my grandparent's, so he made my mother take me home.
My mother was something else, I've tried feeling sorry for her because I know she lived through the same hell. But she made it so hard for me. So many times I wanted to call the police, call anyone for help. But she would always tell me that if I did the police would take my little brother and sisters and put them with another family and I would never see them again. I wanted all of us to leave him, but she was too weak for that and told me he would find us (in all honesty he would have probably spent his life trying, and would have killed us when he found us). She told me that if I ran away, or tried to kill myself, they would investigate and take my brother and sister's away. I didn't want to leave anyway, because I couldn't leave my siblings alone with him. I spent most of my time protecting them, cautioning them on what not to say or do around my father, counseling them to help them understand why none of this was there fault, and trying to repairs the damage his words and violence did; so that they would have some chance to growing up into normal people. The whole time feeling trapped in a way that I think few people can appreciate.
wow, i'm sorry for the essay DL'ers, i've never actually told people this stuff before.
|by Anonymous||reply 216||09/25/2010|
Whoa r215, I'm sorry. I hope life is better for you now
|by Anonymous||reply 217||09/25/2010|
An unpopular girl (overweight and not pretty) told the class that her mother made her sleep on the front porch when she was in trouble. I laughed it off, I was only about 10, but now, I really believe it was true and it amazes me that the teacher didn't do anything. Occasionally I pass her house and I feel a bit of guilt, even though I couldn't have done anything except be kinder.
|by Anonymous||reply 218||09/25/2010|
When I was 8, my babysitter would often force me to watch pornography and then make me take off my clothes and basically parade myself in front of her. It affected my entire outlook on sex. I still can't masturbate without feeling utterly disgusted with myself. I told my parents about it when I was 13, but they shrugged it off and refused to acknowledge it.
The rate of sexual molestation of children is so frightening and there's nothing that can be done. It'll persist.
|by Anonymous||reply 219||09/25/2010|
r127, thank you. For the most part i'm surprisingly okay. I've always been a very introspective person, and I would analyze and process my emotions and my understanding of the situation I was in, and the things I experienced; so that I would learn from them, instead of be a victim of them. Of course, I will never be fully okay, but no one is, and you just have to move on. Despite the hand I was dealt, I never became trapped in the behavioural pitfalls often associated with people who've lived a shitty childhood, which later manifests into self-destructive behaviour (ie. drug addiction, criminal behaviour, self-harm, eating disorders, etc). I work closely with these issues in my adult life, because I understand the place where a lot of it comes from.
My sister wasn't so lucky, but she still has time; although the assault and attempted murder charge's she's accumulated make that a long road to cross. My brother is okay, but he is 20 and while he never fell into any of those pitfalls I listed previously, he does have a lot of problems with interpersonal relationships and relating with other people. But he is a brave guy, and always stands to bullies, and is protective of most everyone. My baby sister is alright as well, she has more motivation than all of us combined, but she is an extremely closed off and guarded person, and I don't think i've ever seen her cry.
|by Anonymous||reply 220||09/25/2010|
I meant r217
|by Anonymous||reply 221||09/25/2010|
I was adopted from Ireland. I remember when my mom would get drunk she would tell me that she was going to buy a one way ticket to Ireland for me and claim that I was an undesirable. It scared the hell out of me. I made excuses for her behavior because I loved her so much, but she really did emotionally abuse me. She has been dead for 12 years and I still cry over her even though she was emotionally abusive.
|by Anonymous||reply 222||09/25/2010|
When I was in the first grade, all the way up to around the 4th grade, I would have to walk down a REALLY long street to get to my school bus. I was dropped off at the same spot for home too. During the home walk, just two houses away from my house, this disgusting middle aged man would just happen to get his mail - buck naked with his door wide open.
I would try and do everything to avoid looking up while walking past his house, or just run when I got closer.
I saw him at the store once with my mom and I just freaked. I hid behind her and she had no idea what the hell was wrong with me. She had to force me to walk beside her.
I know it doesn't seem like a big deal, but seeing a naked man every day from the ages of 6 to 10 really disturbed me.
I hope to hell he didn't become some rapist.
|by Anonymous||reply 223||09/25/2010|
Sending love to all of you r215. I grew up in an abusive family and you remind me of my brave/strong big sister.
|by Anonymous||reply 224||09/25/2010|
Yeah... having kids makes you a better person.
You kids did well to survive R215 I hope life treats you all kindly from now on. You've paid your dues.
Are you parents still alive?
|by Anonymous||reply 225||09/25/2010|
r224 thank you friend, we send that love right back. Sorry you had to grow up that way as well. And thank you for the honour of comparing me to your brave/strong older sister. Send my love to her as well. I actually can't comprehend what it must be like to go through that kind of hell as an only child, at least we had people who we loved and who loved us back to commiserate and band together with.
Hope you are alright now.
|by Anonymous||reply 226||09/25/2010|
r225, thank you for your kindness, my siblings would thank you as well. Living through it, I knew it was one big game of survival, but at least I take comfort in knowing of how much stronger of a person it has made me.
Yes, they are both still living. My mother now dwells in the land of delusion. She likes to pretend most of what happened never happened, and that what happened wasn't bad at all. Whenever we show her our scars to try to knock some sense into her, she feigns amazement that this could have been going on around her and she wouldn't notice it. It is endlessly frustrating to deal with someone who repeatedly tries to rewrite our personal histories and seems to have rose-coloured glasses permanently embedded on her face, but I don't find it worth it to waste anymore of my life fighting with her.
My father is so doped up on medication because of regular and intensely painful migraines, that he barely knows what's going on half the time and his aggression seems to have disappeared almost completely as a side effect. He poses no real threat to me anymore, but it doesn't matter, because I barely have any contact with him anyway, as a matter of personal choice. He doesn't deserve to know me, or the person I became in spite of him.
|by Anonymous||reply 227||09/25/2010|
Thank you r215/227. We've all made it through okay.We still have our small trip ups, but nothing major. All of us avoided relationships into our late 20s and early 30s, but are slowly letting people in.
|by Anonymous||reply 228||09/25/2010|
r224 Glad to hear you and your siblings are okay, sorry to hear about your difficulties with relationships. I think that's the worst part, how hard it is to have healthy normal relationships. I'm 24 and in the whole avoiding relationships phase at the moment, glad to hear that that gets better. It's the trust, as you know; it's hard to really trust anyone enough to let them get close enough to hurt you again.
|by Anonymous||reply 229||09/26/2010|
in elementary school a little boy pushed the retarded girl off the top of the "big" slide. i watched her fall. it was surreal. one of those so-mo moments. she was ok and the little boy stopped being such a bully after that.
|by Anonymous||reply 230||09/26/2010|
Your story breaks my heart, R215. The fact that you've grown past his abuse and been able to repair your life speaks well of your strength and I hope you're proud of who you're becoming, I'm proud of you.
Your story reminded me of one that ran in our local weekly:
|by Anonymous||reply 231||09/26/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 232||09/27/2010|
R85- That band Flipper seems to be composed of some really messed up people or at least some people who date really messed up people.
They recently started touring again with a new, female bass player. She has been dating a guy who years ago stalked my older sister until she became absolutely terrified of going out of her house. I am nine years younger than her, but I will never forget the times my sister would come home from college. Every morning I would notice that she had tacked up random pieces of clothing to block some imagined space between the drapery and the window sills. At some point every night, her fear would take over and she was convinced that somehow her stalker could have tracked her to our house and could see her through the windows.
Eventually, he ended up attacking her at a party that he crashed. He walked in and grabbed her by the throat, shook her and threw her to the ground before her friends jumped him. He went to jail.
I remember seeing a polaroid picture of my sister from that night, documenting her injuries. She looked hysterical, mascara smeared, tears running down her cheeks, wild eyes and big red marks around her neck. Twelve years later and my brother and I talk about looking him up and beating his ass just because. We were little boys who worshipped our older sister and this whole ordeal terrified us and my sister has never completely gotten over it.
The reason I know about the Flipper bass player dating him is because I actually have been doing a little research into this guy's whereabouts.
|by Anonymous||reply 233||09/27/2010|
I always womdered weht to Avalon, the foreign exchane kid who lived next door to me. He disappeared back in the summer of '89.
|by Anonymous||reply 234||09/28/2010|
That I threw up all the pills I took when I wanted to kill myself at 13.
|by Anonymous||reply 235||09/28/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 236||09/28/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 237||10/01/2010|
When I was about 9 or 10 years old I had his female friend who was the same age as I was (I'm female too).%0D %0D She was a 9 year-old version of a drama queen - she claimed some guy tried to kidnap her from school, etc, she was always telling lies about her family - her Mom had been an actress, her sister was a model. %0D %0D She was also precociously sexual, and was the very first female that made a sexual overture towards me when I spent the night with her and it freaked me out. %0D %0D I stopped being friends with her afterwards, and it was only a few years later that I finally figured out that she was probably being sexualy molested by her Dad (long story).%0D %0D She committed suicide when she was 18, and to this day I feel guilt about being too young and stupid to understand what she was going through and reach out to her.
|by Anonymous||reply 238||10/01/2010|
R238, you were only 9 years old! Give yourself a break!
|by Anonymous||reply 239||10/01/2010|
|by Anonymous||reply 240||03/04/2013|
The world is very dusty, uncle. Let us work.
One day the sickness shall pass from the earth for good.
The orchard will bloom; someone will play the guitar.
Our work will be seen as strong and clean and good.
And all that we suffered through having existed
Shall be forgotten as though it had never existed.
|by Anonymous||reply 241||03/05/2013|
Bump for later
|by Anonymous||reply 242||03/07/2013|
My dad has this temper tantrum throughout his life. He cusses everyone he knows in life. He has no friends now.
My mother died when I was five and a half after enduring years of abuse from my dad. My dad would continue his temper tantrum almost daily after work. I would hide myself under a blanket in bed. When dad finished screaming and smashing things, he would peel of the blanket to ask me to eat dinner. Those are the better days. The worst day would be, he started his screaming and smashing after dinner. Almost always, I would run out of the door to throw up. There were times I couldn't run fast enough and threw up on my clothes. The rest of the evening would be a completely terror.
Today, I am still dealing with my depression and anxiety attacks in my 40s. My dad, in his early 80s, still smashes things once in a while for trivial things, like smashing the chair when he trips over it or smashing a bottle in anger when the lid is too tight for his to open.
People say, you can't choose your family, but I feel so lucky, I can choose to stay far away as possible.
|by Anonymous||reply 243||03/07/2013|