I'm sitting at my desk and my mind is currently blank. I don't know where to start!
I'm an 18 year female, currently at my first year at Uni. I moved away for Uni, which is one of the best decisions I have ever made.
As a child I was physically and emotionally abused. From being beaten by a metal wire, pole, punches to being called lazy, useless etc.
I used to think it was normal because in the Asian culture parents had full control over how they disciplined their child. As I grew older I realised that this was far worse than discipline because my mother would get angry over teeny tiny things. She was bought up in a village in Pakistan you see and dropping bread crumbs and whatnot was deemed punishable by a beating apparently.
My dad never really hit us until we actually did something that was really wrong. But he never really stopped my mum.
This is not to say that I was always getting beaten up and have no fond memories of my childhood but I am also not condoning what my parents did either.
I always had the latest toy, clothes, went on all the trips. They gave me money and I have a love for science because of dad. We would sit and discuss religion and evolution. No one would suspect that this was the same man that beat up his daughter out of anger because she banged the door shut.
What I'm trying to say is that if it wasn't for my parents, I wouldn't be the person I am today. Yes, because of them I used to cry myself to sleep on occasions and wished I was never born but I still love them but also hate what they did to me.
I didn't realise that because of them I don't trust people fully and even though I be myself around my friends, they don't know about the abuse. They all think that I was bought up in a wealthy, educated household with all this freedom. Which leads me to think, do they actually know me at all?
In all my 18 years of life, I have never told anyone about and because the abuse stopped and I was living this 'perfect' life I had created for myself all the memories were regressed.
I started believing what others thought of me, that I did have a happy childhood. That my younger sister didn't overdose. But when I went home for Christmas, all the memories just came back and I sort of had a breakdown and realised I needed closure. And the only way for me to have trusting relationships was admit the problem to myself first and not be ashamed and embarrassed of this secret.
YES I WAS ABUSED! And no I haven't gone into all the details of the abuse. But I'm already starting to feel better after writing this.
Now what I need to know now is, should I tell my friends? I'm scared they will judge me or hate my parents, who are fine now, somewhat and my dad cried when I left and he doesn't hit anymore.
I'm an 18 year female, currently at my first year at Uni. I moved away for Uni, which is one of the best decisions I have ever made.
As a child I was physically and emotionally abused. From being beaten by a metal wire, pole, punches to being called lazy, useless etc.
I used to think it was normal because in the Asian culture parents had full control over how they disciplined their child. As I grew older I realised that this was far worse than discipline because my mother would get angry over teeny tiny things. She was bought up in a village in Pakistan you see and dropping bread crumbs and whatnot was deemed punishable by a beating apparently.
My dad never really hit us until we actually did something that was really wrong. But he never really stopped my mum.
This is not to say that I was always getting beaten up and have no fond memories of my childhood but I am also not condoning what my parents did either.
I always had the latest toy, clothes, went on all the trips. They gave me money and I have a love for science because of dad. We would sit and discuss religion and evolution. No one would suspect that this was the same man that beat up his daughter out of anger because she banged the door shut.
What I'm trying to say is that if it wasn't for my parents, I wouldn't be the person I am today. Yes, because of them I used to cry myself to sleep on occasions and wished I was never born but I still love them but also hate what they did to me.
I didn't realise that because of them I don't trust people fully and even though I be myself around my friends, they don't know about the abuse. They all think that I was bought up in a wealthy, educated household with all this freedom. Which leads me to think, do they actually know me at all?
In all my 18 years of life, I have never told anyone about and because the abuse stopped and I was living this 'perfect' life I had created for myself all the memories were regressed.
I started believing what others thought of me, that I did have a happy childhood. That my younger sister didn't overdose. But when I went home for Christmas, all the memories just came back and I sort of had a breakdown and realised I needed closure. And the only way for me to have trusting relationships was admit the problem to myself first and not be ashamed and embarrassed of this secret.
YES I WAS ABUSED! And no I haven't gone into all the details of the abuse. But I'm already starting to feel better after writing this.
Now what I need to know now is, should I tell my friends? I'm scared they will judge me or hate my parents, who are fine now, somewhat and my dad cried when I left and he doesn't hit anymore.
Put the internet to work for you.
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