the world of gayeDIARY OF THE DAMAGED
June 17th 2008 06:38
DIARY OF THE DAMAGED
If you have been lucky enough to have had two, or even one stable caring parent then you won’t know what I am talking about, but if you are like me then this story will feel like your story.
And if you are a parent read this and learn what absolute devastation you can wreak on your child and do something about it before it’s too late. My mum and dad got married back in the fifties because they fell pregnant and in those days there was not much choice, and I think I ruined their lives. My dad hated me, even though I loved him and I have no memories of my mother defending me because I think she was to scared to speak up. I have no memories of him playing with me, or enjoying me as a father enjoys a child. He spent no time with me, and when he did he was drunk and angry. He was a hateful father, his voice alone scared me when he was angry. His face would go almost black with anger and his voice would deepen and knew I was in trouble. From the earliest memories I have, I remember being in trouble if I laughed to loud, if I put my elbows on the table, if I didn’t eat what was put in front of me, even if it made me heave. There were so many things I got into trouble for I was to scared to breathe sometimes. The punishment was stern and savage, his leather belt would come off and I would be strapped around the knees or the bum, even as a very little child, he would pull my long hair, or just hit me anywhere he could lay his hands on as hard as possible. But the mental punishment was worse. If I cried because I was in pain, because he made sure he hit as hard as he could, he would hit me again for crying. And so as a consequence I grew up ashamed to show emotion. I always try as hard as I cannot to show any emotion in front of other people, it makes me feel weak and ashamed. If I do feel a tear coming on I panic and find the nearest corner to hide in or I run away from the situation. And then there was the names he called me nearly every day of my life and continues to do so even at the age of 70. As a little child I was big and kept getting bigger until I was an overweight child. Not grossly overweight, but enough for him to show his utter disgust at me. When he was drunk (which was quite often) or angry (again quite often) he would hone in on my looks. I don’t remember being called by my real name very often, more often than not it was “ what are you doing stupid, or get in here you fat slob”. When you call your children names like this every day of their childhood, the result is no self esteem whatsoever. In fact it has affected every area of my life. I can honestly say that the reason I have never really had a boyfriend or got married is because I have been convinced by the one man in my life I was both ugly and stupid. It stays with you forever, so every time I was given a compliment or asked out I thought to myself “this guy must be on a dare, or “he’s making fun of me”. I could not and still do not ever believe anyone when they compliment me, dad taught me well. Everyone else is far more worthy than I, I am a freak not to be loved by anyone.
If this is what you are doing to your kids you are destroying them. I have had all these years to try and get help and avoided it because I always felt like I wasn’t worth the effort. And so life has passed me by and I have achieved nothing. I don’t know if this is what my father wanted, or if he just took his disappointment in his life out on me, but this is the result. My mother never came to my defence which has probably made me feel even more worthless, but she was, and is a good person who tried her best. She was just so scared of him I think. I don’t remember ever being held or cuddled, my sisters do, they remember being told they were loved and they grew up pretty normal. I think it proves that if you don’t nurture a child they die inside. I also know I have learned some of his nastiness, and I found that at times I have been unreasonably angry with my child. I have tried to correct anything I have done to hurt him as he grew up. I wasn’t brutal like my father but I think I could have shown him more love, in fact my son is the one who has shown me how to say I love you to someone. And so if you are an angry parent or you call your children names constantly you had better stop before you ruin their lives, believe me the effects are forever.
If you have been lucky enough to have had two, or even one stable caring parent then you won’t know what I am talking about, but if you are like me then this story will feel like your story.
And if you are a parent read this and learn what absolute devastation you can wreak on your child and do something about it before it’s too late. My mum and dad got married back in the fifties because they fell pregnant and in those days there was not much choice, and I think I ruined their lives. My dad hated me, even though I loved him and I have no memories of my mother defending me because I think she was to scared to speak up. I have no memories of him playing with me, or enjoying me as a father enjoys a child. He spent no time with me, and when he did he was drunk and angry. He was a hateful father, his voice alone scared me when he was angry. His face would go almost black with anger and his voice would deepen and knew I was in trouble. From the earliest memories I have, I remember being in trouble if I laughed to loud, if I put my elbows on the table, if I didn’t eat what was put in front of me, even if it made me heave. There were so many things I got into trouble for I was to scared to breathe sometimes. The punishment was stern and savage, his leather belt would come off and I would be strapped around the knees or the bum, even as a very little child, he would pull my long hair, or just hit me anywhere he could lay his hands on as hard as possible. But the mental punishment was worse. If I cried because I was in pain, because he made sure he hit as hard as he could, he would hit me again for crying. And so as a consequence I grew up ashamed to show emotion. I always try as hard as I cannot to show any emotion in front of other people, it makes me feel weak and ashamed. If I do feel a tear coming on I panic and find the nearest corner to hide in or I run away from the situation. And then there was the names he called me nearly every day of my life and continues to do so even at the age of 70. As a little child I was big and kept getting bigger until I was an overweight child. Not grossly overweight, but enough for him to show his utter disgust at me. When he was drunk (which was quite often) or angry (again quite often) he would hone in on my looks. I don’t remember being called by my real name very often, more often than not it was “ what are you doing stupid, or get in here you fat slob”. When you call your children names like this every day of their childhood, the result is no self esteem whatsoever. In fact it has affected every area of my life. I can honestly say that the reason I have never really had a boyfriend or got married is because I have been convinced by the one man in my life I was both ugly and stupid. It stays with you forever, so every time I was given a compliment or asked out I thought to myself “this guy must be on a dare, or “he’s making fun of me”. I could not and still do not ever believe anyone when they compliment me, dad taught me well. Everyone else is far more worthy than I, I am a freak not to be loved by anyone.
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Comment by katyzzz
Photography Tips
MS Paint Art
I think you're great and so should he, he needs to be told and to feel ashamed.
Comment by Anonymous
I am okay, I survived but I wonder if people realise what damage they do and how long it lasts. Thanks for your kind words
love gaye
Comment by Tracy
Movies and Life
I'm sorry to hear your story. I agree that words erode and harm a person, as do actions.
I'm fortunate to have two lovely parents, but my sister often called me names, sneered at me and at times didn't want me around. It deeply affected me. As you said, to the extent that if I had an emotion I would run away or hide, I was ashamed. It's taken me years to move past the words even though she's not alive any more.
I wish you strength, Gaye.
Tracy