This is hard to write but it needs to be said: I was abused. It all started when I was 6 years old. My mom had gotten a strict new boyfriend after my dad left. He beat the living shit out of me at least twice a month for 5 years. He raised me as nothing more than a punching bag. I was not allowed to laugh or cry unless he deemed it OK. Everything I did was by his standards, but it wasn't enough to save me. Every time I would receive money for my birthday or Christmas he would take it and use it to buy drugs and alcohol which he would then get hopped up on and beat my mother and I. The worst part is how screwed I was. I didn't tell anyone about it, because I thought it was normal. Whenever anyone asked if he hit me I said "Yes, when I'm bad.", then I would proceed to give spanking as an example - a simple mistake which provided his freedom and my imprisonment. I did not know that it was abuse and neither did anyone else because of his flawless cover-up strategy: expensive gifts. He would give me cool toys and video games to make everything seem OK; this made it easy for him to look like a good person to the outside world. However, nothing he gave me was good enough to make a barricade. One thing I learned quickly was to never run from a beating because it only made him hit harder. There were times when I would lock my bedroom door in an attempt to keep him out which lead to one of my scariest experiences: finding out that he had a key. The sound that that key would make whenever he slid it into the lock still haunts me. I can still see him thrusting open that door and rushing in to dominate me. That was scary for an 8-year-old.

However, even if I had known about the abnormality of my situation, there would not be much of a difference. My choices would have been limited to either that environment or foster care.

I can still remember that the happiest moment of my life was overhearing that final fight and knowing that he would never be back. You could never imagine how that felt. How it felt to know freedom for the first time in ages. It was the most beautiful experience I have ever known. After that, I went on living a somewhat normal life for a while. It was never easy since my violent home life had given me inappropriate social skills, but I managed... until 3 years ago. My mom got a new boyfriend and it was pretty much the same thing except I had to get child services involved. Both during and after this my mom forbade me to tell anyone about the problems in my home life. If I did ever tell someone, my mom would say that I was a mistake or that my brothers are better than me and would then proceed to tell friends and family that I'm abusive and a bad person, etc. She does let me buy stuff afterwards as a sort of compensation, I guess - Nothing too major, just like $20 a month or so. Except for that $127 jacket she bought me that one time - which is a lot like what my step dad did.

Now, here are some examples of my life:

• When I was 8 my father committed suicide while hunting at his friend's ranch.

• My mom married her abusive boyfriend (when I was 6) who then made me take his last name (when I was 8).

• My step dad once tried to lure me into a detached garage to hit me - luckily, I was saved at the last moment.

• I was once in Cayucos or somewhere when I saw a machine that gave little toys for 75¢ and got my step dad to buy me one. He told me that there was a sign on the machine that said you would receive a second one free if you did not push the button. It was cool! The machine had flashing lights and sounds and was just beautiful! Over the beeps and boops I could hear my step dad saying "Don't push the button! Don't push the button!". I got nervous and pushed the button. I don't think I've ever been back handed so hard in my life. There were dozens of witnesses, but nobody even tried to help. After that, he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to the exit where he showed me the toy and said "You see this?!" right before throwing it in the trash. But I didn't care about the toy, I cared about the pain and fear that were about to overtake my night. I was only 8-10.

• The night I found out my dad died, I saw the hatred in his eyes as he watched me cry over another man. That was a mistake.

• I was playing with Legos by the door in my room when I heard my mother call for me. I responded with "I'm coming!" In a normal hyper way that is to be expected of a child. The next thing I know, the door flings open and I am met with the second hardest back hand of my life. He yells "Don't you talk to your mother like that!" And proceeds to tear my room apart and pull the drawers out of my dresser. As he's storming out, my mom bends over to pick up my Legos and after about 2 seconds, he throws my flip-open Gameboy at her head. I was only 7-8.

• He once choked my mom until she passed out and when she woke up he told her that he could kill her and not even think about it until later.

• There was the time that the neighbor's house was on fire and our smoke alarms went off in the middle of the night my mom picked me out of bed he nearly pushed her over when he ran past her holding his poodle. I did not wake up throughout that ordeal.

• He once took my brother and I to the garage where he yelled about a dent on the hood of his truck. There was no dent, he was just high.

• He forced my mom to rent a big house with a pool and a loft. He let me have the loft which just so happened to not have a door.

• I was not allowed to cry at my father's funeral.

I do not blame my mom for how she acts, but I cannot be around her if all she does is make everything my fault. I hope that she gets better, but I can't fix her. She needs to deal with this in her own way. 3 years of trying to help her didn't do much good.

In conclusion, I am writing this as the official start of mIy new life. No longer will I hold this secret and no longer will I be made to feel like human garbage when I tell people about it. Getting beaten does not make me a bad person nor does having feelings about it. I am finally willing to accept that none of this is my fault and from now on I shall be open about it so that others can know the signs. I refuse to let people be scared and alone like I was. And to think of how much pain could be avoided if we just specified what qualifies as abuse. Hopefully, this will be the last message that I make of this nature.

On a positive note, I would like to mention that I still have a great family and even in those tough times, I always had a roof over my head and never went to bed hungry. It was still a better life than a lot of people have. Also, I do not remember most of it, since my mind blocked it out.

Now, here I am. Living with my grandmother back in my old town. I moved in here when my grandfather passed away about 5 months ago from lung cancer. My mother loves to make a mountain out of a mole hill in order to get a rise out of my grandmother. It's always my fault. No matter what, it's always my fault. I've opened up to the rest of my family and everyone else is really kind and supportive. It's just that the 2 people who currently have the biggest impact on my life are also the 2 most detrimental forces in it. I guess that my question is: Should I hope for happiness? Do I deserve all of this or is it maybe just a test? I feel so alone and just need someone to talk to. Am I worthy of love? Every time someone asks me to do something, I drop what I'm doing to help them. I try not to complain and seemingly live only to please... and mooch. I am going to get a job soon and have my whole life ahead of me but, for the time being, I'm alone. I would love acceptance and understanding, but it's hard to tell people all of this without feeling like an attention seeker.