I read everything here. and I'm just fucking speechless. .... momentarily.

My abuse seems small compared to some of you.

@Breaking.. Please tell your cousins everything in as much graphic detail as you can manage. 'High Regard' Ptah I speeeeet on him. Grrrrrrrrrrr. (on your behalf).

@SMRK just......gasp.......OMG. Is your sister MAD?
I am sure my aunt and father were both abused by Grandad, yet they let him get to me. What is this numb-brained b.s.?

@ Banshee .... you wouldn't feel like that if you ever saw my dark history. Some of the awful voilent acting out I've done. You are as good as the best and worst of us all.


@ Loum your mother was a weak woman, but you are a strength to us with your words. "Looking for healthy ways..... " I'm going to try and make that a mantra.

I do see the humor...but let me say this. I have been sitting and reading all of these posts. Several times now. And each time I get some thing new from them. I come to some kind of realization. , some thing will click that I hadn't thought of when I first wrote these words.
I am not only angry. I am really pissed off. How did the abusive people in my life, just not f.... get the damage they were causing.
One time I slapped my 3yr. old son on the face. I so totally freeked out that I personally called child protection services, told them what I did and begged them to help me. Because I realized right that moment...that at some point in my mothers life she hit me for the first time. And no one stopped her. So she just kept hitting me. And no one stopped her. And I did not want to be my mother. I went to parenting classes and they taught me how to be patient and to walk away or put distance and time between my self and my child. I never hit him again.
Why in an an abuser's mind does the thing that is supposed to scream this is not a good thing to be doing. Just stop working. It is a chemical thing. A bloked nerve sensation. Is it a learned thing. Is it lack of conciousness. What made my mom not look at my little face and my big brown eyes and long blonde hair and NOT say to her self. This is my baby girl. I have to protect her from all the evils in the world. Oh wait a minute she was all the evils in the world. And it was okay for her to do what she did. Is that what her brain was telling her. This is okay, this is cool. My brain that day with my son. Screamed what the F... are you doing. Stop this, stop it now....You can not hit your child!
Man so much of this is spilling out of me. And knowing that abuse is wrong and should never happen. I sat myself right down in place and allowed my husband to torture me for 5 years. What the f.... is wrong with me.............

SMRK - I admire you reaching out for help when you were worried about your son. I have had those moments in the middle of the night when my kids just won't sleep and I want scream and hit. There is a darkness inside of me I don't understand and it scares me. But just like you, I look at their beautiful faces and know that I will do anything I have to do so that they are not harmed...by anyone, let alone me. So I keep myself together.

I think, at least with my abuser and family of enablers, that the reason they don't stop and think, "hey, this is wrong and I should stop" is because they are cowards. They can't face their own pain and demons, whether from being abused themselves or something else. They do anything and everything they can to avoid dealing with it - from substance abuse to denial to complete insanity. Eventually, I think their avoidance makes permanent tracks in their brains, preventing them from seeing things accurately.

As all of us know - looking at the pain and feeling it is torture. Not one of us WANTS to deal with this, but we don't want the wrong to win either. Our abusers are cowards who will knowingly and unknowingly sacrifice innocent children because of their refusal to do the hard work of healing their own wounds. After a while, I think they are unable to even see the reality of it all. Their protective glasses keep them insulated from the reality of what they have done and what they have allowed. This last part is the part I don't forgive. At some point, we all have a moment where we choose the kind of human being we want to be. We make mistakes and then try to change for the better. My father (and my mother) has made the choice to be selfish and cruel over and over again...and I don't forgive that.

Dark histories and painful regrets are nothing compared to the deep void of humanity that swallows such cowards.

I will admit that I would NOT actually be the "cause" of their demise but it is that inner anger that bubbles up and lets me drift into the feel good thoughts of watching them suffer. I spent my entire life being the "better" person and not one person expected anything less of me. It was suffocating.

Yes, SMRK- I find that the more I share I see the anger and really just pure rage deep within. My anger fuels me to never be subjected to anyone's abuse again. I will never be silenced.

I am grateful for you all and sharing as difficult as it can be.

SMRK- I am really proud of you for how you handled the situation with your son and realizing you needed help. That takes courage to step outside ourselves and say I need this to never happen again. I love my son and the abuse ends with me!!!! Good for you for recognizing what could have become a pattern. (((hugs)))

This journey we are on sure doesn't come with a handbook. Neither did how to survive our abusive lives.

I tend to sit on many of my emotions.
Peace friends and I do appreciate you all sharing which helps me do the same.

I have something else I want to share, something that I was going avoid writing. But for the moment I am going to be brave and pay for it later.
There were a lot of aspects to my abuse that had more of an effect then others in the way of hanging on.
This is one of the things that has f..... with my head all along. Some thing I have not been able to come to terms with. And I hope by sharing some thing so personal. It will help others to feel a little more ok about opening up and talking about thier pain.
My father had a nick name for me. He called me Sissy. And my " special time" with him was what he called our play time. I knew when he said to me "It's play time Sissy" that I would end up being hurt. So needless to say play time terrified me.
When I was 6 years old. I was playing in the yard and my dad came out and yelled for me and said it was playtime. I can almost right this moment feel the feelings that I felt thru-out my whole body when I heard those words. As if he just said them.
I remember slowly walking towards him and my little brain was screaming NO. He took me by the hand and started back to the house and I stopped and he looked down at me and said whats wrong Sissy. I said to him please I don't want to go and have playtime today. And he stooped down to my height and said to me. I'll tell you what if you don't want to have playtime with me. Thats ok. But you have to go and get one of your little girlfriends and they will have to come and play instead of you.
I walked across the street and I went to my little friend Patty. And I said do you want to come to my house and have playtime. ( having no idea at 6 that she didn't know what playtime meant.) She said yes. I walked back with her holding her hand the whole way. And she came into the house and my dad said to me go out side and play. As I walked towards the door. I looked back at her. Annd the look in her eyes was simpley...your not going with us? I went out and played.
When she left that day. She never said anything to me.
Her parents never said anything to my dad that I am aware of. She either didn't tell them or they didn't believe her.
Now I know that I was only 6 years old. And it didn't really dawn on me until I was in my early teens. Exactly what must have happened in her little head that day. And it makes me sick to think that she is out there some where and to this day is still suffering the emotional effects of her playtime. He had me deliver a victim to him and I did it.
It is time for me to find a therapist.

((((((((((huge hug))))))))))))

SMRK That was indeed a brave 'confession'. Your father not only did the worst thing imaginable to you - The bastard made you PIMP for him.

That's the sickest man on the Earth. I wish I could get my hands on him. I'd show him efffin playtime!

I am outraged.

Yes get a therapist. Baileygirl has found some excellent help. Someone who taught her to be her own therapist. Amazing.

Thanks for trusting us enough to share such a deep wound.

Please first realize that you were in a survival mode and with no real understanding about what would happen. You wanted it to stop. 6 years old and in a horrible situation.

I am glad you shared and I hope that it helps being here. Abuse steps so far outside the actual physical aspects and reaches deep within and does things to our minds. We want it all to end and we want relief. We just want to survive. I'm so sorry.

When one diasociates, you go on auto-pilot. The disconnect is what keeps us alive and able to go throughthe day to day.

It all is on your dad- he did this and try to be kind to yourself. My goodness you were only 6. (((hugs)))

Your father was a dispicable piece of s--t. Talk about total betrayal.
(((Hugs)))

Thats it, I officially want to break you dads fucking legs. What a fucking piece of shit, I hope she dies a slow horrible death. I hate your father, and Im so sorry you have to carry around those memories. Nobody should have gone through that, and for you to still be standing....wow. You are a very strong person, and Im proud of you for still standing.

I second Tyler. Except that breaking your dad's legs is too good for him. How horrible that you have had to carry this around with you. You must feel/have felt so complicit in his deception, perversion and abuse. But the fault is all all all your fathers. May he rot - slowly and painfully - in hell.

Going back to the original post, if the enabler reveals that you are a pawn, where do you go from there?

Most seem, to claim they didn't know, or didn't know what to do or couldn't csupport the family.

That had to be tuff to know they were both evil.

Talking about all of this and dealing with grief has caused me to feel some weird sort of numbness. Like I my self am dislocating from my feelings. The thoughts keep rushing in. But my feelings about things seem to be stuck in some kind of limbo.
Just so you will know. My dad is dead and has been for 10 years. And all I can think about that is he can no longer hurt any.
Something alse I was thinking about as I read a few more of these posts. My Mom and my Dad were both abusers. But when my dad was gone. My Mom then allowed my older brothers and sister to Disapline me. So at any given time there were 4 people who at wil could toss me around. I had two baby sisters. One who was shy and quiet and introverted and I really don't think my mom even knew she was there. Then the Baby of the family. She was loud and fun and she was always on the move. My mom didn't like her from day one. And it always mistified me. That even though she was 4,5 or 6 years olds. My mom talked to her and treated her like she was another grown women. And she expected her to respond like one
I would try to protect my baby sis. When ever my mom would go after her. I would try to come between them. I would beg my mom not to hurt her and my mom would start hitting me. For having the audasity to stand up to her. She sent my sister out one time to get a switch off of the pine tree. I pled with her the whole time to please not hit her with that. She said fine. You can take her punishment. I did. She hit me across the back of my legs no less then 10 times. I screamed and begged for her to stop. My legs were cut and bleeding. But the whole time she hitting me, my baby sis was hitting her. Lesson learned.
My baby sis went on to start drinking when she was 10. And by the time she hit jr high. She was smoking pot and snorting coke. she is now late forties and she has been high every single since then. She has beaten and abused her own children. Sometime the cycle doesn't stop. Everyone of my sibling turned out to be abusers. So why didn't I. What is about me that kept me from passing it on. I'm no body special. I have no unique abilities.
The only time in the 47 years I got spend with my mom on the planet before she died. The only time she ever told me she loved me. Was when I sixteen. She was anger at something I did. She sent my older sister to come and get me. When I got home there was an arguement about why I was in trouble. She my mom turned to my sister and said get her. My sister beat me until I was vomiting and bleeding from my mouth and was missing half of my hair. I had defensive wounds up and down my arms and shinners on both eyes. And I never hit that bitch back once. When my mom saw the results, she sat down next to me and put her arm around my shoulder. She said I am so sorry. I should not have let her do that. I do want you to know that I do love you. I stood up and looked her right in the eyes and said Don't you ever say that to me again. You do not love me, you do not know hwo to love me. And she slapped me.I put my finger in her face and said from this day on Not you or any one else ..will ever, ever, ever hit me again.

My father wanted me to be like him, but I wouldn't. I vowed to myself when I was very young that I would never be anything like him. That made him abuse me more. I was an only child. Wow I'm actually feeling angry about it.

You are someone special - incredibly special. I do know what you mean about wondering why you turned out different. I am the same way and it seems so confusing that I would be different. But aside from the obvious differences like gender, birth order, personalities... I think we all make choices. Every day is a new opportunity to make a better choice. You are special because you made the most of your choices and because of that you have been able to rise above. You are strong and smart and kind - in spite of what they all did to you. You are special.

They, on the other hand, are so horrible that I cannot find the words.

My unofficial life motto? "Don't be dad."

I try to use him as a negative role model...as he's useless for anything else anyway.

My anger diminished towards him when he was stabbed 17 times while being robbed...and surprised everyone by actually living.
Hmm...karma.

Now I don't fantasize about killing him daily, and as long as he stays away from me, I can avoid being overtaken by the urge to gut him like a stuck pig.

Since I pulled a10-inch boning knife on him last time he showed up, I think we've come to a clear understanding on that.