I've noticed one common thread while looking over many of the posts and trying to figure out where to begin, and that is for most, that is the big question....."Where do I begin"? The abuse is always many faceted and difficult to tell just what part of it did the real damage or is it the total of all the parts; each destroying their own part of you; that makes it the nightmare it is. I thought I was going to be outside the box, having lived through physical, verbal, emotional and sexual abuse, but it seems they are all linked. My first memories start at 4 years old and living with my grandparents. They, were good to me.....My parents did not want me (they both drank hevily and drugs as well) because of a deformity at birth (genital area). At the time I had no Idea I was any different than anyone else, other than I lived with my Grandparents and my brother lived with my Mom. My mom divorced and living with a new alcoholic, needed a good excuse to get out once in a while and that is when I started seeing a lot of her when she would pick me up saying she was taking me out shopping with her, drop me off at a babysitter and go on her way. Sad for me that my grandparents taught me to tell the truth and so when her new BF would question me, her cover was blown. Their arguments were followed by me being bitten all over or beaten with a whiskey bottle or her BF's huge strap, if I wouldn't tell him what he wanted to know. I remember clearly one beating that took place in her car with an empty whiskey bottle she had just finished and at the time wishing I could just pass through the door like Casper the ghost. At some point the babysitter wanted nothing to do with being in the middle and so she had to bring me along with her by her friends (two women). They had a huge dog.....I was told it did not like children and would bite me if I left the couch and they would go off into the bedroom for hours and too often not being able to use the bathroom while they were in the bedroom, I wet the couch. More beatings. I won't presume what was going on in there, other than to say that I remember hearing that her two friends were Lesbians and I guess that is the problem her BF had with them. My mothers name for me was satan and she let me know often that it was because of me, she was going to hell. Her son (my brother and 5 years older than me) was the apple of her eye and she let me know often how much more she loved him and how he was a help while I was a burden. and when she found reason to be angry with me, it was either a broomstick or his fists that would dish out the punishment....Once so bad, I couldn't leave the house for almost 2 weeks. At about 5 years old, my cousin (also a female and 6 years older than me) came to live with my grandparents as well. Another screwed up family and so she and I bonded quickly. The physical abuse quieted down since I was always with her, except for beatings if I spilled my milk at the table (sunday lunch was the only time I was allowed with my mom and her BF) and once even was stripped naked and put outside for all my friends to laugh at; as they would pass by; as a punishment. Somewhere near 6 years old, my cousin was approaching puberty and threatened me into helping her masterbate frequantly adding a whole new layer of drama to my life and though I won't minimize that, I think the real damage was to my sexuality, later in life. She moved out when I was seven and I had a couple more years with my grandparents, before my Grandma passed away. From that point on, my mother let me know it was my fault that my Grandma had died and how it should have been me instead. My mom became pregnant again( I was 10) and it was now my job to keep house, cook, laundry, and care for my Grandfather. Ohhh yes and study and get good grades too. This was more task than I could handle and so the beatings came back and once again using my older brother as the enforcer. I can still see it in my mind as though it was yesterday as she stood over the two of us urgeing him on until I was black and blue. She had her baby ( a little brother to me) and another responsibility to add to what I already could not handle. She and the BF split and soon entered 2 more drunk friends she had living in a small house at the back of our property who used to enter through the bathroom window so my grandfather would not know they were there. I suppose they figured I was theirs too, but I was older and fighting back and left some marks on them. Once again in trouble for messing up her arraingement with them. She was getting to understand that I would'nt take the physical abuse anymore and the emotional and verbal abuse escalated. I had one mindset and that was to get away. I tried at 16 to run but was brought back by the police, who didn't give a damn about why I left and over the course of the next few years she worked on destroying what little self esteem I had left. I didn't date, I was too much of a headcase by then with too much drama as baggage. Finally getting free, I married my worst nightmares and all 3 marriages were doomed from the start. I was an easy target for losers, since I responded to anyone who would treat me nice (at first) and finally met the love of my life and best friend, who recently passed away which seems like the straw that finally broke my back. In the meanwhile, I tried to keep some form of relationship with her, knowing I had to forgive. It lasted until I had a daughter I adopted (could not have my own) and she began referring to her as someone else's sh*t and tried to beat her. That, was it, for me. I sheltered my daughter, from most of it and the end result is my daughter turning against me, because I would not go to my mothers funeral. Not her fault, she had no idea what this woman did or was capable of. But the damage, she's done seems to continue piling up even from her grave. If i were to add in what she's done to others in the family, I would have a book. Sadly, as much as I forgave, it did shape my life and still gives me nightmares.... The last one, last night. I don't know what a 4 year old could ever do to be hated so much..... something she took to her grave without ever as much as an I'm sorry or even acknowledging it ever happened, which for a while made me think I was crazy. My daughter may hate me, but thank God she never had to live that hell. Sorry for going on so long........Like I said....it's never uncomplicated. Thank you for listening to those who were nice enough to read through.