working through past abuse

I don't know if this is helpful or not, but according to a website for adults who endured childhood abuse it will.  So I was writing last night, think I got to age 3 maybe where I was tired of having my picture taken, I was being taken to "church" in a little cinder block building where a group of old ladies and a few men would come and my father was the "preacher".  They did the whole pentecostal thing of "shouting" jumping up and down up and down up and down in place, or moving around as they did it, with thier eyes shut, sometimes crying, talking in tongues and falling over on the ground, and the ladies in dresses, would have other ladies lay a coat over thier legs.  My dad would "lay hands on them" and they would either fall out or start jumping up and down in place with thier eyes shut.  When I would ask my mom why they were acting like that she would say because they were "happy" but they seemed like the saddest people I had ever met.  Very poor people, mostly single old ladies with children who were in prison, or on the streets or on drugs.  I noted in my book how my mother beat almost every time we had church, she would drag me back and beat me till I was screaming and crying because I was not sitting still and listening to my father, ( I was 3 years old for fuck sake)  I couldn't even draw. I wasn't paying attention to church.  She whipped me with "switches" which was long limber peices of trees or bushes that is to large to be a twig, and to small to be a branch.  And she left plenty of marks all over me, except below the knee.  I had to wear shorts cut off at my knees, supposedly because that was what decent people do, but in reality in my opinion it was to hide all the bruises and marks left on me by my mother during those years.  None of the other children in my school wore thier shorts that long, none of them.  We were also very poor so the teachers did not give a damn about me either, they didn't care about poor students back then, back in the early 70's.  I was sent to school, kindergarten the day I turned 4 and I was the shortest child there, but I was stout and not real socially experienced.  I split two other children's heads open and they had to have stitches. My mother was never told about either of those children.  I got a paddling the first day I went to school because the teacher said to get in line for the water fountian and I was waving my arms pretending to be an airplane. so I was paddled.  I wasn't even allowed to play in the same play groups as the wealthier children, and that was before I split those other two kids heads open. 
At home I had many toys, and my favorite game to play was school or church, and I would beat the dolls for not sitting still, for not being quiet, for not behaving.  I would beat them with paddles, with switches, I would smash thier bodies into the wall a viciously as I could.  My mom, realizing that I was doing this because of what she was doing to me, and who was probably worried that someone else was going to pick up on it, scolded me and threatened to remove my dolls from me if I did not stop, but I kept doing it anyway, didn't care if she was going to or not, I was driven by something crazy to beat on those dolls with all the anger I could muster.   When I realized some women wore make up I would use my colored chalk on my face like make up, and my mom would "shame" me and say I looked like a whore, but i didn't care and I kept doing it anyway.