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Growing up, I was raised on the farm. We lived on a lot of acreage . On this, in walking distance, my granparents, then my up the road was my dad's oldest brother and his wife, and then down the road was my grandparents, and then down further was my dad's twin brother. My sister and I were the only kids, which my dad always said we were suppose to be boys. He said this the whole time growing up jokingly, but sometimes I wonder if it was a joke.
We worked our asses off, on each family members farm. I am not talking like a little garden. I mean like an acre garden on each property. Then you had the hay fields and tobacco fields. Yes they would hire some teenage boys to help and pay them but we were to work side by side and just as hard but no pay. I won't get in to the canning of the vegtables and killing season. That always broke my heart and hated every minute of it.
I was the baby of the family but when I turned 14 and started liking boys, my dad had less to do with me. I went to football game and I had a boyfriend (which was a no no) We were holding pinkies. ( yes pinkies) My mom came up and told him to get his hands off of me and took me home.
She told my dad the next morning. I was able to wear a little make up and hairspray in my hair. You thought I was having sex in front of everyone on the bleachers the way he reacted. He called me a whore, told me I was going to be barefoot and pregnant with a baby on each tit. He took me to my grandmothers, drug me in by my hair asked for a wet rag from her, and then proceeded to scream in my face as he scrubbed what little makeup off of my face and tried to wipe out hairspray. My grandmother had no clue what happened but sat there and laughed.
At 15, Our basketball team went to state and they let the entire school go if you got your permission slip signed. My parents were always too busy now, so they didn't. Hardly anyone was at school. (There was a total of 86 people in my class normally so that should tell you how small my school/town is) I had a boyfriend who was 16, and my bestfriends all had permission to leave to go home or go to the lake. There wasn't any classes, so I went with them. No, I shouldn't have went. I should have called my parents and asked event thought they probably would not have answered. (this is in the 90s) Well by the time I got back before the buses ran, a teacher had already called my dad.
On the mile ride home to my house, he hit me in the side of the face telling me how stupid of a whore and bitch I was and an embarrassment. I didn't want to tell him at this point that my boyfriend was there because I didn't want to go through what I did last time. So I said I went with my sister. At this point it started to rain really hard.
My mom gets home and calls my sister and she was at work, so my dad made me go outside and roll logs up the hill and under the wire fence (we also had a wood stove) Then when I had done enough for his liking, he told me to hug the fence like it was my boyfriend and proceeded to whip me with a belt. I still have the scar on my leg. As he whipped me the names he called me broke my image of my hero, my father, and broke my image of my mother who did nothing. (I didn't have sex, we did kiss and he gave me a hickey but I wouldn't go any further, no groping, nada.) I was grounded for a full year. Yes ONE YEAR.
Everytime he got mad at me he would call me the most hurtful names. As I got older. For some reason I just wanted to make him proud of me. It angers me now that I did things just to make him proud and not for me at that time. It didn't work. There was always he had negative to say that tore me down. When I drove, wanted to go in the medical field, he told me not to because I would mess up and they would lose the farm. Everything I wanted to do they were going to lose the farm.
I second guess everything I do now, Words are my enemy, I shut down in arguments or I really get so angry I want to pull my hair out. I have been diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety and depression.
My now spouse knows about how words and certain things like that trigger my depression or my fight or flight mode. He does it anyway. Every argument I get called a bitch, whore, I don't do anything, always something that he knows that is going to hurt me the most. Then the next day acts like nothing happened while I am still in shambles. He tells me that I should just get over it. Then makes me feel like I am crazy because I can't let go of the words that he says to me. I can't help it. Because to me I feel after hearing it so many times, its like, is that how you feel, how you see me?
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This sounds like you married someone who is like your dad. The best thing that you can do is to see a therapist so that you get the help you need to get yourself sorted out and to leave this horrible man you are with now. You need to get right out of this situation. A therapist will understand your situation more than I can and will give you the answers that you need. I really do wish you the best.
ReplyThank you so much. I don't really get to talk much at home, because I get cut off constantly, and I don't have anyone to talk to, I lock up at therapy. Thank you again so much.
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