Dad and Mum, the Monsters

What was your first memory?

Dad taking the covers down in the middle of the night with Mum by his side. Their hands and mouths on me. They were the monsters of the night. There was no night light or lock on my door.

Then, what was your second memory?

Oh, please don’t hurt me again.


So, as one looks back as an adult at the severity of the sexual, physical and mental abuse of their domestic paradise as a child, you wonder if you made it all up.

It is too strange not to be made up. I’m crazy, so I must have made it up. Could it be real? Was that me?

Saving grace = siblings. IT WAS NOT MADE UP. It happened to them, too. As much as is endurable, I ask them about THINGS. They say yes and more I did not want to hear.

We moved and moved and moved. I went to 14 schools, sometimes 3 a year. We ran and ran and ran. The Monsters never got caught…….NEVER.

I want to put this down in some sort of chronological order but the chemistry of my brain changed because of the abuse and toxic stress. IT twisted the nerves of flight or fight. The wires crossed; the chemicals cooked; the brain froze. So the beginning is the middle and the end is never and so it will be pieces. I am pieces, still – much closer to whole than ever before but I believe I will always be broken pieces.

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