I am a victim and survivor of domestic violence from home. Growing up, I’ve always had an abusive father. He was violent towards my mother, sometimes towards me, but mostly above all he was verbally and emotionally abusive towards everyone in thefamily. I have deep scars from his verbal attacks, at times physical abuse, neglect, and witnessing the horrific and harrowing ordeal he would put my mother through. He would yell at her, scream at her, be in fits of rage, threaten, and terrorize. He called my mother an SOB in Mandarin Chinese repeatedly throughout the years, saying she was stupid,that she was good for nothing, and she let people walk all over her. No wonder, since he put her down so much that she wasn’t strong to stand for herself.
To me, he was always critical, always disapproving. He would yell at me and call me stupid for not learning things fast enough or getting things right the first time. It was terrifying. He always belittled.
One of my earliest memories is of my parents fighting. My dad was angry at my mom for buying a necklace which he said was too expensive. Even then I remember–at maybe 4 years old?–going into a state of shock and kind of “freezing” on the inside. Little did I know that would become routine and my permanent state of functioning for the next 20+ years of my life.
My dad has always been an angry person. I think it’s from his upbringing. His mother died of cancer when he was very young and his father remarried another woman. He hated and resented this new woman with all his heart and soul–and it destroyed him.
The thing is that although most of the violence and abuse was directed at my mother, I suffered just as much–if not more–than she did. I know this now because of the frequent amount of flashbacks I have of my father yelling at me. He is saying I’m an SOB, that I’m lying or that I’m not saying the real truth, that I’m full of baloney. I stopped believing in myself. I stopped trusting myself. The scars run plenty deep.
My father has been called out on many times. He’s served nights in jail when my mother called the police on him reporting the domestic violence. Another vivid memory I have is one night after a few very intense days of fighting, avoiding each other, and general tense frigid atmosphere at home, my mother called my sister and me out of bed in the middle of the night and hurried us into the minivan. She wanted to flee from my dad because she was scared for her life–and ours. My dad noticed us pulling out of the driveway and immediately followed us in another car. My mom saw him chasing us a few streets away from our house, panicked, crashed into the sidewalk and got a flat tire. My dad came out of his car screaming and furious of course. After we went to a friend’s house because my mom didn’t trust going back home with just him alone. At the friend’s house, the husband tried to call my father down and talk some sense into him, but angry people are usually stubborn, and my dad is as stubborn as it gets. This was all at 3am or 4am. So this is the kind of ordeals I’ve lived through my entire childhood. My whole time growing up it was like this, and I am just beginning to acknowledge it and speak out.
Usually the fights would spring up around money, or power and control over the house. It would always be on an off, over the years. When there wasn’t an actual fight, the tension in air around the house was still enough to make me dreadfully nervous and fearful.
Basically, now I have depression and anxiety and still feel really hurt. Please help me see the light and the beauty of life once again.
Thank you for giving me the chance to be brave. It hurts and it’s scary divulging all this information, but it helps as well. It heals.
It also helps bringing these memories up to my consciousness. I have been repressing them for so long and I don’t want to do it anymore. It’s too painful, and little by little, I want to be emotionally healthy and balanced. It sheds a little light into what used to be a black hole in my life, so thank you.