They look like great, loving parents from the outside. But my mother lives in denial that anything happened to me. She does not take me seriously, she does not understand me by any means. My father cheated on her 3 times, and she still stayed with him. My father physically, verbally, and emotionally abused me, my brother, my step sister, and even my mentally disabled step brother as well, my whole childhood, and she still stayed with him. She didn’t take us seriously; she never did. I don’t think she ever will. And that it what irks me to this day.

We grew up living in fear and being tormented by my father. I would see him choking my sister and beating her with the belt. I still remember her screams. And I couldn’t speak up. I never could say anything. I was told, “you have to tell them (child services) he doesn’t do anything to you, and only hits you to show you ‘responsibility’”. What the fuck? You think that a child just forgets what they went through and what you said because they’re young and impressionable? You think that’s a healthy way to raise the children you claim to love?

I’m so tired. I’m so tired of having to keep quiet for what was done to me, even if I am 20 now. This shit still affects me. I have a fucking mental illness, and I can’t even say anything about it. My mother couldn’t even understand me being depressed because “I have a roof over my head and live a good life”. How can I possibly tell her that I am mentally ill because of what happened to me? That I didn’t “grow up” properly because of what they both did to me. The abuser and the watcher. They wouldn’t believe me or understand this suffering.

My dad apologized for how abusive and violent he was last year, and through that confrontation, I thought I could move on and heal. Come to realize this year that I am actually mentally ill because of what I went through as a child. That his abuse and the way I coped with it as a child fucked me up so bad, that I have some serious issues at 20 years.

I’m the problem. I will always be the problem now because it’s present time. The abuse I went through doesn’t matter and it couldn’t possibly! affect my development. No way! 

I’m so sad man. I’m so sad I can’t get justice. My justice is them accepting what they did to me was wrong, them acknowledging that they did this to me and my siblings, them making an effort to understand me. But no.