Personal stuff about my abuse and the impact



Throughout our childhood we had to deal with abuse along with being crammed into dense crowds called schools for years.

Life always seemed to be going so fast, everything I did, was calculated on how my dad would react. No matter if it was unpopular with my peers, pleasing my father was the most important thing in the world.

My life depended on it. He would beat me until he got to tired wielding that specially made paddle. I feared he would kill me one day.

My childhood is a blur to me, but one image explains the situation. Once a week we would have Lima beans for dinner. I could not eat them, every Thursday I puked those Lima beans, then my dad beat me.

I think this was to let me know, he did not need a reason to hurt me.

My dad’s desires became my desires as a survival strategy. Both my parents told me what I was going to be, a professional baseball player.

Being the first born, that violent, alcohic narcissist could concentrate all his focus on me. He was 17 when I was born, ending his high school career. My mom was younger.

You could ask me at 68, what I wanted to be and no answer arrives.

My father occupied my life, took over as much as he could control.

My attachments to caregivers was abusive and dysfunctional.

Next, College was overwhelming, I did not know how to live without that tyrant in the house. Unfortunately, his abused lived inside me for decades.

I was like an animal held in a cage for years, then liberated from the physical containment but haunted by the emotional prison.

My first attachment to a girl, ended with her drunk one night, used by a group at a fraternity house.

At 19, naive, confused and vulnerable, this event changed my life. It became a public event when the guys were bragging about this on that tiny campus.

Trust never again would be unconditional.

The rest of my life, when a girlfriend or a wife would go out at night, my nervous system would fire and that hopeless, helpless feeling would bring suffering.

The need to protect myself prevented me from trust at a certain level.

Love is something I felt once, in college until it was destroyed in a humiliating way.



10 responses to this post.

  1. I have learned to forgive myself for shortcomings related to my PTSD

    This was not always the case.

    My dad demanded perfection.

    As coach he told me I needed to be twice as good as everyone else so no one would ever question him

    You see dad was about being pleased, had no empathy or concern for my wellbeing except how it impacted my performance

    Life has happiness but it has things I need to handle everyday

    It is not an easy life, but thinking life should be easy is our first mistake

  2. Thank you for sharing here and on my psychology blog. So many triggers during this time. I see it as movement too. Which of course is hard to see “in the in between”. So let me be a witness to your healing. You are the caterpillar feeling trapped. And I can see your wings.

  3. Thanks for
    Your insight

    A momentary
    Bump in the road

  4. Posted by E on July 6, 2020 at 6:00 am

    Marty, I’m so sorry for the hell you’ve endured. Thanks for sharing with such brutal honesty. Sadly, our modern definition and understanding of child abuse is less than 50 years old. As a society we need to do better for future generations. Sending healing your way.

  5. Thank you

    I always know others have had to endure more than me

    It is not easy for me to share things

  6. You have a wonderful blog

    One of the best trauma blogs I have come across

    You try to help others heal

    A kindred spirit

    Good work

  7. Posted by E on July 6, 2020 at 2:04 pm

    Thank you kindly🙏🏼

  8. Posted by E on July 6, 2020 at 2:08 pm

    All of our pain, love and courage count equally.

  9. Posted by Anonymous on July 6, 2020 at 9:50 pm

    May we all find that same courage to share and heal. Thank you.

  10. Not easy to navigate

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