MastersX99 is a male. (via TwoXChromosomes)

Source: MastersX99 in TwoXChromosomes

Hmm strange notification today u/shade_of_graye

I can't comment from a bystander role nor from a relationship based on romance however I can comment from a victims perspective of abuse from a mother but first I need to lay down a few points

1. I am a male, was born one still am one.
2. The abuse I'm about to relay is something I still struggle to come too terms with even today. It's almost been 2 years since I got out of the situation and am still waking up from nightmares of the time.
3. Despite the differences in the situations I will relay the things I wish had and hadn't been done for me throughout the issue.

Also a side note for graye, you know the whole "there's still parts of my past I don't like talking about too much" that's the stuff I'm about to talk about.

I grew up in what I thought was a perfectly normal home. A mother who wanted to sit in the living room and would ignore me for hours at a time. I thought it was normal and would happily sit in my room. Of course if I was too loud (if any sound moved past my door) then she would come up and grab anything I was using/playing with/reading. Hit me with it and then would throw it in the bin (garbage/trash incase you didn't know we bits call it a bin.) Imma skip a couple of years forward. 6 year old me is exploring outside in the front garden for the first time ever. I find an awesome pebble. Pure black with lines of an orange red colour (I still have the rock and having it pelted off my head kinda imprints an image of it in your head... but we are coming too that) I decide I Andrew going to collect rocks and run upstairs and place the rock on my bedside drawer. I go back outside and see my dad pull into the street. Now an important note is that my mum and dad have never been together during my lifetime. I have been told by both that I was in fact an accident however it was me asking my dad to find out the truth that made him reveal that. Anyway. I see him pull into the street it is a Wednesday so he has come over too visit me and to spend time sitting reading together.

I walk back in the house with my dad and hear clattering and banging and shouting in my room. I walk with my dad to the living room and nd I realise with horror that my mum must be upstairs of course that's the moment she screams my name and demands I come up the stairs. I walk to the bottom of the stairs and begin climbing. Next thing I know I andndm Ian agony as a rock has bounced off my small 6 year old forehead cutting into my forehead above my right eye and damaging the socket. I fall back down the stairs and hit my head on the table by the door. My dad rushes over and I black out all I remember after that is my dad and mum screaming at each other.

That was one example from when I was a 6 year old. When I was 7 I came downstairs asking for a drink of water because I hadn't been given one for more than a day. My mother looks at me and laughs then ignores me again. I am in pain my throat is dry and talking hurts. I have a pain deep in my stomach which I have later learned was from dehydration. I burst into tears and am ridiculed not only by my mother but by her "friends" each of which is laughing at the "big baby" I ran upstairs and cried until there weren't tears left too give. I ended up having to sneak downstairs in my own house to try and get a drink of water. I was too scared to run the tap for long so only got a little bit though.

Another example happened in my final year of primary school. It was a few days after my birthday school was ending and my mother has the car idling outside the school gates me and my sister get in the car instead of driving home to be able to have a normal day of hiding in my room and staying silent though I instead find a moving lorry. My mum's husband sat waiting all our things are in the truck. We hadn't been warned that we were moving or that we had been packed whilst are school. Instead my mum told my father the day of us moving that I now lived in Scotland and that he wasn't allowed too see me. My elder siblings all lived out and into my dad's house years prior and 11 year old me so wished he had the courage to follow their lead. Unfortunately he was now sat in the lorry with the stepfather who not only was a drunkard but also was abusive to myself and my mother (you'd think it would stop her abusing us kids but nope) and had no way to stop the move.

After a long fight with my mother my father and I managed to st least get contact however any time I did something she like she would now remove all my contact and often would lock me in the small room that I has as a bedroom. She would no longer try and hit me as I had snapped back and hit her back. The seeds of violence planted in my mind by her treatment beginning to grow and flower. We moved multiple times after this and the abuse continued until finally I had enough. Her husband attempted to grab me and yank me off a couch I was sat on. Instead I kicked him in the face and then aimed for his inner leg. My mum attempted to spin the situation two fold. First moving us from him under the guide of "stopping me from being hurt" but also telling others that I was a "violent child that deserved to be locked up" I was violent I will admit that if people did things I didn't like I would hurt them and feel no remorse. However I did eventually get out of the situation.

I was at admit nd stage where I was running away from home most nights if I even went back at all. The police found me one night. Cold wet and laid in the snow. My legs having given out from under me after a 12 mile trek. I was determined to never go home. I still had bruised on my body from the self harm. I had a panic attack as I saw them driving towards my house having checked my past and found a history of running away. I begged. Pleaded even broke down and cried to please not make me go back there. The police didn't listen instead they knocked. Woke my family up and then when asking my mother why I was running away they believed her story of "moody teenagers" they ignored all my fear and panic the bruised arms and legs. They sided with her because of my age. Then the next day the new maths teacher away few that I couldn't concentrate. Nothing new I had net been able to focus for over a year. But he was new he didn't know. He told me to start working or I'd be on detention and that was it. I snapped I stood up and threw my book at him. In that book were accounts of the mental state I was in. He didn't get chance to read them as I screamed about how I was sick of all of it the lack of care from everyone and how little respect anyone gave people anymore then my long sleeve shirt dropped a bit and he saw the lines of blood on my neck from my nails. The bruises on my arms now revealed. The obvious tears leaking out of my stupid traitorous eyes. He dragged me out of the room before I had time to run. Straight out the class room where he did the only thing he could. He stood and waited not knowing how I would react. Then I did the one thing I know he wasn't expecting. I dropped. Curled up shaking. Crying my nails trying to claw out those stupid eyes that caused me so much trouble. Why couldn't I be stronger and not give so much pain away through them why couldn't I just be stronger. He sat next too me. Not touching me. I loved him for that. Toughie me reminded me too much of my mother's abuse. It reminded me of all the hate I'd faced from people I trusted. He didn't know any of my story but still he sat and waited. My head now hitting against the floor he placed his jacket there to stop me from hurting myself. Then he stood up and started talking. Not too me but to my house head.

She took me out of class and made me tell the whole story of the past year. She didn't know most of the story only the running away. The fear of home. And the obvious pain it was in. She called my dad. He a was I'm work but he knew the schools number. Picked up and was told my situation. 3 weeks later I was in his car softly crying as it left everything I'd know behind. The friends I'd made the mother I hated. The life I despised. I was finally free.

But I'm jot I still have too visit her. Because if I don't then I know my sister will take her own life. Because unlike me she can't have the same support I had. Her father doesnt care. Her school doesn't know he exists. My mother learned her lesson about letting schools know there was a living father.

So i have to go there. To act as a shield every now and then. Too try and show my mum that we are better off without her now.

I wish the police had realised my pain. I wish the school had stepped in sooner I wish I was truly free.

But I also wish I'd been stronger. Able to fix it on my own. I say this so people know that whilst help is needed it will likely be rejected or will make the person feel just as inadequate as you would feel if you didn't help. That said sometimes you have to force your way through and fight to make the victim realise that you are offering help so that they survive. So that they live. So that they art kept in in a constant pain at all times.

I was told that and that's the reason I accepted the help. I realised it was my chance. Just like 11 year old me had wanted I finally had a way out...

Things I wish went done? Easy I wish my mother wasnt abusive. I wish the police believed the teenagers who suffer. I wish that I hadn't been Brough up by society telling me that victims deserve it or that they have to fight their way out. I wish I hadn't been forced to burn all my bridges to escape.

Submitted November 08, 2018 at 03:14PM by asamale https://ift.tt/2qzYNmJ