The adage, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” is challenged by this gut-wrenching recount of a childhood gone completely awry.
My mom would hide me under the cellar stairs until my dad went to his second-shift job.
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Editor’s note: This story contains graphic descriptions of child abuse.
What images travel across your mind when you hear the phrase, child abuse? Perhaps, you picture harsh spanking or a cruel backhand. You might envision scared children, doing their best to hide lumps, scratches, welts, and bruises.
Maybe you’ll think back to an acquaintance, friend, or family member—sexually abused by an uncle, teacher, or a corrupt preacher sharing more than his faith. These are all despicable examples of abuse, with which I can sympathize and empathize.
Now, I want to suggest that verbal and emotional forms of abuse can be just as hurtful and leave just as many scars… invisible as they may be.
I consider myself somewhat of an expert, when it comes to abuse. I’m not a doctor or psychologist. I don’t have a degree, in fact, I never even stepped foot inside a high school. Eighth grade was the last grade of school I attended, before my already complicated life started to downward spiral.
My sister, who was seven years older than I was, physically abused me since I was an infant. Michelle would push and shove me, like many older siblings do, but there were always times she took it much farther than that.
Once, she tricked me into putting my finger in the jagged metal teeth of a folding lawn chair. I think I was four or five. She slammed the back down and sawed my finger to the bone. Another time, she lured me beneath an active beehive. From a safe distance, she hurled a rock that resulted in angry bees attacking my face and body.
That experienced earned me a lifetime of buzzing, black and yellow nightmares.
When I was six, my sister began molesting me. This sexual abuse persisted and progressed for a year, and reverberations of those heinous acts complicated my life for decades to follow. By the time I hit puberty, I was abusing myself on a regular basis. This dark coping skill followed me into adulthood and will possibly follow me to the grave.
Clearly, I’ve endured vicious forms of physical punishment and sexual abuse. Perhaps that’s not enough to make me an expert … fair enough. I do think it earns me the right to present a valid opinion. The verbal and emotional abuse inflicted upon me did just as much damage … maybe more, than every other form.
Research shows that children exposed to maternal verbal abuse are three times as likely to develop personality disorders like OCD and Borderline Personality Disorder. Verbal abuse can show itself in a variety of forms, including bullying, defaming, defining, trivializing, harassing, blaming, berating, taunting, threatening, and name-calling. The latter two were my father’s specialty.
“It’s possible he just liked holding the fear over us, like the sharp-angled blade of a guillotine. I don’t commend the man for never hitting me. He might as well have. I’ve become an expert on pain and suffering, and I can say quite adamantly that physical pain and discomfort pale in comparison to mental and emotional anguish.
I think I would have preferred a father who skipped the verbal assaults, and just gave me a good backhand occasionally. The pain would dissipate in minutes as opposed to the never-ending burn of insults and degradation. I suppose abuse is abuse, no matter what form it comes in, and the torture of it is infinite, when it’s at the hands of someone who’s supposed to love you.”
—Excerpt from, Surviving the Fourth Cycle
My father was a frightening man, who abused alcohol, drugs, woman, and his own family. I remember him bursting through the door one night, Budweiser in hand … stumbling. He had a strange woman with him, who he introduced as his new girlfriend. They disappeared into the basement, laughing stupidly and my mom disappeared into her bedroom, crying hysterically.
I did some crying too, that night, left alone with my big sister while our parents busied themselves with flagrant infidelity and emotional turmoil.
My sister scared me and filled me with dread, but my father filled my life with paralyzing terror and a perpetual sense of impending doom. I thought he was going to kill me, and I had a perfectly good reason for believing that.
He told me he was.
I heard horrifying stories about my dad from uncles, grandparents, aunts, and even my mom. This was the monster, who threw a kitten into our living room wall, killing it instantly. This was the psychopath, who cut the arms and legs off a squealing mouse over the bathroom sink! My father told me he wanted to kill me on more than one occasion… sometimes he whispered it.
He had the same threats for my mom too, and her constant expression of her own fears nurtured mine to overwhelming proportions. My imagination added fuel to the fire, and I had nightmares about coming home to bloody murder scenes, and a patiently waiting daddy. I never feared the boogeyman when I was a kid, because there was no room in my life for childish nonsense.
When I heard noises in the middle of the night, I thought daddy was finally coming to get me.
I spent my childhood doing my best to avoid my father. Sometimes I was so anxious and sleep-deprived, going to school was impossible. My mom would hide me under the cellar stairs until my dad went to his second-shift job. She’d say, “There’s no telling what he’ll do if he finds out your home again!”
If I was too sick to go to school, he called me a pussy or a wimp. He called me things like that all the time, and his empty shark-like stare dared me to disagree with him. He had a knack for staring and torturing me with his icy gaze until I inevitably burst into tears. That’s what he seemed to want …
“Told you …you’re a pussy.”
He loved to threaten me by snapping his leather belt between his hands and telling me, “You know what’s coming,” or “It’s almost time to take your medicine like a man!” He never missed an opportunity to scare me either. If my mom reminded me to be careful because the stove was hot, he’d threaten to come in from the other room and sit me on it, so I didn’t need reminding anymore.
He never did any of these things, but the constant threat was a virus in my mind, convincing me my days were numbered.
In retrospect, I was lucky in the sense that my father wasn’t around much. He worked a lot of overtime, went out frequently, and spent a fair amount of time unconscious. Therefore, the sting of his words and the burn of his stare, were not daily occurrences.
In the midst of the turmoil, however, my young mind couldn’t recognize that fact. I lived my life quiet and discreet, trying to avoid the perversions of my sister, the threats of my father, while not bothering my mom with my problems … she had enough of her own, I thought.
My dad didn’t always threaten pain and death when he decided to pay attention to me. Sometimes, he would go through phases where he wanted to make a man out of me. That’s how he put it. This typically involved trying to force me to fight, for his amusement or my humiliation.
In the midst of a childish argument with a friend he might appear, smoking and drinking, demanding I handle my problems with my fists, again… like a man. He would yell and call me names like pansy or mama’s boy. He’d look down at me across the dented red and white beer can he pressed to his lips, punctuating his disgust.
Situations like that always ended in me bursting into tears in front of my friends —friends whose dads played Atari with them at night, and catch with them in the afternoon. Friends, who would no longer be allowed to play with me anymore, after they ran home with tears of their own and another story about Nathan Daniels’ psychotic father.
When I took interest in bodybuilding, martial arts, and wrestling, I decorated my walls with posters of Hulk Hogan and Bruce Lee. My father tore them down and called me a homo and a fag. His words bludgeoned me, as if he were throwing rocks at me instead of insults. I was the daughter he never wanted, he said.
He came up with another plan to make a man out of me, once he decided I was a little homo. He was going to take me to a prostitute, whether I liked it or not he warned, and we weren’t going to leave until she, “Fucked all the gay out of me.”
A vile current of sickening despair surged through my heart when he issued that threat. My sister already forced sex into my life where it didn’t belong and now my dad was promising to do the same. Thankfully, that warped plan of his never came to fruition.
My mother, after eighteen years of enduring her own abuse, finally found the strength to throw him out, get a restraining order, and file for divorce. My father got quite a bit scarier after that, but there’s no room for that story here. I want to stick to the point.
The physical and sexual abuse I survived definitely scarred my body and mind and destroyed decades of my life. However, the verbal emasculation and abuse administered by the man who should have loved me more than anyone, did just as much damage and is proving to be harder to overcome.
I think I got it right, in the excerpt above… abuse is abuse, no matter what form it comes in, and the torture of it is infinite, when it’s at the hands of someone who’s supposed to love you.
If you’re a victim of any form of abuse, or you know someone who might be, please get help immediately. You don’t have to take it, and you’re not alone!
Child Help USA National Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILDS, 24 hours a day, or…
National Domestic Violence/Abuse Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (1-800-799-7233, 1-800-7873224).
Image credit: kissthelava/Flickr
I am saddened and sickened by your story. You poor man, nobody deserves to be treated with so little respect. I hope you hold your head high now because you are an articulate, thoughtful man who did not turn into his father.
There’s an old saying that goes — sticks and stones my break my bones, but words can never hurt me — and that is so wrong. There is physical abuse, and verbal abuse. Physical abuse creates hurts that can be seen. But verbal abuse leaves no bruises or broken bones, but it can have an effect on a person that will last a lifetime.
This article totally chokes me up… I very much could have written it, though obviously with a few small differences. I was emotionally abused every day since I was born, and physically assaulted as well. it’s possible there was sexual abuse… most of my childhood’s memories are gone due to chemo. What remains is just like this article. I feel for you, I really do.
I suffered verbal, sexual and physical abuse at the hands of my ex husband over a period of 11 years. I have come to terms with the other forms of abuse but its the verbal that has left me questioning myself time and time again. While the cuts and bruises faded fast the words he would use to inflict upon me stung and wounded. After time I believed the words of abuse, the name calling, the put downs. I left him 6 years ago now yet still believe what he said was true, I was worthless. The verbal abuse is… Read more »
Until recently, I was not aware of the profound long lasting affects that bullying holds. It is an unfortunate serial crime that until now, has not obtained the status of criminality it deserves. But needed also is a full court press. Many bullies are sufferers of emotional instability, home violence or shattered self-esteem. Franklin County School District in Carnesville, Georgia USA is concentrating on behavioral patterns in the bullies, the bullied and the bystanders. While the jury is out, I admire their willingness to give it all they got. I have nothing but admiration, respect and pride in the Nathan… Read more »
Kendall.
We have come a long way in our collective acknowledgment of this damaging form of abuse, and we do still have a long way to go. I definitely appreciate your support and encouraging comments. Thank you very much for reading my story here, and offering your kind words. I wish you the best :]
Insanity……That is the only word that comes to mind when I read what you have gone through. As a prekindergarten teacher, I work with young children on a daily basis. I find it heart wrenching to think that this could be happening to anyone of my little ones while away from school. I cannot imagine how someone could even do anything so heinous to someone. I don’t understand why some people see children as insignificant or worthless enough to do such a thing. It makes me sick to my stomach and believe, that anyone, especially a child, should never have… Read more »
Thank you Leah.
I really appreciate you sharing a little bit of my life with me, by reading this article, and for taking the time to respond with support and kindness. This helps me keep moving forward. I wish you all the best :]
Dear Nathan, Thank you for your courage and bravery for speaking out, when few will. I’m so terribly sorry that you had to endure painful years of abuse. It’s horrendous. I think as more of us speak out and write about our experiences, there will be more support in our communities. I, too, have been commended and applauded for writing about the abuse I had as a child and as an adult. In my newly published memoir BESIDE MYSELF-Recovery From My Family Betrayal and Estrangement, I write about sexual abuse as well as emotional and verbal abuse. Main topics are… Read more »
Thank you so much Pamela,
I’m proud of you for sharing your story and I couldn’t agree more, that doing this will play a huge role in raising awareness and gaining more support from our friends, family, and society in general. Keep up the great work, and keep fighting this important fight. I will definitely check your book out, and add it to the library page on my website [ http://www.survivingthefourthcycle.com/library.html ].
Nathan, I don’t know what to say, words fail me. No child should have to suffer in this way. I have two children of my own and I do everything to ensure they only have happiness in their lives – I cannot comprehend anything else for my children. I have the utmost respect for you and the courage you have shown by sharing your story and for raising awareness. My admiration knows no bounds and I wish you all the very best for the future :). Lisa.
Thank you for your kind and supportive words Lisa. I feel the exact same way about my son, and I can’t even allow myself, for one second, to imagine him going through anything like I did. It all ends with me!!
[ http://youtu.be/SnwTMjcBVb4 ]
Thank you for being a great parent, and thanks again for writing in :]
Nathan, I applaud you for your courage in sharing with your readers a very personal story of the many atrocities you endured. As a young man who has survived these unthinkable horrors – you’re indeed helping raise awareness and peeling away the stigma associated with abuse, mental illness, etc. Through your writings many, many lives will be touched – saved, changed forever. I wish you the utmost success, continued healing and many blessings…
Barbara, I want you to know that I put this on my Facebook wall as an anonymous comment, because it really struck a nerve with me. I get so many encouraging comments every day, and it’s overwhelming for someone like me, who seldom ventures beyond the sanctity of my home, to experience such genuine support. Thank you so much Barbara, to feel connected to others, if only for a moment, who understand and truly support what I’m trying to accomplish, is a miracle to me. When someone, like yourself, takes time out of their life to express themself to me… Read more »
That’s terrible! No child should be afraid to go home. No matter what he’s done, bad grades, or what ever. I too got a taste of verbal and physical abuse but one thought kept me going. My dad will get old and feeble one day and there’ll be no one to help him. And that’s exactly how it panned out.
Thank you Zrinka.
It’s always so bitter-sweet, when people tell me they relate to my words. It connects us all, strengthens us, and reinforces the knowledge that we’re not alone with this… but, at the same time, I hate knowing that others suffered like I did and, unfortunately, so many have suffered far worse. I wish you all the best :]
I can only imagine what you went through. And for no real fault of yours apart from the fact that you were born in the family. I do not think I have any words of comfort for you. I will share this story for a simple reason that someone in similar shoes might find some hope or even a solution.
Thanks Biker!
I definitely appreciate you reading this, and passing it along… I really hope it does help someone, at the very least, feel less alone.
I wish you all the best :]
My heart goes out to you. No one should have to suffer like that. I so commend you for sharing your story and for fighting for others b/c I’m sure it has been a battle for you to put every word down. I wish you the best in life. You instill even a greater commitment in me to be the best mom I can be to my daughter. Hoping the best for you in the future.
Thank you very much Lil,
I really appreciate you reading the article, and commenting. Your support is sincerely appreciated, and in turn, your kind words have added to my own commitments. I wish you well, and thanks again!
This is terrible! I’m so sorry you had to go through any and all of that! It’s not right. I just wanted to extend that to you as someone who survived a lot less and still took forever to overcome my crap.
Thank you Jennifer!
I definitely appreciate you taking the time to read this, and reach out to me with some support. I’m sorry you can relate to the abuse, but I’m so proud of you for surviving :]
Thank you for telling your story— some of the details were so gruesome….I am sorry you had to suffer through all of that….
I am watching my friends’ marriage and family blow up and it is equally shocking and terrifying….I am trying to be supportive but it is hard because her family has told her to go back to that house….her 12 yo son is already using bad language and swearing in front of my son when they play X- Box… It is horrible watching the worst of one parent travel down to the next generation….
Hi Leia. Thank you for taking the time to read, and offer your support. Children are so impressionable and I know, only too well, how disturbing and frustrating it is to see ignorance passed down from one generation to the next. Ignorance has attacked my family this year too. My girlfriend and I are still recovering from her family trying to turn her kids against us. [ http://www.therealsupermumblog.com/2013/05/stigma-and-ignorance/ ]. I wish you the best of luck, with your own situation, and I hope the kids are safe and will see brighter days soon. Thanks again for reaching out to me.… Read more »