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Just Love me!

Is it bad that I only have one wish in life? Most people want big houses, money, cars and anything a shop can offer them. I saw some people that expect so many things, that they think will make them happier. I am not one of those. I just want thing in my life, and that is to be loved. I know it sound strange, but isn’t that a human right? To be loved and felt special? Isn’t it important to know that some has a special place for you in their heart and they think you are so special and mean a lot to them, that you can feel that love and it helps you face the many difficulties we have in life?

You are right. I just want someone to love me. I want to be cared about and I want someone to think I am so special, that they have a place in their heart and thoughts for me.

I lived with my mom and big sister. I don’t remember my dad and I never seen him. My mom worked to support us and I don’t think she missed dad, as she had lots of friends that were men. This was the house I was born in. It was nothing weird, as millions of children are raised by a single parent family. However, I got my family and this would affect me for the rest of my life. It’s like when God decides what family we get, he spins a roulette wheel and mine landed on the worse one! I bet you think I am just overreacting and feeling sorry for myself.  Read on and judge for yourself…

My first memory is when I was 4.  I was a slim girl with long hair and I looked pretty, just not as pretty as my sister. I was potty trained and I was a quiet girl that never really got in trouble. Why would I get in trouble? My mother would get so mad, that she would slap me or spank me. This day she came home after a day’s work and collecting us from preschool and my sister from school. I was of course tired after a long day at school and all the way home in the car, my sister was poking me. I tried telling my mother that it hurt and she didn’t believe me. When we got in the house, Mom told me to stand in the corner and think of how mean I was for blaming my sister.

After I stood there for some time, she came and shouted in my face, that I could feel her spit as she shouted. She told me I was disgusting and ugly. I knew what ugly was, as my sister called me that all the time. I didn’t know exactly what she meant by disgusting. I knew some vegetables were disgusting, but how was I disgusting? I started crying as it wasn’t my fault, it was my sister’s fault, and yet my mother was speaking to me as if she hated me.

The fact was that everyone loved my old sister. They thought she was pretty enough to be a model. They thought she was always so behaved. She was all smiles when she was with adults, but behind their backs, she was a brat and sometimes evil. I was just normal looking and in the way most of the time, so I was blamed for whatever she done. My mom would tell me to sit over her knee and she would just spank and spank until it felt like I had no skin left. It wasn’t enough for mum to just spank me bare bottomed; I had to be totally naked. It didn’t make any difference if we had guests. They were given a show. I often wondered every time a brush or something hit my bum, if the guests thought it was too much and could feel the pain I felt. However when Mom was finished spanking me, I could see the guests smiling through my teary eyes. Maybe this was because most of them were men that she met. The worse thing was that the spanking was not the end of the humiliation. I had to sit on the table while the guests could just look at my naked body. I know that many 5 year olds do not mind being naked. I did as I could see the men raping me with their eyes, which was scary. I had to sit there while Mom told these men that I liked showing myself to men. Then she would tell them I was disgusting and slutty. I didn’t know what this meant. I just knew it was bad. The other thing I knew is that this never happened to my sister… she was loved….

This did not just happen at home. When we were at malls, mom would put me in a shopping cart. Then she would whisper in my ears to spread my legs. This was so embarrassing. I would see some girls smirking as they seen this and know that they felt proud that they knew not to spread legs and show their panties. The boys and men would also stare. I never understood why, as my body was not developed. Why didn’t my mother put my sister in the shopping cart? She was much prettier than I was! My sister would have said no at any rate. She was allowed to say no. If I said no or didn’t spread my legs as much as I could, she would slap me on my ear and tell me to do it. Looking back at it, I wonder did mom just want to humiliate me or did she use me as bait. I remember that men would speak with her while they stared down at me. Later these men would come home and some would even be one of moms many friends that were men.

I think Mom liked me crying. I remember a few times when one of these men was at home; mom would bring them into my room. Then she would tie my hands to the bed. The man would already be in shock, but mom would tell them I was a disgusting girl and I liked it. When my hands were tied, then my mom would pull down my panties. This shouldn’t have bothered me, as half the men in town probably seen me naked, but I cried at any rate. Then mom would get mad at me and say she will give me something to cry about. She then would take some hot sauce and pour it over my privates. I would then scream, cry and beg. Mom and the man would then laugh and agree that I must have liked it. How could I like it? I was screaming my head off. This happened several times, and it is nothing that you get used to! I was often left there to the next day.

Most parents try to protect their children from paedophiles and people that would hurt them. I think that these men interested mom. Of course Mom protected my big sister, but when it came to me, she did not care. She would tell me to lay down on the bed or most often the table in the dining room. Then she would hit and slap me all over. When I say all over, I meant all over! The men would also do this and then they would feel me. The pain was one thing, but the embarrassment that I no longer complained about being naked or being hit just let mom and her friends tease that I liked it. The worse thing was when my body would react to it, as my body would be simulated. It was like my body was betraying me in saying it liked being molested. After I was used like a punching bag and a sex toy, I would go to my room and cry and cry.

Where was God? Why was my life such a hell on earth? Why was it so hard to be loved? Was God like these men, and laughed when I cried. I tried to tell myself that I was not disgusting, it was my life and the people that did things to make me cry and in pain were disgusting. When I was about 8, I decided that I needed help. I needed someone to take care of me and to love me.

I went to my grannies that lived on the other side of town. She seemed happy enough to see me, although she always had more smiles for my sister. I think it’s because mom told her I was a problem child. We sat on the sofa and she was glued to some soap opera on TV. She didn’t seem to notice I was nervous and wanted to tell her something. I finally whispered to her that I needed her help.  I told her everything. How Mom exhibited me to others, how she hit and tortured me and let men molest and hit me. I explained that she never done it with my big sister because she was so perfect.

Granny then was silent. She then reached for a wooden spoon and started hitting me all over, calling me a liar and do I not know how much these lies hurt people that love me? I ran around the room as she hit me and hit me with the spoon. At the end, I was too weak and collapsed on the floor.  She kept on calling me a liar and how could someone ever love a liar? I stayed on the floor until Mom and my sister came. I really wanted my sister to come and protect me and give me a hug. She just listened to granny tell my mom about my lies. Mom carried me out to the car and home without saying a word.

The next few weeks, no one spoke to me. I was told to stay in my bedroom. I even ate there. I was mad at the teachers that told us if we were hurt, that we should tell an adult. I told granny and see what it got me?  I was black and blue all over and I was invisible. I stopped praying then and I decided that I would never tell anyone again.

Mum looked in the door a few times and said that the lies I told granny hurt her a lot. She would tell me that I mustn’t love her all that much and then she left me. That confused me. I loved mom and my sister; well… at least I wanted to. I tried my best to love them, but how could I love someone that treated me like shit?

My sister came into me and told her mum has been very sad because of what I told Granny. I wanted to tell her that they were not lies, but I did not trust her. She then told me to hold out my hands and she put warm sauce on them. After she done this, she went around my room pulling heads off of the few dolls I had, and ripping books apart. This made me cry as they were the things in life that kept me sane. When I put my hands to my eyes, they stung because of the hot sauce. This made me scream and cry more. My sister was yelling as well, telling me I was such a cry-baby at my age. She would take care of that. She said I was selfish, because I wanted all the attention. She asked me did I not know how much time she stole from her time with mom because I was such a freak that I wanted all the attention.  It was then I knew that my sister truly hated me!

That left Mom. I tried to be what she wanted the next few weeks. I even tried saying thank you when she hit me, saying that I deserved it.  When one of her male friends came and wanted to spend time alone with me, I didn’t complain. I felt like screaming and crying and begging him to stop. But I didn’t. I just lie on the bed and let him hit me and molest me. It was then when I knew that Mum hated me as well. I felt so alone!

School was the only escape I had. I had a few friends there. But I felt like they were sticking me with a knife every time they talked about their loving families and what they did at home. I had nothing to boast about, except being hated, tortured and molested. Most likely found me to be a weird girl.  In a way I thought I was too. As all I was told is I was disgusting and only worth to be abused and I liked it that way. I knew I hated it, but I also started believing I was not like others.

When I was 11, I came home from school. Mom stood there with a suitcase. She told me that I was no longer living there. I promised myself not to cry again but this was the final drop. I asked why I didn’t live there, and where would I live? My Mom explained that she could no longer deal with me and I was going to live at my granny.

I asked her did she love me?

No answer.

I was dropped off at grannies. She didn’t smile when she seen me or give me a hug. Mom didn’t give me a hug when she left. I felt like a little pet being given to a new owner.

I was in my new bedroom at Grannies. She came in and asked if I still think it was true what I told her once how I was treated. I didn’t answer, as what good would it do? I would just be chased around and been hit by a wooden spoon. Grannie turned red and started calling me a liar and no good for anything. She then told me I was no good for nothing. I just stuck my head in the pillow and started crying.

I cried a lot the first few days, and no matter why…. granny called me liar and was making me feel like nothing. Mom hit me again and again, and molested and let others molest me, but grannies words hurt just as much.  I went from one hell to another hell.

After a few weeks of being there, granny came home from shopping. She had a big bag in her hands. She told me that she sees my eyes were red from crying. She had a solution for that. Before I knew it, she had me on my back and I was stripped. She put a diaper under me. I was shocked at what she was doing and so humiliated. I begged her not to do it. I would never cry or be in the way or want attention. It made no difference.  A few minutes later, I had a diaper on me. To make things worse, she told me when I was at home, I was not allowed to wear anything over the diaper.

I thought I would get used to the diaper and the verbal abuse and humiliation. It didn’t happen. I could see the diapers when I looked down. I could feel them when they were wet. The loving grandmother that everyone talked about was just a fantasy to me. Mine loved humiliating me and hurting me with words. My mind was so confused what the truth was and I was beginning to hate myself.

School was a refuge for me, a place I loved. It was not so much the others that went there, it was just a building that was an escape. I could read books about people who loved humanity so much, they would give up their life. I of course wore diapers to school. The fear that someone would find out I wore diapers were torture as well. It meant that I wore very baggy clothes and didn’t get to close to anyone. Looking back at it, I don’t know how I survived. Maybe it would have been easier if people just found out as then it would just be humiliating. Having fear is a bad thing.

Then again, I lived in fear all the time in what humiliation my granny would find for me.  The worse is when she would send me outside just wearing diapers. The local children would come and tease me and laugh. I felt like I was on exhibition.

When I was 14, I had enough. I asked granny if she loved me.

She didn’t answer.

I packed my things and left.

I now lived on the streets. I survived by doing the only thing I knew. I sold my body to men. I was not happier, but at least I knew that on the streets, I could not expect anyone to love me.

I was “saved” and lived in a foster home. I was not treated bad there and was treated like any normal teen. However they did not love me. I was a source of income. My granny visited me once and I wet myself as soon as I seen her. She was told to leave and I never seen her since.

I never saw my mom or sister again. I don’t want to either, what would I say to them?

You expected this to have a happy ending. That has yet to come.  My life is influenced by my childhood.  I live alone and only go out when I have to work or shop. Otherwise I have secluded myself in my house. I have tried to create an alternative life on Second Life, which is a virtual world. I am a toddler on this and my one hope is that I will get a mother that loves me unconditionally. This has not happened, as the mothers I had there either are too busy or does not understand that this is not just role-play for me. I have two aunts that love me there, but at times, I don’t even believe this and always think they are mad at me or don’t love me. It’s so hard to trust. It’s so hard to hope.

The last mother I had on Second Life called me a freak.

You hoped for a happy ending and I am sorry that I could not do that. However when we mentally and physically abuse children, it’s hard to have a good ending. I hope you will read this, and not just feel sorry for me, but think about all the children like me that never know what it was to be wanted or loved.

I am a strong person. I hate myself yet I love myself. I know that I have a good heart. I hope by letting Dauphin do this story, I will help others.

After all…

Everyone deserves to be loved