It looks like you're using an Ad Blocker.

Please white-list or disable AboveTopSecret.com in your ad-blocking tool.

Thank you.

 

Some features of ATS will be disabled while you continue to use an ad-blocker.

 

A Boy Meets Tomorrow [LEWC]

page: 1
8

log in

join
share:

posted on Jul, 6 2012 @ 05:31 AM
link   
Born in 1983, into a family of a mother, father, 1 sister and 1 brother. We lived in a fairly inadequate house. My father owned his own fishing trawlers (2) and my mother was a house wife. My father would be at sea for up to a month at a time. My father would come home and without so much as looking at his children or communicating with us, he would go straight out to the pub and drink. He’d be gone for days. He would return home drunk, usually while we were in bed. I’d hear him and my mum arguing, fighting etc. It used to scare me terribly. I’d cry in my bed knowing that my mum would be getting hurt. In the morning I would see my mum was hurt, she would have bruises on her face, arms etc. Being very young at the time (about 2-3 years old), I would recognise when my dad was in “one of those moods”, I could sense it with him, but me being a child I’d just want to play with him. I’d play with my siblings, probably loudly and running about as children do. But my dad wouldn’t tolerate it. He’d warn us to stop running around but as everyone knows; children will obey for a short time then forget about it. My dad would take us all upstairs into the bathroom. He’d tell us to take down our trousers and lean over the bath. We knew exactly what was coming, we would cry so hard before we were even hit. This wasn’t because of fear; this was because of the sight of your brothers and sisters being hurt. I remember being hit with the belt repeatedly, over and over, then watching my brother and sister getting the same punishment. We’d be sent to our room afterwards to go to bed. We were threatened that if we cried we’d get beat again. There were occasions where we would stick up for each other. An example being that I would take the blame for something because I didn’t want my sister or brother getting hurt. Or there would be occasions where I’d try and pull my brother or sister away from my dad when he was dragging them upstairs. It wasn’t long before my mum and dad split up; however, what I must stress at this point is that my mum was no angel in this. She would also hit us, just not as frequently as my dad. She’d abuse us in different ways when my dad wasn’t home, such as not make us any meals to eat, let us starve for a day or two, all the while she went out partying and my alcoholic grandmother looked after us. My grandmother was not fit to look after us. She was a raging alcoholic, one day she told me to go to a shop on my own when I was 4, across a busy road to get a soother for my “new” younger brother. This resulted in me being knocked down and hospitalised with a broken leg and fractured skull. All the while my mum was out with friends, my dad was offshore and my grandmother was drinking her “extra strength cans of lager”.

Shortly after this my parents split indefinitely. My mum gave us up to live with our father’s parents, my other grandmother and grandfather. My grandfather was a gentle giant and I love him very much, he never harmed us at all, my grandmother was also very gentle. For the first time in my short life I was fed and clothed and treated like a child, allowed to push boundaries whilst not living in fear for myself and my siblings. I was glad to be away from my parents, even though I still missed them, but when I think back, maybe it was the change that made me feel sad. Either way, my life had changed for the better.

We lived with my grandparents for a couple of years, until I was 6 years old. We would get visits from my mother and father on a weekly basis (separately) under supervision because the social services were aware of the abuse because they were informed by my grandparents. One Sunday my mum pulled up to my grandparents’ house whilst we were all playing outside. She put the window down and said “how would you all like to come live with mum again?” we all said “yes”, as any child would. My mum knew my grandmother was ill in bed and my grandfather was working, she told us all to go into the house and get some clothes and put them in a bag and meet her round the corner. We all did this and got into the car. She told us we were going to live with mum and “her new boyfriend”, in a town about 200 miles away. As we drove away I cried for my grandparents. Although I said I wanted to go, I actually didn’t. I was confused between my mum and my security.

We lived in this “new town” with my mum and her partner for 2 years. During this time we lived in a tenement flat with only 2 bedrooms. My mum and her boyfriend were in one room and me, my 2 brothers and sister in another room. It wasn’t long into the move that my sister went “away”, she was taken away by the social services to live with my grandparents again. I was never told why. So now it was only us 3 brothers. My mum’s partner was a nice enough guy, at least I thought so. He would let us use his “computer”, buy us things, play with us etc., but this was all a seduction technique. He was seducing us for what he wanted to do. My mother by this point in my life (7 years old) was a drug addict; I’d often see her sniffing glue or smoking cannabis. Her partner also did these things.

His seduction techniques were to lour us into a sense of safety around him. Until he “pounced”. He sexually abused me and my brothers. I won’t go into to many details but this went on for nearly 2 years, he would bribe us with money and food or threaten us with violence. I would tell my mum about it but all she would do is tell me I was lying and send us to our room. After 2 years of this form of abuse, we moved back to our original town, this time with only my mum. She had told us that she had split with her partner and she wanted a life with just us 3 (I later found out that the social services told her to either split with her boyfriend or we would be taken away from her). My sister was still living with my grandparents, and I still at that point had no idea why. After a couple of months of living back “home”. My mum called us into a room. She told us that she wanted a “break” from us. She said that we were going to go on holiday for a couple of weeks without her but we’d be coming back home soon. She even bought us going away presents. All I could do was cry. It was later discovered (when I was 25) that she put us “away” because she chose to live with her ex-boyfriend instead of her children.

The social services arrived at the door and we were taken to our “new homes”. I and my eldest brother were put into a foster home with other children, whilst my youngest brother went on his own to live with a family. For a number of years we moved around different homes until in 1995 when I was 11, a family (my current adopted parents) replied to an advert of me in the newspaper saying they wanted to give me a home. The advert read along the lines of…(my adopted mum still has the advert in her purse)…

“Peter (name changed for data protection) is a kind and loving child who is in desperate need of a new home and family. He enjoys spending time with other children, playing computer games and spending time with those who love him.”

I was finally being raised in a normal family, with no violence, no drugs, no shouting, no alcohol, no starvation, no fear, no persecution, no segregation…only love for who I am.


edit on 6/7/12 by jrmcleod because: (no reason given)




posted on Jul, 6 2012 @ 05:33 AM
link   
At a sexual education class in high school, I was watching a video on sexually transmitted diseases. All my memories of abuse came back to me and I developed a huge fear of AIDS. I went to the Dr and spoke to him about my childhood and my fear. He re-assured me that if I had AIDS it would have presented itself by now (was 15 at the time and the abuse happened 8 years prior). I eventually plucked up the courage to talk to my adopted parents about it, who immediately contacted my social worker and the police came to interview me. The social services knew something was going on because my sister was taken away to live with my grandparents when we lived in the “new town”, its just we were never told about why she was taken away. It turns out she was taken away because she contacted my grandparents to tell them about it and the social services became involved.

The police investigation continued and it was overwhelming to me…I wanted to forget but was being forced to remember. My 2 brothers were also quizzed as the case was re-opened. They both denied it but I knew it happened to them over the course of the 2 years because I witnessed “him” come into our room and take them through to his room. (they later admitted when I was 25 that it happened to them but they remained quiet because of fear).

The case eventually went to the high court and I was in the witness box for over 2 hours. I had to identify him on a police line, and stand in front of a jury and judge and relive every single minute detail. The actions performed, the durations, feelings, bribery etc. I stood there in tears whilst not being able to look at him. My real mum was in the audience, not batting an eyelid. My adopted mum sat there crying, listening to me. My adopted dad couldn’t be present as he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Even now as I type there are tears running down my face.

The court finally adjourned and I left the box. I was walking out of the court house and my mother was across the street from me, i was walking holding hands with my adopted mother. My real mother started shouting abuse at me, calling me a “little [snip]” and a liar. She had no remorse, no sense of feeling for me, no sense of empathy.

I went home with my adopted mum and went to my room and cried myself to sleep. My mum got a call a few days later from the social services informing her that he was found guilty and sentenced to 9 years in prison and put on the sex offenders register.

I went from not attending school, not eating, being sexually abused, violently abused, being torn away from my family countless times to graduating school with passes in my exams. I have since then met the love of my life, had a child with her who is a gorgeous little boy (3 years) with another due in the next 2 weeks (who will be a little girl). I hold a good job in HSE for a US based marine company in the UK, have a mortgage and call my adoptive parents MUM and DAD. My son and daughter will grow up to feel like they are their REAL grandparents. My real mother and father are NOT part of their life and will never be.

My life experiences to date have certainly shaped what type of parent I am, and to a certain degree what type of partner I am.

I discipline my child with a firm sharp voice, a voice of authority, and I give him “timeout”. If he misbehaves at meal times, he is put on the stairs until he apologises. I explain to him why I did that, we have a hug and he sits back down for his meal. If he continues to misbehave (unlikely) the process is repeated until he gives in and eats some of his food. The same applies to all things. If we are out having fun and he misbehaves and doesn’t heed the warnings, he is taken out of the situation and left until he apologises. Again we have a chat and we continue on our way after a hug. I and his mother do this. He responds exceptionally well to it.

As a victim of both physical and sexual abuse, I can tell you first had that it is TERRIBLE to go through any of it. When you’re crying so hard you wet yourself, you can’t look at someone in the eye because of fear of retaliation. This is not a life for a child. I will never abuse a child; I will never let anyone abuse a child.

Children are a gift, not a possession. They are to be loved, not controlled, they are to be enjoyed not hated and they are to be allowed to live not scared to live.

I have lived through hell as a child; I have been to the edge and back, but I KNOW what is right.

Enjoy children, play with them, make them laugh, pick them up when they fall, hug them…don’t make them fall, don’t make them cry, don’t neglect them love.

Ultimately my life experiences has led me to ATS as it has encouraged me to question existence, love, creation and the truth…ATS has eventually led me to writing this short story…

It’s “funny” how things find a way out…or is it designed this way?

edit on 6/7/12 by masqua because: edited censor circumvention

edit on 6/7/12 by jrmcleod because: (no reason given)



posted on Jul, 6 2012 @ 07:57 AM
link   
 


off-topic post removed to prevent thread-drift


 



posted on Jul, 6 2012 @ 11:21 AM
link   
reply to post by jrmcleod
 


I'd like to say "well done" for a story so well written, but the subject matter cannot be easily brushed aside. There is nothing good about people like your parents. Consumed with selfishness, I find myself sometimes losing faith in humanity, but then there are people like you who live through it, and make the world a better place. You got lucky, and should continue cherishing your children and life.

I will say thanks for sharing such an intimate part of your past, and I admire your courage to move forward. SnF!

Very honest and touching. I hope you continue to pursue your abilities as a writer.



posted on Jul, 7 2012 @ 01:23 AM
link   
Thank you so much for sharing. I'm sure it is one of the hardest things you have ever done. Answer me this though, Do you feel bette? I bet you do, Writing out your experiences wether good or bad can help you cope with what has happened. Thank you for sharing, and I hope to see more from you in the future as you are a great writer. Keep your head up.



posted on Jul, 8 2012 @ 05:00 PM
link   
reply to post by jrmcleod
 

I often wonder how people can come through such situations and ever trust again. I can only admire your courage and feel happy that you have been able to experience love. I certainly wish you continued happiness.



new topics

top topics
 
8

log in

join