Today I swung on over to Simply Sarah to check on the latest update. The most recent comic deals with Stacey, the "villian" of sorts, and her troubled childhood. Her story is both sad and eerily reminiscent of my own. I don't think I've ever told ANYONE, really, about my own story, so this is my response to the author of the comic:
"Sky,
I just created a DD account simply so I could say the following:
*Possible Trigger Warning*
I have been physically, verbally, and emotionally abused since I was eight years old. It started off with smacks and "switches," but quickly escalated. Sometimes I had to stay home from school for days at a time because of the bruises.
By the time I was fifteen, I was getting beat on a regular basis by both my father and my stepmother. I was deeply depressed, because I didn't feel like anyone loved or even slightly cared about me at all, and because the severity of the beatings was sharply increasing. I can honestly say I was scared for my life.
One day, after my dad had pushed me down the stairs and I'd sustained some pretty nasty bruises, I went to school just like always. That day, in art class, one of my friends jokingly poked me on my arm, on one of my bruises. (I was wearing a hoodie, so it wasn't visible.) Seeing me wince, she asked what was wrong, and I replied with some non-committal response about being bruised. Fast-forward to the next day. The counselor called me into her office and said that she'd noticed that my sisters and I had some very nasty bruises, and that she was concerned about us. Normally, I would've lied to cover it up: said something about falling, or being clumsy, or rollerblading or something. I don't know why, but that day, I...I told the truth. I told my counselor about the beatings, the curses, the tears, about...everything.
She called in a Social Worker, and they snapped pictures of my bruises. I can't even describe how... RELIEVED I was that something was finally being done, that this nightmare would finally end. The Social Worker smiled and said that I'd be safe.
A little while later, she left to talk to my parents. To this day, I still don't know what they told her, but I think the gist of it went along the lines of, "No, I'm not beating her, actually, SHE'S beating ME," or something like that. When she returned, I looked up. Her smile had been replaced with a scowl, and she yelled at me for being a huge liar. It felt like I was being crushed. Here I was, hoping to escape the nightmare, only to have it thrust back on me in all its horror-filled glory. I looked at her and in that moment, I realized that I couldn't trust anyone but myself. Nobody could rescue me from the nightmare.
Not only did I not get "rescued," I also wound up on probation because I was "out-of-control"-- me, a 4.0 GPA, perfect attendance, shy as fuck fifteen-year-old. This comic really brought me back, and I thank you for publishing it: sometimes, we need to face our demons head-on."
Does anyone else have some demons they need to face?
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hugs to you thmilebig.
And this is why I am furious about the "Always obey and listen to adults" culture. I had a similar experience with a police officer, and it is one of the worst memories of my life. People can be selfish; they don't want to believe parents can be cruel. It's a lot easier to just tell themselves that the kids are jerks.