Various people in this forum posted how they were abused in some way, and so, I'd like to share mine. My psychiatrist and therapist, upon diagnosis, brought it up and now it won't leave my mind. So, if you want, after mine, post yours. Mine was fairly dreadful, however, bear in mind, I'm not saying it was the worst, I'm sure others have had worse.  

A while ago my father was mentally assessed and, to not much surprise, he fit the bill for a sociopath. His father was, not surprisingly, also presumed to be a sociopath. I'm sure others have lived with them or perhaps dated them, but if not, I'll share my story. He was quite good at making my family's life a living hell, however, to others outside our family, he was charming, witting, charismatic, etc... . My mother was not a sociopath, however, has a pretty nasty temper. She contributed mostly verbal abuse, only physical abuse occured when bottles of booze came towards me. My father contributed the most to both emotional and physical abuse. My grandmother (father's mother), acting as a baby-sitter when I was young as my parents didn't trust a random teenager did a decent amount of verbal abuse but the only physical abuse occured whenever I was reminded at young ages that canes hurt. My cousins didn't do as much, mostly verbal abuse but that was minimal.  

So, you may say, well what about your friends at school? Ah yes, those people. For almost all grades in highschool, with the exception of senior year, I was bullied endlessly. It seemed as though they made up whenever my parents were at work and I was at school. Simple name-calling to having the daily routine of a ball finding its way to my face to being out of the teacher's view, stripped down (all the way or partial way) and either shoved around, hit, ridiculed or what was so funny to them ditching my clothes so I'd have to try and find something to wear. Fortunately, a few kind people brought me my clothes back or lent me some of their spare clothes.  

In later years (i.e. approaching highschool), the whole business with girls came in. Back then, a hilarious move on their part was going on a date with me or even being my "girlfriend" then suddenly doing something to embarass me infront of numerous people.  

For a large amount of time, in the later years still, an even more common move on their part was to take something of mine, such as my bag and books, then dump them all over the school. At times, some of the stuff was so demolished that by the time I located it (usually missing the bus and having to take a city bus and walk), it was beyond usage.  

Now, would the teachers help? Rarely. One of them in particular loved to make fun of me for the fact that I was shorter and skinnier than others, and the fact I was bullied endlessly.  

At home, for a rather prolonged peroid of time, I constantly wet the bed. Isn't that delightful? After everything that was done, I wake up in my own urine. The next morning, my mother and grandmother (and father too if he got involved) ridiculued me for it.  

I found amazement (best word I can think of) in fire. I'm not sure why I did but I used it as a method of calming my head. I would light matches, watch the flame then dump it in a small glass of water to put it out and love the smell of that thin trail of smoke.  

So, in later years at home is when my parents kicked it into higher gear. My father showed me that tennis racquet versus my face, racquet wins. He then liked to kick up all the abuse, physical and verbal by using belts on me and hitting. He tended to avoid the face area as he went for the rest of the body. I believe the first time he locked me out was at Grade 6 or 7 during the winter. I waited a while for my mother to come home then pretended that I was playing outside (at some unusually late hour of the night) and got to go inside.  

However, there were many times when I was not getting hit or ridiculed or whatever else. During those times, I watched as my father slowly manipulated various people and began to destroy them with no remorse.  

When I was not at school, I was either doing something I was told not to (I did, and still do whatever I want, how I want, when I want and to whoever I want) or attempting to study. I was pretty smart in school as I got quite nice grades. Those few people who helped me out when I was down (literally) tended to leave each year. I learnt from what my father shows and manipulated them then began to slowly destroy them. They were good though, as they helped me learn to show emotions. I tried to be with them and want to be with others but never feel that I'm able to. I don't know what the word for that is but I'm sure there is one.  

To those who harmed me, I tried to be nice to others, sometimes even those same people, and destroyed their self-esteem, etc... (no I didn't kill them, as far as I know, they're still alive today).  

There was one thing I was never able to do successfully though and I'm aware of it - have a true friendship with feelings.  

So, here I am now. Diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder (apparently called sociopathy) and schizophrenia. I'm going into therapy/counselling (again), however, for the first one, I believe there's no cure. I'm trying to learn emotions but it's like I'm a little kid at something new, I still don't get it.

Post edited at 11:33 pm on May 11, 2008 by HellHound

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"eitherway i know my feelings on this are logical
. its common sence" - xdreaxbabyx.