I will start form the begging of my life. I was born in Kiev, Ukraine on March 1st of 1988. My parents were 22 or 23 at the time I was conceived. At the begging my family lived in my father’s parent’s apartment. It was a huge place, it want a problem, but eventually we moved out into our own place. I was about 5 at the time, so I did not understand why we had to move out and it was a bit hard on me. Since I really like my father’s sister, she was really nice to me, and always spent time with me, and comforted me when I was scared. But ones we moved out I got accustomed to the new neighborhood; made new friends. As I grew up as every kid, I misbehaved and did things that were against my parent’s wishes. Just like every other kid would do. My father was a type of a guy who beloved in force that would teach me how to behave. I remember when ever I would do something wrong, he would take out his belt and beat me, to knock some sense into me. Some times I think he went a little over board. I remember this one time.
It was a warm summer evening; I was about 7 years old maybe 8. My Mom wasn’t home she was at work, but my Dad was. So I asked him if I could go out side with one of my friends for 30 minutes, he said yes and I left. The neighborhood was safe every kid went to the local park, or what was supposed to be a park. We were playing this game called “knifes”. It involved drawing a circle in the ground and dividing in half. One half was yours and the other one belong to another. You would have to through the knife into the ground and steal a piece of his land. You do this until he had no land left. Time flew by with out me noticing anything, after we finished the game I said I had to go home. I came home my father got up from watching TV took me by the collar of my shirt and slammed me into the wall. He yelled at me asking why I was away for two hours when I was supposed to be home in 30 minutes. I told him what I was doing and where, but he didn’t care, he told me he went out looking for me and didn’t find me. Then I remember he told me to take my pants and shirt off. At that point I knew what was going to happen, he was going to spank the shit out of me. He took my dog’s leather leach and did what I knew was going to happen. By that time I was used to the pain and the beating, I knew something that I could do to make the pain feel less intense. Then next day I couldn’t go out side with out a long sleeved t-shirt and pants. Not because I didn’t want others to see, but because the hot summer sun, it would heat up the burns that were left from the leather leash which left burns on my back, parts of my arms, and my legs. To me this was normal; it was a type of punishment for my misbehaving. It wasn’t like he did this when ever he felt like it.
I think some people might not think that was a little OD but this other incident I remember was sure an OD. This time I was younger maybe 6 years old. My parents got me a private tutor to learn a second language; English. I had to memorize numbers one through 10, some reason I just couldn’t remember the number seven. I always messed up at seven. Eventually my Dad couldn’t take it so he decided to make me stand on my knees with buckwheat in between my knees. I was there on my knees with a stool in from of me and the number cards trying to memorize how to count one thought 10 in English. The buckwheat did not help me do remember the fucking number seven. So my father decided to slam my head a couple of time in to that stool, which was in front of me. Thank fully the stool had a padding on it, other wise I believe I wouldn’t be here. Even that didn’t make me memorize the number seven. So after two hours if not more my father gave up and said to me to go to sleep. Next day was my birthday.
Despite the things my father did to me I still loved him just as much as I loved my mother. I had a good family, we did things every other family would do. We had dinners together, had parties, went on vacation trips with friends. Life was great.
Then in February of 1998, my mother and I immigrated in to United States of America, specifically New York City, that’s were life turned simply in to hell.  I was nine at the time. My father never wanted to come here for some reason, but before my mother and I left he told us that he is going to come soon ones he finishes some business with his father; knowing this we left. Months past by like it was noting, those months eventually turned into years, with out his arrival. I was growing up with out a father. I loved him and missed him very much, but yet I never called him to ask him when he is planning to come. I only spoke to him when it was his birthday, or my birthday. Some times I felt like I was responsible that he didn’t come. But as I got older I just dint care any more.
I was growing up with out a father and practically a mother was tough. My mom was learning English to get accepted into a medical college. I had to grow up with my grandmother and grandfather, from my mother’s side. My grandmother is what made my life a living hell for me. Since we were living in her house my mother couldn’t do anything, nor did I. I remember she would scream hysterically to the point where her head would look like it was about to explode. Not only would she scream like a fucking lunatic she would also curse at my mother some times. She would call my mother a whore because she did not like the guy my mother was going on couple of dates. Who the fuck is she to pick a guy for my mother, when she did that I want to just take a knife and butcher her into pieces. She destroyed all my dreams and hopes, she made me think my father was a worthless piece of shit, and what made it even worth, is that she said I was like him. She called me stupid, a moron, things of that sorts, and when I said I want to become a scientist she simply laughed at me and said “Yea just like your father want to be one too.” You might say just ignore it, I did. But when a relative tells you this, every single day you simply accept this as a fact. Then when puberty hit, my cousin grew taller then me, and every time I wouldn’t eat something or drink she would tell me that I am going to be a midget, just like my fathers brother. She did this for over two or three years. I don’t understand how the fuck are you going to tell a child when he is growing up all these things. That is going to be a midget or a moron. Not only did she call me stupid, claimed that I am going to be a moron, she constantly drilled into my head that I am an ugly moron. Simply because I used to pop my pimples. She compared me to my cousin, every time I did something wrong. “Oh look at you cousin, he has such a health face, doesn’t look he just came out of a concentration camp”. Any thing you could of think of she said to me. It made me feel like shit, like I was no one. There were times at which I want to simply commit suicide, but I knew that wasn’t the answer to my problems. I never turned to smoking or any types of drugs.
Now that I have grown up, the things she said really had an effect on me. I have no confidents what so ever in my self. I think I am some skinny anorexic kid. Every time I look at my self in the mirror I could always find a flaw. Then when ever I am walking on the street, those words “you look like a piece of shit” keep coming back to me. So every time I talk to some one or meet some one knew, I think that they are thinking I am some horrible looking kid. I am afraid to speak up because I have a heavy accent and have troubles pronouncing some English sounds. The only time I have no trouble speaking up is in my math classes or a science classes, because I know I am going to be right. But when people tell me that I am a brilliant person or look good, anything positive, I feel comfortable. But as soon that statement is over I begin to feel insecure ones again. It is almost as if I need to be pampered like an infant.  I don’t know how to stop all of this. I simple want to be a normal human being.
About a month ago my grandmother tipped me off ones again, by saying that I look like a kid that just came out from a concentration camp. This time I couldn’t take it any more I simply told her “that she is a fat pig” and stop talking to her to this day. What I said was true about her, and she told me how I could offend her like that. I wanted to curse the shit out of her, but I didn’t, I simply stopped talking to her. The reason I decide to stop talking to her. Is because she told me how she came back form this elderly woman that told her how she was in pain because she was dieing and that she and her daughter did not talk for over 30 year. So I have decided to let her suffer the pain that I had to go trough, to make her pay for all those sharp words which destroyed me. She started to try to talk to me but I simply refuse to talk to her.
But that hasn’t made my problems of insecurities to disappear; I don’t know what to do. In addition to that I still have to hear her scream when, she yells at others in my family. There are people that tell me that I am a handsome guy. I am 5 10 and weight 155 pounds, I go to the gym regularly, so those 155 pounds aren’t fat. I ended up being taller then my cousin. I am also defiantly not stupid. This is my first year in college, it just started and I haven’t got anything lower then an A; there is no A+ in my school. I don’t like how my face looks like.

tell me what you think

Post edited at 11:02 pm on Oct. 28, 2006 by kclv1988

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Abusive Child hood http://www.golivewire.com/forums/peer-377652-support-0.html

first and foremost, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you - at 5'10" and 155 you're at a perfectly normal weight, especially if you work out a lot.  i dont know what you look like either other than that, but i'm assuming if you're called handsome you probably are.

secondly, i dont even know where to begin with your grandmother.  even just the small amount of information you're given is enough to tell me that she is a sick, twisted, sad old woman.  from what you've told me i cant say anything other than that and that she's a bitch... i know that may be hard to hear because she's family, if you consider her that anymroe, but again, thats what i think

your father on the other hand - there is, in my opinion, no excuse for someone to beat a child, but other than that if you had a good family life, then i dont know what to tell you.  the best thing you can do i think is just forgive him for what he did if you havent already, and try to establish some form of contact especially if you think he'd like to hear that

as for your confidence, one thing you might want to do is just write down on a piece of paper - "you are special, and there is nothing wrong with you" or something like that, and carry that around with you wherever you go. whenever you feel like you need something to boost your confidence, you can just look at that and know it's true.  another thing that i've heard suggested mainly for girls who dont think theyre beautiful, but that i think would definitely work for you is to take a sticky note or piece of paper and write "i am handsome" on it and tape or stick it to your bathroom mirror so whenever you go there for a shower or something you'll see that and remember that you are

pm me if you'd like to talk
i'd love to chat some more if you would

remember - you're fine just the way you are

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Whoever said life is too short is an idiot
It's the longest damn thing anybody ever does

I'm not completely sure how to help, but one thing that may help is taking things into a different perspective. Yes, I know not everyone is you, and they have different views, but trust me, your views are probably similar to others (aside from those of yourself).

When you see someone that you would consider ugly, how do you respond? Probably not very harshly. The only time I notice people pointing out other people's flaws is when they are drawing attention away from flaws that they think they have.

The above is true especially with minute details, which seem very clear to yourself. Think about it like this: if you saw someone that had one of your "flaws," what would you think? Would you notice it?

As for your accent, there are ways you might be able to get rid of it. But really, a lot of people enjoy accents (including me). If you want, I could even help you pronounce the sounds you have problems with, if your accent bothers you.

Hey, that was a lot longer than I thought I could come up with. PM me if you need anything else (or even just reply here), and/or if you would like to take me up on my offer to try to help you with your accent.

Good luck!

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Post edited at 8:11 pm on Nov. 16, 2006 by smasness

As for how you get over it, it takes a lot of work.  It was good to confront your grandma, but you don't just defeat your demons once and then it's done.  You defeat them one day, and then the next, and the next, and you keep having to battle those feelings and demons until you figure out how to do it every day.  

After a while, it gets easier.

One mistake though that you shouldn't make is to depend upon people hearing your story and getting th epity and good compliments.  I used to do that ALL the time, and it didn't help at all.  

Don't listen when people tell you how handsome you are, or how great a person you are for making through it.  Pity and those compliments are more addictive than any drugs.  They turn into a crutch you have to lean on all the time.  

Learn to stand on your own without any compliments or sympathy.

Post edited at 8:18 pm on Nov. 16, 2006 by smasness