The meaningless Cliche' Offered To Those Who dare Disclose The Mentally Crippling Childhood Abuse.
What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger...
....I don't feel stronger or believe that any single victim related circumstances of my abuse lifestyle has benefit me at all.
When abused people begin the process of writing down what has happened to them, The memory becomes concrete and in the present which makes the injustice situation fresh in the mind to deal with emotionally. Especially good for adult adoptees who survived abusive childhoods that were not allowed the arrogance of acknowledging personal feelings. An individual must have worth in the first place to have the state of mind to be allowed acknowledgement from those around them. Adult adoptees that begin the painstaking effort to relive the childhood suffering to gain control of their lifetime of repressed emotions. Childhood brutality and emotional manipulative control is the best place to begin sifting through the pain. The process is not fun in-fact it is an exhausting emotional roller-coaster, to re-suffering each slap in the face, each humiliation. And the reasons why are the most stupid as why a parent bullies a small defenseless child, because they are bigger or not as smart and the perpetrator wants to dominate and control so they can feel power, pathetic power over a child that looks up to them and unconditionally loves them especially when they are beaten by their hand.
As we attempt to cover twenty years of cruelty in writing down the each injustice:
The last thing they need to hear is someone's disapproval, the perpetrator will object, call them a liar and try to make the person attempting recovery think they are insane. Some public forums are not the best place for such personal tragedy in terms of the writer needing encouragement. The writer is acknowledging their inner truth with how the perpetrator has tormented them and needs the entire dialog of what each specific blow has meant to them, in order to achieve perspective.
Readers commenting with cliche' philosophy are not reading the the writer's shaking hands, biting lip so hard that it draws blood, the tears cried so long that the eyes swell shut and crust over, the humiliated bruised soul from which the words were formed but can't be spoken from the deep seeded fear that the mother planted in infancy, cultivated in her child's fear of her wrath and continuously harvests the hatred the mother has for her child in the child's fear that is now manifested as irrational adult fear.
When I read the work done by abusive parents I am in my own protected place as all child abuse hurts me and makes me feel sick. What kind of monster could burn a baby, scald a child hurt an animal it astounds me that I am alive today and not locked up in prison for some hideous crime against all bad cruel and mean mothers. I got even by being kind to my baby's, loving, nurturing and respecting them as unique individuals. I gave freely what a fortune couldn't buy from my cruel handler. The best memory was telling my handler mother that I instructed my children not to respect anyone especially old people if they do not give them respect, and I meant it.