I grew up in what seemed to be a normal 2 parent middle-class family. My first memories of what would fortell my future began when I was 4 years old. I can remember that day very clearly, for it was the day my brother was born. Not only was I about to change my only child status, but my brother's birth would be a marking point for the memories to come.
My mother and father are still alive. They are in my life to a certain extent, and I do love them because they are my parents, and that is what you do. My mother was the primary abuser of both my father and myself. She had mental problems that were never treated, and that remains true to this day.
My first memory is being tied up by my mother because I was too hyper, and she was tired from taking care of my brother. I was in a chair, with my hands behind my back, bound to the chair, with a washcloth stuffed in my mouth. I tried not to struggle, but it was just instincts that kept me fighting, making matters worse. This was not the last time this particular situation occurred, and I am almost certain it was not the first time either.
I was too loud, too curious...I was a child.
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