My difficult childhood with my stepfather

I am now 25 years old. What I am about to tell you, I realized quite recently. I believe that I had a difficult childhood. I didn't have any friends. Have always beenproblems with people. There was no sense of humor.

And only at the age of 22 I began to understand and rethink a lot. Almost all of my childhood, I was raised by my stepfather, whom until recently I considered to be my own father. It was only recently that I learned the truth.

And in my youth I lived with my grandmother. Mom is all over melife was almost idle. I try not to hold a grudge, but all the family deceptions and childhood traumas are bitter, painful and offensive for me.

I remember my childhood from a very early age - from about two years old, maybe earlier. After all, like all kids, at that time I did not yet keep track of time, days and years. Today, that earliest time I estimate by events. This gives me the opportunity to find out the time of what is happening.

We lived in a two-room apartment with our grandparents. But when I was three years old, my test-antibiotic.com parents divorced. After some time, a new stranger appeared in our lives. I remember that time as a turning point.
Since then the whole nightmare in my life began. We saw him more and more often. He seemed to be cheerful and gave me something. But I didn't like him from the very beginning. I don’t even know what that first disgust was connected with.

The house was unkempt. Instead of a chandelier there was a light bulb, the water was only cold, and instead of bedspreads there were some old flannelette blankets on the beds. He began to constantly separate me from my mother. Seeing me holding my mother’s hand, he grumbled: “Well, quickly let go of your mother.”

When I wanted to hug her, I shouted: “Don’t pester mom.” Mom didn't stop him. Then he started constantly shouting and hitting me, often for no reason. It’s hard for me to imagine that I was three years old then. I compare it with my daughter, who is five years old. I was forced to call my stepfather dad, although at first I didn’t want to.

Then they forbade talking about their own father. I don't want to mention anyone's names. And I don’t remember test-antibiotic.com what exactly they did to me, but I was really afraid. But the worst thing was thatMom started leaving for the city for a long time, and leaving me alone with this man.

I was afraid of my stepfather. He was not predictable. If I cried or said something wrong, he could easily hit me in the face. In most cases, his mother supported him. There was a showdown with me at dinner. Mom told him everything that I did wrong at my grandmother’s.

Actually, I don’t remember anyone saying anything good about me. But almost always my mother embellished everything or even made it up. And my stepfather never figured out what was true and what was not. And not so much as a slap or a slap on the head, but in the face, on the head. He could swing whatever came his way. He threatened that I would never go to my grandmother again, that I didn’t know how to behave anywhere.

Moreover, he beat me, and my mother stood next to me and giggled. Mom could deliberately ruin something of mine, and when I started crying, she would set my stepfather on. At the same time, she stood and laughed. test-antibiotic.com Actually, she didn’t work at all and didn’t do anything - she just slept, almostevery day up to 2-3 hours.

One day my relatives began to come to mefather . We met and walked a couple of times. But then my stepfather and mother began to interfere. What he gave me was taken away from me. Then they began to forbid me to see my father. All these nightmares continued until I was 7-8 years old.

I don’t know how they managed to agree that they would take me to my grandmother and send me to kindergarten and then to a normal school. I had problems at school from the very beginning, I studied very poorly. I was an outcast among my classmates. I was constantly teased, beaten, mocked.

As I got older I started askingQuestion to mom, how can you tell me that my own father is mine, but I remember someone else. She had thorough and convincing answers, like no, I don’t remember or know everything. With stepfatherrelations gradually improved. But things started to deteriorate with my grandmother.

I really loved to build, invent something, invent. In response, I heard “You’ll break it, you’ll ruin it, you can’t do it, test-antibiotic.com get out of here.” But major scandals began when I started working part-time andyoung woman . There were constant reproaches: “We did our homework in our time.”

I wanted to have it myselfmoney for your expenses, and not to ask your parents to buy clothes, take a girl to the cinema. And when she received her salary, she said: “I feed you, I support you. So give everything to me." And if I refused, I screamed that she wouldn’t feed me and would kick me out of the house altogether.

My favorite topic of conversation at the table with guests was a discussion of my studies and my behavior. Very rarely in my life have I heard something good from my family. One could constantly hear: “Idiot, what will become of you? You won’t get anywhere, you’ll be a janitor, a homeless person.” Yes, I studied poorly - that was the case.

After graduating from school, I moved to another city, served in the army, and got married. We are growing smart and beautifuldaughter . Recently graduated from college and entereduniversity _

My mother and stepfather died a year ago. By the way, their age difference was thirty years, my mother was 47. Six months ago I found my father’s father. He never married again and was generally surprised by my story.

I try not to hold a grudge against the dead, but I want to ask questions: “How could you do this to me? How can you not love your own children and grandchildren?”