You've been Adopted  -  You've been Abused but you were too young and too afraid of repercussions to report

Statistics tell us abuse in adoption is not a problem.  But we lived the problem.  Because there's no record, your abuse never existed - only the ones that kill or die seem to count.

Help us challenge the statistics to reflect our reality by registering

(either anonymously, under pseudonym, or real name)

  • Fill out an Abuse Case File once you have registered
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  • Accept our heart-felt gratitude

Join the adoptees below who bravely expose the truth to spare future children from this unnecessary and preventable fate.


(Abuse Case File)

ildicoe's picture
small town in midwest Ohio
I dont know the date, but was adopted at birth
sexually abused
Mother and adopted father, and foster care

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Your Message
About Abuse: 

Please mothers, keep your babies. I would have chosen to be poor and lived with my true family

About adoption: 

I was adopted through a lawyer who has made it impossible to find anything about my family.
All adoptions should be open, we have the right to know where we come from.

Abuse Case File

Jaivy's picture
western us
male adopter, female adopter, second male adopter (step father)

raped. beaten. drugged. roofied. eating out of trash cans.

Your Message
About Abuse: 

When I was 5 according to my friend Jeremy Volman I disappeared. I also have a memory of being inside a canvas bag like the kind they used to use for putting large quantities of potatoes, or pounds of manure into. I remember a conversation about rohypnol, and I remember being place into some sort of vehicle when I was very young... five or six. This is when I was still in touch with Jeremy Volman... a boy I went to kindergarten with.

When I was in sixth grade I remember quite a bit more about a similar event.. but this time I remembered more details. I remember being taken somewhere to have polio braces put on my legs. The doctor didn't think I had polio, but my male adopted guardian, Kevin Carr seemed conviced I did, and the doctor decided to listen to him. My male adopted guardian is a Mac tool distributor.

The details are fuzzy and many people.. including friends and family believe this is all made up. There are some facts which you may be able to verify. After the polio braces were put on my legs, I was told that my parents were going to pick me up outside in front of the doctor's office. For some reason I remember that office being very close to where a photography studio is now. But as I was walking out it felt like I was in a different city and in a different place... I guess now they have a label for this and it's called PTSD. I still suffer from this today... but I've learned how to cope with it over the years.

I remember having a small pair of blue pants on that were now too small for me to wear. I remember having a white hat with an anchor on it that my step-dad (step adopted guardian) "Guy Gomes", and my female adopted guardian, "Patty Gomes" gave me as a gift. Her name had recently changed from "Patty Carr" to "Patty Gomes" after their marriage in Hawaii. After I walked out a vehicle pulled up next to me like the people inside knew me... but I didn't know them or the vehicle.. They opened the door and a woman and a man were inside. I looked confused and they told me to get in and that they were going to give me a ride to my "dad's". The only dad I knew was my adopted male guardian. The woman looked familiar to me like she was a friend... but I didn't know her and she didn't introduce herself to me.

Throughout the years after this event I have suffered many problems... For one... I have no proof that I'm adopted. If you look at my birth certificate it has two names listed on it that are no blood relation to mine. Aside from this I also have a problem with people being interested in my family but it's always felt like I have had none... Friends have pretty much disappeared as well as they hunt for money or women. I think the rundown for my situation is that I"m a lost cause. When I was reconnected with my biological mom my male guardian told me he had his sister's husband find a private investigator to find her again. This is a little confusing to me as they both knew the same lawyer that "helped" with the adoption papers, and they both knew each other's names... and probably the last names and locations where a simple phone book would have been an easy way of finding each other.

After I got into the van, and as they called me a heavy sack of shit as they "helped" me into it... I remember two large arms being placed around me.. one to stop me from moving, and another to place a rag over my mouth. It's taken me about 20 years to remember this... I have had very little support around me, and with people in my life in on this kind of abuse... I have had more problems than I've known how to deal with alone.

I remember being stopped in the back of a vehicle that was different than the one they picked me up in. And I remember a voice that sounded like it needed to check the back of the vehicle in order to move through. I remember being rolled in a type of hospital gurny, and also being strapped down with the braces still on. I remember waking up outside and it looked like a desolate piece of land aside from the building that looked like it was mostly underground. I remember feeling like a large rhino was on top of me.. sometimes two of them as the weight crushed my body. I was only about 12 at the time. I remember them smoking what I now think is crystal methamphetamine.

I remember my arms being strapped down as I tried to flail about in my drug induced stooper and raping. I remember my "mom's" face as she stared at me with murder in her eyes as she nearly broke my fingers. I remember my legs feeling they were going to break themselves as they tried to twist out of the braces as I was being fucked in the ass as a twelve year old under the influence of rohypnol. I remember a man with a small baton with a steel fist on the top of it he would use it to crunch up crystalline meth in a plastic bag. I remember a video of someone else, or myself being raped while they were under the influence of a drug that takes away your ability to move. I remember my mother's voice saying "I hate you sage. I hate your name" as she did something terrible to her... I remember my mom's voice telling me "oink, oink" as she pointed at me and held up her nose like I was pig. I remember my mom skin as she forced me to ingest crystal meth. I remember going very cold and dying as they found a defibrillator and brought me back to live because of the physical abuse. I remember two sets of eyes as my body flailed about because of the pulses running through my body. I remember my mom looking at me like she was trying to pretend to care, but inside it looked like she wanted to see me die. I remember a small girl's voice yelling for help. I remember my mom telling me to like the name "ken, hobbits." I remember her and the man telling me that they murdered my dad, and that kevin helped. That they used all manner of weapons including strangulation with a plastic bag. I've never met my dad. I remember being given rohypnol again and again... to the point where I had a hard time breathing. I remember waking up and seing two figures that looked like they were going to hurt me as I was strapped down. I remember now that the figures sometimes didn't move and that they were really just mannequins in clothing that looked familiar. I remember being forced fed chicken and smoke. I remember them saying... if not confessing that they murdered my dad and that "your dad helped." I still don't know if my biological Dad is alive or dead. According to Jane Hennessy (now Jane Zeimantz) his name is Geoff Brown.

I was thrown out of the vehicle… I tried to stay awake as it became darker outside, and laying on the dirt ground was really cold for my twelve year old body. A car drove past.. and they started talking to me about what I was doing. I was barely cognizant.. but I remember being in the car with them and feeling safer. I remembered the address of Kevin’s house and told them the address in Magalia, CA. I didn’t want to go back there, and they seemed to understand that, but I couldn’t explain or remember why I didn’t want to go back there.

When I was brought back to him I think the police showed up soon after. They seemed to get a feeling from me that I was raped, but they couldn’t figure it out. I recently called 911 about this murder and rape history but I haven’t heard back from them.

My male adopted guardian, and my step-male adopted guardian met after the next few days… and my clothes - with the anchor hat were now missing. My braces were off… but my step-male adopted guardian never even saw them on as far as I remember. I went back to school soon after still with scrapes and bruises on me, and my vision still partially blurred from the rohypnol. My friend Josh Allison and I had a conversation after I returned to school and he basically said I looked like a piece of shit. This was kind of how it went with my friends after this even 20 years later. I guess memory is a fickle thing when serious drugs are in play.

Throughout the years after this event I have suffered... and treated unfairly. My male adopted guardian once inferred to me that working an ice cream shop was hard work. Or working construction was too hard of work. Also, again, I have no proof that I was adopted. And this person has always been my “dad.” If you look at my birth certificate it has two names listed on it that are no blood relation to me. Aside from this I also have a problem with people being interested in my family like it's more important than me... this makes me feel nuts because it's always felt like I have had none... Friends have pretty much disappeared as well as they hunt for money or women or look at me like a lost cause and there's nothing to talk about. When I was reconnected with my biological mom my male guardian told me he had his sister's husband, Robert Hanger... find a private investigator to find her again. This is a little confusing to me as they both knew the same lawyer, and they both knew each other's names... and probably the last names and locations where a simple phone book would have been an easy way of finding each other.

When I reconnected with her it felt like the first thing she said to me as she looked at me with a stupid look on her face... "he doesn't remember?"

My female guardian seemed like she seriously hater her when she met her again.. And I remember her calling her a meth head.

I was adopted at birth. From that day I have had family abandonment issues. My ADOPTORS , told me two times in my life that i was "adopted." which sometimes I'm surprised they bothered to tell me. I think my new adopters didn't love other people's children. In general I see that people don't enjoy their children enough. When I was about 4 they sat me down and said:
Adoptors: "Son. You were adopted. Do you know what that means?"
ME: "No." ( I was in kindergarten or 1st grade when they said this. )
Adoptors: "it means we love you." : "Yes it does." .. ..

Before, and afterwards I was always introduced to others as "This is MY SON." It always sounded like he owned me.

My male adoptor asked me again when I was in high school. “You know you were adopted right.” I had the memory of the above go through my head, and then I responded.

I knew I wasn't their blood after people started telling me I didn't look like my family. But I never looked up the definition of the word.
29 years old and I FINALLY think to look up the MEANING of the WORD that has set me apart for better or worse. You'll never imagine the ignorance i've felt and the mental problems caused by my adoptors because of their emotional abuse when I was in kindergarten, and then again in high school. Finally when I was 29 i looked up the definition for adopted.

"to be taken by choice"

No one ever told me i was an orphan… (lol… actually I think the govt sanctioned term is the child voluntarily placed for adoption.) Try not to sidestep around the terms.

taken from http://www.thefreedictionary.com/orphan
1. Orphan
a. A child whose parents are dead.
b. A child who has been deprived of parental care and has not been adopted. (apparently in this definition quoted from freedictionary.com parental care means being adopted. read the following and decide for yourself if it is parental care? )

Here's why etymology is important: See the definition from freedictionary again.

when i was in KINDERGARTEN my male adopter, and my female adopter YELLED and SCREAMED at each other . My female adoptor's mother - my "grandguardian" would hold me and shake me telling me “their fighting over money”. this battle of money continues still as I battle for peace in my life.
When I was in kindergarten, I was LEFT HOME ALONE once. Both of my adopters never bothered to make sure a babysitter was around. I was only 5 years old… and I thought I was going to die as my heart got weak. I hid behind a chair because I was AFRAID of the TV. Later I would learn my male adopter committed ADULTERY with a fellow CHURCH goer - who also was the MOTHER OF MY BEST FRIEND. around that same time i had been left home alone. My male adopter told me that my childhood best friend was going to be my NEW BROTHER and that his mom would be my MOTHER. Because the two adulterers were now suddenly feeling married even though a wedding had not taken place.
My BEST FRIEND at 5 years old is sitting with me in the living room and my male adoptor comes out of a room with his NEW wife to be.
"You two are gonna be brothers now"
As a newly adopted orphan I felt awesome to have someone my age to share my pain with. I didn't really miss my female adoptor because she was afraid of my sleeping patterns as when I was a child in the cradle for some reason, plus I WASN'T WANTED by my MOTHER at the beginning of my life anyway. And I’m pretty sure that my male adopted guardian decided to start fucking my biological mom.. even though she didn’t want to see me unless it was to fucking rohypnol or rape me… or tell me that she murdered my dad.
A few DEPRESSING days later my ORIGINAL Female adoptor, who is technically still married to someone else is SCREAMING and YELLING at my first male adoptor .. meanwhile I listened and now i remember that i had then recently finished kindergarten
My first female adoptor comes to pick me up even though she hated me..

"get your nintendo if you want it".
"i don't know"

"bring it"

My ORIGINAL female adopter moved me into a house 30 miles away from the house of terror, and I never saw my little 5 year old friend EVER AGAIN. AND THEN a court battle took place where my male and female adoptor fight for the right to own me just like when I was born.
check out the etymology of this word ORPHAN. Maybe you can understand what I'm talking about here:
MY ADOPTORS DIDN'T WANT TO BE AROUND EACH OTHER so they put me in the middle of their verbal fighting. Imagine my emotion when no one really wants to be around each other, at birth and even after... "here I am, i've been born in this world, and IT MUST BE MY FAULT." - 6 years old now… and feeling this way already. I've been so ignorant for the last 29 years the emotion is indescribable. None of my future “friends”, would ever know about this story until 23 years later.
At the court proceedings I was LEFT OUT of the courtroom disputes... and brought in to the judges chambers at the very end. The judge asked ME, in HIS COURT CHAMBERS "who do you want to be with?". I thought about my male adopter... and then the judge said "you want to be with your MOTHER!!! right?"
I thought about my "dad" too. I called him, (pause) “dad” because I was always introduced to others as “this is my son. “ So I told the judge:
"Yes". I wanted to be with her. I thought I would eventually be with both of them - The JUDGE's decision. "Your going to live with your (pause) mother"
Thanks for clarifying the terminology mr Judge sir. . Which one's my (pause) mother again?

So now I'm an a child unwanted by one single mother - orphanized, adopted by a couple who hate each other and who's male adoptor hate fucks other mens wives outside his own marriage - and given to yet another single mother, and also LOSE my best friend or “brother” for the rest of my life.. Whoopee for me. GUESS what happens next.
I wake up at night having to go pee in my new female adoptor's home 30 miles away from my forgotten little brother. It's night time and I WALK by my female adopter's bedroom only to see her being fucked by her new boyfriend who happened to be a male nurse at the local hospital - was his name. I might as well have been directing a porn movie at the age of 6. Go ADOPTERS! I'm glad i'm in your SEX HORROR show as a CHILD. Guess what kind of future I'm gonna have. TAKE A BIG GUESS.. Meanwhile my female adoptor jumps off the bed and holds a stinky finger to my mouth "shhh... don't tell anyone about this ok" as she sniffles something back.

Here is why I hate shopping. Almost everytime I would go shopping with my female adoptor and I would start crying she would hit me in the face, or take me to the bathroom and hit me harder.

Here is why I HATE CLEANING. Everytime my female adoptor would come home and find me alone she would make sure I had cleaned the house or I would get another “spanking” as she called it. Often there were large KITCHEN UTENSILS involved in the beating. After she would say “this hurts me more than it hurts you”, or “I'm sorry.” and cry. After awhile I BECAME USED TO IT, and I didn't care about the physical abuse, so she eventually stopped using me as beating bag for her emotional problems, but that wasn't until high school. I was punished for cleaning the house for her.
Here is why I hate calling people on the phone. I, ME, I was the ONE that had to CALL to NEGOTIATE a meeting at a PHYSICAL location so that MY PERSON could be shared between the female and male adoptors. You'd think I would enjoy calling my “friends.”... but after losing my “brother” at age 5 I have some emotional problems understanding friends, couples, children, and pretty much anyone who hasn't been at least somewhat abandoned at a young age.
Here is why I hate to use a pen or pencil. When I was learning to write my female adopter would hit me in the face with her hands. When I tried to draw she would tell me it wasn't good. When I tried to play music she would tell me I would never be good at it.
Not to mention that I was punted from house to house, couple to couple, school to school.. and it was IMPOSSIBLE to stay in touch with any of the people who called themselves my “friends.” I was INCREDIBLY motivated by MONEY because I thought it would fix the problems I had had at a young age. They didn't want to stay in touch with me… Never was sure why. I remember I though I was the one making them sad for reasons I couldn't understand. At one point when I was VERY YOUNG - before I was a teenager they took me to see a psychologist for being so depressed at a YOUNG AGE, but they didn't want to give me pills and they didn't like the doctor. I don't remember what was said, but I imagine it went something like the above where I'm his son and this is what's happening at school. My male adopter would ask "Matt, why are you always so depressed? (pause) Is it me?" That decision to find me mental CHANGED after I came back to the butte area after I finished a university degree in Santa Barbara… It became a your problem, or the institutional problem… It wasn’t until I was 32 that they decided to start addressing the problem and place me in axis 2 PTSD. My entire life from 24 to 31 has been harassment by men in authority positions at hospitals, police officers for being homeless… and psychiatrists who want me to take drugs that don't help the ultimate problem. I have always been harassed to the point where I needed an attorney , but I've never been able to do that for myself and none of my "family" has seen the problems or wanted to address them.
While I was in 1st grade some of the teachers grew worried and checked me for bruises, but the situation at home had momentarily improved.. even though a few weeks earlier I had bruises to show them under my shirt.
1 police call - 1 fire dept call
also, a police "checkup" call
another a police "checkup" call on ( Tuesday the 26th 2013 in the afternoon)
Another Police checkup call in Los Angeles at a hotel. From there I was transferred to hospital against my will because of a phone call by my male adopter to the fire dept. I've been to 3 jails throughout california on various charges… I have stayed at a board and care facility… at least 4 long term stay motels… i have been to over 7 different mental institutions, and given drugs that caused me temporary tardive dyskensia… where in fact I could not control the muscle movements of my body… i've had many problems with psychiatric drugs… like weight gain… insomnia… drooling… depression… numbness.. hangovers… memory problems… problems sleeping… morning sleep sickness…. yet the problem still seems to me not taking my medications.
I've felt that my professional life has greatly suffered as a result of these events even though I always did well in school… in fact I have a bachelors degree, and have a deep love for art. However, my social skills have been a hinderance as I’ve always been that guy known for being “a lost cause.” And my emotional problems have caused me relationship problems with girlfriends. I haven't had a long term girlfriend since I was 18. And that was only for 6 months.

About adoption: 

check out the history on orphan trains to get some idea of what i think of this. my vote is for optional preventative prison.

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Christine's picture
I was born on Sept,13, 1974
cheap fake watches
my adopted parents, and the system that placed me for adoption

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Your Message
About Abuse: 

Children are a gift- HONOR that gift, love them. cherish them. recognize how beautiful they are.

Abuse Case File

synobia's picture
July 29, 1976 (according to adoption file)
Wonju, South Korea
December 1976

As a toddler, I was diagnosed with ADHD and given Ritalin, which made me catatonic. After taking me to another doctor, my adopters learned that I was actually a precocious child who was desperately bored. It was recommended that I be placed in a school for gifted kids, but my adopters declined to do so. My female adopter revealed to me that she just wanted me to be "hers." She was also an animal hoader who kept cats, dogs, guinea pigs, and a pig inside the house as well as a hoader of objects that overwhelmed the 1-story ranch style house in which I grew up. The pet dander, excrement, and dust was suffocating and made it hard to breathe. I was often sick. My female adopter also told me that I was mixed-race: the child of a prostitute and a soldier. If I had stayed in Korea, then I too would've become a prositute. My male adopter beat me with belts, paddles, and his hands. I was raped when I was 16 years old, and my adopters didn't believe me and thought I was only trying to get attention. This situation drove me to a suicide attempt. I left this house at the age of 17 to go to college. (I studied hard throughout this abuse in order to escape my adopters and the racist town where I grew up.)

Your Message
About Abuse: 

I was the child that my adopters couldn't physically create. Yet 7 months later, their bio child was born. They decided to keep me.

The abuse that I sustained throughout my childhood emerged because I wasn't the child that my adopters chose. They couldn't understand why, despite how they raised me, I was different, and so they felt a combination of revulsion and desire toward me.

To heal, I've had to unlearn much of the abuse's wounding and to emancipate myself from my adopters. I've broken off all contact.

On the outside, I look like an "adoption success story" -- accomplished, professional, etc. -- but on the inside I am a survivor who struggles sometimes to feel safe and who is still deeply scarred from my adopters' "good intentions."

About adoption: 

Adoption is abuse. It does not address the socio-economic problems that have made the child vulnerable in the first place, and in fact, it entrenches them even further by victimizing mothers in the belief that middle-class heteronormative families can cure social ills. It is a form of race and class-based eugencis targeting poor/brown/single women for the elevation of white middle-class married women.

In 1976, my white adopters took out loans to pay almost $1,000 to purchase my body. White privilege trumps class.

I am against adoption. If you have a lot of love to give to the world's children, then urge communities and governments to address the structural violence that separates families. Adoption is a corrupt business seeking to perpetuate itself, and it's the children who suffer and who can't speak out.

Abuse Case File

angelanorthville's picture
Angela Steele
June 10, 1980
Bar Harbor, Maine
Battle Creek, Michigan
Ramona Delores Steele/Wizner and Charles Edward Steele

     From 1982 - 1998 My sisters and I were beaten with leather belts that would leave bloody welts, swung around by our hair like ragdolls, stabbed with pencils when trying to do homework. We were reminded every day of our "worthlessness" . We were constantly told that our AP'S(adopted parents) wished they had never adopted us- they should have adopted the Asian kids; because they wanted a boy. We were told that we were bastards born in sin, and that God would never love a bastard... My sisters and I had to live this duality; going to church and having to sing Jesus loves me in front of the entire congregation; knowing that God didn't love us(according to holy mona). My Amom was a nun in the Catholic church before she met and married my Adad.. These people were educated with college degrees and outwardly seemed to be pillars of society.  My Amom was pure EVIL, and my Adad was a passive abuser, who knew what was happening, and that it was wrong but he never did anything to help or stop the abuse.... you can't put a band-aid on a severed limb....!  These people were mentally,emotionally,physically, and spiritually abusive. We were denied medical care/treatment/therapy, were beat almost every day, told we were trash and not worthy of god or life. We were never hugged, kissed, or given any positive praise or kind words of encouragement.

Your Message
About Abuse: 

     Abuse is not something that goes away, as a small vunerable/impressionable child who is subjected to a lifetime of torment by the people who are supposed to love, and protect you it leaves you broken, and most adoptees have already been broken, that's why they are in the system. To any individuals looking to adopt know that these children are already scarred by a past you probobly know nothing about(I think placement/$ are more important to agencies than actually finding the right family, and giving accurate background info, that might potentially help a broken child heal).  I think it should be mandatory that people looking to adopt undergo psychological evaluations, and follow ups need to continue with social services yrs after adoptions to ensure that the children are healthy and flourishing in their homes/enviroment; why are the children at the center of adoption without voices? The unfortunate events that have transpired in my lifetime have inspired me to help these voiceless children; I am pursuing my BA in psychology so I may be an advocate for childrens rights, and work in social services. To all the abusers: You will be held accountable for your actions; you will be judged by God. " On earth, as it is in heaven..." 

About adoption: 

     Adoption has the potential to be a beautiful thing, for me I was primed to be a serial killer by my AP's because of their abuse/savior complex... I feel like they are lucky I was able to decipher right from wrong; that is why they are still alive. If you have any type of doubt or malice in your heart, adoption is not the answer... These are human beings... not animals! If adoption intrests you, know that it is a one sided choice, and all adoptees are going to have issues regarding bonding/attachment. " Mother is the name of God on the hearts and lips of ALL children."

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rtjv's picture
July 7, 1961
Salt Lake City, Utah
July 21, 1961
West Valley City, Utah
Cherie Lee Vance

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Your Message
About Abuse: 

Abuse of a child, especially one that was hand-picked causes scars that run deeper than the soul itself. No amount of tears shed, can heal those wounds.

About adoption: 

Parents hoping to adopt, should be subjected to a rigorous background check, psychological tesing and interviews, as well as spontaneous check-ups, on the adoptees by social workers. Adoptees should be interviewed periodically and underscore testing to see how they are functioning compared to their non-adopted peers.

(Abuse Case File)

jstone's picture
My name is Jane Stone
I was born in 1942.
discount formal dresses
I was adopted in 1944.
I was raised in Eau Claire, Wisconsin and Chetek, Wisconsin in summertime.
My abusers were Alveretta Atkinson and Mark Atkinson

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Your Message
About Abuse: 

abuse of a child changes that persons life:  violent abuse never "leaves the main room" of that human being who has suffered.  abuse becomes part of who they are, and to me the worst part of it was believing (as a child) that i deserved the punishment, that i was a bad person who could do nothing right and who caused pain toward others.  a child believes what they are told by adults, and their  messages are internalized.  i was in my 30's before realizing i was smart, kind and worthy of being alive.  i was 16 when my son was born.  my adoptive family disowned me, and my son and i were without any other "relatives" besides each other.  i escaped with my son to canada in order to avoid court athorities in u.s., and vowed to never treat my son with anything but respect, love and understanding.  this "abusive conduct" could not be wrought unto my beautiful child.     

About adoption: 

i believe the time has come for adoption laws to be changed, and for the adoptee to be given rights as a human being, from birth.  i believe it is a constitutional right of a human being born in the u.s., to know his or her heritage and his or her birth parents medical issues as well as the reason he or she was given up for adoption.  the way our country approaches adoption hasn't changed by law or by practice, since the 1930's.  why is 100% anonymity given to birth mother, along with 0% responsibility for outcome of placement, whilst the adoptee recieves 0% birth records,  information of their heritage, medical factors, geographical information~ unless at 18 years of age the adoptee wants to try a birthparent search, and then is told to tread very lightly around a "delicate" situation.  when does society "get it" that an adoptee is without any history of their birth, their heritage or their original parents?  

(Abuse Case File)

jstone's picture
My name is Jane Buffington Atkinson Stone
I was born in 1942
I was born in orphanage, Milwaukee, Wisconsin
I was adopted in 1945
I was raised in Atkinson household, Eau Claire, Wisconsin
My abuser was Alveretta Atkinson (mother) and Mark Atkinson (adopted brother)

Abuse i was subjected to:  from 1945-1959: verbal and physical abuse including:  lock-up in confined areas, without food or bathroom for 1 day to 10 days at a time, lashings with wide plastic belt, laserations with knives, right eye split in half, scalding water baths after lacerations when merthiolate would be poured on open wounds until i would loose conscienceness, strangulations until loss of conscienceness, thrown down stairwells, stomped, kicked, head knocked into cement basement walls, etc.. also attempted drownings while at summer home on lake chetek, wisconsin.

Abuse Case. File

wellsg7's picture
March 9 1969
April 73
Dr M Bodmer

Abuse Case File

ma's picture
I was born in December of 1959
I was born in Chicago
I was adopted in Febuary of 1962
I was raised in a suburb of Chicago
My abuser was my adoptive father and mother

  I was sexually and verbally abused by my alcoholic afather on a day- to- day basis. It started when I was about four or five years old. It continued throughout my childhood, and into my early teens until I was strong enough to get away from him. However, he continued to grab at my breast whenever he was near me,  until I was finally able to move out after I graduated.

 At first, my afather would touch me all over. Then he would grab my hand to touch him. It got much worse as time went on. At night time, when I was asleep, he would come in and I would be awaken by his hands touching me and much worse. My amother saw and knew what he was doing to me and my sister, and did nothing to stop it. In fact, she told me never to tell anyone. She said if I told, They would not take him away, they would take me away and, I would end up some place worse. I was young and afraid of what a worse place might be like. I was also afraid of my amother, so I said nothing to anyone.

 My amother was physically abusive to me. She didn't blame me for what my afather was doing to me, but she hated me because of it. I can never remember a time where she hugged or kissed me, but I can remember her anger and violence towards me. I was always getting hit, slapped, kicked, and she loved to grab my hair and pull it out. It went on like this until I was about 13 years old.

Your Message
About Abuse: 

 I know that it is not a pretty thought to think that foster and adopted children have been or are now being abused, but it is a Fact! We as a society need to change a system that is so greatly failing these children.

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my adopted father

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Your Message
About Abuse: 

I would never touch my children as they grew up. I was always afraid I would be like my dad, but thank god i wasn't. I did speed, crack cocaine, and tried suicide twice. I give all my love to my children and grandchildren. I have been clean from street drugs for 8 years. Now I take prozac, sleeping pills, i have anxiety disorder, I am suicidal, etc. My sex life has gotten better, but it took years to get to the place I am now. I hate my brother and my adoptive parents. I just want them to pay for what they have done to me. 

About adoption: 

I wish I had never been adopted. Noone liked me because in the neighbourhood I grew up in were all hottie totties. There was no love in our family, just giving things and spending money. Had to read books to learn about women things, periods etc. Had no boyfriends, ran away all the time, tried to kill myself, took overdose of pills, tried burning the house down, etc.

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my adopted father

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Your Message
About Abuse: 

I would never touch my children as they grew up. I was always afraid I would be like my dad, but thank god i wasn't. I did speed, crack cocaine, and tried suicide twice. I give all my love to my children and grandchildren. I have been clean from street drugs for 8 years. Now I take prozac, sleeping pills, i have anxiety disorder, I am suicidal, etc. My sex life has gotten better, but it took years to get to the place I am now. I hate my brother and my adoptive parents. I just want them to pay for what they have done to me. 

About adoption: 

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Abuse Case File

chateauguay, ormstown, quebec
north bay, ontario, canada
my adopted father

he molested me from the time I was 6 until 18 years old. He took me to his bed saying if I loved him I would have sex with him. Also when ever my mother was gone he would have sexual intercourse with me. When he was drunk he would come to my room. As I got older I would lock the door for my room, but he would have the key. My adoptive mother caught him and blamed me. So did her parents, they gave her and my father heck. Recently, now that I am 48, the molestation was brought up at the church through my brother. I was so mad, After I tried to jump off a bridge, now that the church knows my business. When I went up in 2005, I went to the church and noone even knew that they had a daughter, only my brother. Everytime my brother got, or gets in trouble it is my fault, I have always been the black sheep of the family. Now I am so pissed I want to sue my brother and my father. I also got hangers around my neck, missed my grade eight prom, because of my brother, didn't get to date in high school. Been with three men, one was gay, the second abused me too, and then my now husband and I have been married 21 years come Feb. 17, 2011.  

Your Message
About Abuse: 

I would never touch my children as they grew up. I was always afraid I would be like my dad, but thank god i wasn't. I did speed, crack cocaine, and tried suicide twice. I give all my love to my children and grandchildren. I have been clean from street drugs for 8 years. Now I take prozac, sleeping pills, i have anxiety disorder, I am suicidal, etc. My sex life has gotten better, but it took years to get to the place I am now. I hate my brother and my adoptive parents. I just want them to pay for what they have done to me. 

About adoption: 

I wish I had never been adopted. Noone liked me because in the neighbourhood I grew up in were all hottie totties. There was no love in our family, just giving things and spending money. Had to read books to learn about women things, periods etc. Had no boyfriends, ran away all the time, tried to kill myself, took overdose of pills, tried burning the house down, etc.

(Abuse Case File)

minimelolly's picture
My name is Dawn
Unknown (Approximately 1972)
I was born in VietNam
I was adopted on May 29, 1972 (date issued for birthday)
Most of my childhood was raised in Imperial Beach, CA
My Abusers were my adoptive parents

From as early as I can remember (approx 4-5yrs of age) I lived in fear of my adoptive mother. She was physically & emotionally abusive throughout my entire childhood through my teenage yrs. I was so afraid of her wrath, that anytime in her mere presence, I would try to make myself disappear or blend in with my surroundings to avoid her noticing me in the room. Out in public, all I could obsess about was doing something wrong & her beating the crap out of me & shaming me in front of people I knew. This was done more often than in front of strangers (which was easier to bear). I had very few close friends growing up. Most of my friendships were strictly at school because I couldn't bear to have my school friends knowing my shame & actually witnessing her hit me. I'd rather have died than live with knowing anyone from school seeing her get angry, start screaming mean hurtful things at me, then pulling down my pants, throwing me over her lap & spanking me. It was bad enough in front of strangers, but in front of people I knew was worse and so my childhood was very lonely. Although I prayed everyday for my birth mother to come & rescue me, the few times my adoptive mom threatened to sent me back, I actually would cry & beg her not to because I was (and still am) so afraid of being abandoned again. But so many nights were spent crying myself asleep just praying & begging for God to please let my real mother find me & love me forever. The 1st sexual encounter and very 1st penis I ever touched belonged to my adoptive father. Although he was my sexual molester, I found myself drawn to him to protect me from her. I'd rather endure his unwarranted touches & sex innuendos because he was nice to me & made me feel somewhat safe from her. My mortal fear of my adoptive mom made me closer to my sexual molesting adoptive dad and this has negatively affected every relationship I've ever had.

Your Message
About Abuse: 

Anything/Anyone innocent & helpless, should never have to suffer abuse especially at the hands of those in charge of loving & keeping them safe from harm. No child should ever have to live in constant fear of mommies & daddies that are suppose to protect them. Being a child that grows up feeling unloved and/or unwanted, leaves deep emotional and/or physical scars through adulthood. And even with counseling, these scars never fully go away.

About adoption: 

Anyone adopting a child should know & expect that there will be some sort of baggage (somewhere down the line) involved & had better be ready to accept the responsibility of being a parent to that child. You chose us, we as children, didn't choose you. Don't rob an innocent child the chance to be loved. By taking away someone's chance for a happy life & them having to depend upon you for everything, makes you an enslaver not a parent. Adoption is a choice. If cruelty comes with that choice, then it should be a serious crime, punishable by law, for the adoption alone. The actual abuse would be a different crime upon itself. No 38yr old should have to go through life with scars that run deep because of the person(s) that adopted them. Also, children should be checked in on after an appropriate adjustment period to ensure they are okay.

Abuse Case File

SusieQ's picture
My name is InTheShadowSS
I was born in June 1963
I was born in Los Angeles, California
I was adopted in August 1963
I was raised in Sacramento
My abusers were my Dad, employer, brother and uncle

I was 9 at the time. Dad was so angry from losing his job that he became physically abusive. He was bruising my little brother so badly that Mom had to compress his back and make up stories to tell the teachers. He blackened my eye just swinging to hit anything. I lived in a family of Ostriches. When things go wrong, bury your head in the sand, “don’t air your dirty laundry”. Mom also became afraid of Dad and wanted to leave him but said that she signed a contract to adopt us and would honor that and keep the family together. Mom didn't protect us, and got to where she was leaving every summer to go see her sister. She would take my little sister with her and leave me at home to cook for Dad, work, and deal with the guys. It was like HELL!

At 10, I had to get a job to pay the bills, so I started to babysit for a family. My first remembered sexual abuser, the father of the kids I babysat. David started touching me when I was 12. I wanted to quit my job but feared the wrath of my father. I knew if I didn’t have this job making $56 a week, we would be forced to move from our house. So when I was offered an extra $20 to stay for an hour, I didn’t say no. I let him touch me and make me touch him, and then gave the money to Dad. This continued until I was 15 and David wanted more. I was finally brave enough to quit my job, but I had another job lined up and was never without a job.The summer I turned 15 my big brother raped me. He said since we weren’t blood related, it was okay to have sex. Well, not in my books!! I told Mom that I wouldn't go anyplace with him again, but was afraid to say why. I thought that Dad would call me a liar and blame me, he was always partial to the big Bro. For the next few years, he would wander into my bedroom drunk and want to do me, but I wouldn't allow it. It broke my heart and to this day, I get a sick feeling when I have to talk to him.I moved out of the house on my 18th birthday to live with friends. A couple months later, my Aunt came through town and invited me to live with her. After the first few days of sleeping on her couch, my Uncle woke me up saying he was horny. He said it was okay to have sex because we were not blood related. NOT AGAIN! I kept him off me for a month, then needed a ride. He drove me to a corn field and raped me. I moved to my cousins house to get away, but he had a key and came back for seconds. I went after him with a butcher knife and that is the last time I saw him. He died a couple years ago. I'm also sure he touched me when I was much younger, but the memories are sketchy.

Your Message
About Abuse: 

Just because you aren't blood related to someone, it doesn't give you the right to force yourself upon them and abuse them. Incest is Incest and bruises feel the same to everyone! 

About adoption: 

When you adopt a child, you should protect them at all cost. You may have paid money for them, but they are human beings who are lost and need your love, not your abuse. Protect them!!!!

Abuse Case File

dlhiip's picture
I was born in Feb. 1951
I was born in Va Beach, Va
I was adopted in 1960
I was raised in Virginia
My abuser was in father

Abuse Case file

Redbyrde's picture
Baby Girl Johnson
Kansas City Missouri
January 26, 1961
I was raised in a small town in Kansas
My abuser was my adoptive mother, father, and two sisters

From the time I turned 4, my a parents had their own kids.  At that point in time,. I became known as "that thing" "garbage" and "the trash".  their kids could do nothing wrong, and I could do nothing right.  I grew up thinking I was different than everyone else, and not as good. There was something wrong with me.   I was slapped, called names, kicked, banished, made to wait on their children, and my a mother taught my sisters to hate me and pick on me.  My sister would break things, and call "mommy" and say "See what she did"  She would then stand to the side and watch while I got a beating for it.     Anything I ever had was taken away. I got to when I even heard the word family, my stomach would knot up, and I would be so full of hate.    My first suicide attempt was in 6th grade.  My story is told in more detail on facebook, under the discussion post at "You know you're an adoptee when"   I have two chapters of a book and two poems posted there by Throwaway Johnson

Your Message
About Abuse: 

I don't know what the answer is.  I do know I have been unable till recently to form meaningful attached relationships.   I am hypersensitve, especially to rejection, real or percieved.  I am extremely insecure, and clingy and distant at the same time. My life is full of fear.   When people adopt to fill their own needs, and not to come into a childs life to fill that child's needs, the child inevitably is going to be a disappointment to them.  There is no tie like blood, and it does matter.

Abuse Case File

beyondfabulous's picture
Emerged November 1966
Victoria, British Columbia Canada
December 1966
Both adoptive parents

Sexual, physical and emotional

Your Message
About Abuse: 

Ten years ago I detached from my family of origin. With that act of liberation I began to quiet the rage that had roared inside me like a storm for most of my life. It took me over thirty years to realize that I do not owe anything to these people, these strangers united to me by nothing more than a piece of paper from a court. It was a process that I had no say or input into. A judge decreed that I was supposed to call these strangers mommy and daddy, but I couldn't. I was sentenced to be raised by two people I didn't like. I was left with adults who used me as though I were their toy.

It is always hurtful to lie, but it is devastating and tragic to tell lies to a child. Of all the lies told, the most diabolical lies are the ones told to children. These are the distorted realities that are peddled by adults to children as the truth. I have finally put to rest the lies they told me that I was stupid, worthless and ugly, and that I deserved what I got.

I survived and I escaped. There is light ahead. I have new hope for a joyful life.

Abuse Case File

My name is Ave.
I was born on November 22, 1987.
I was born in Austin, Texas.
I was adopted 19 days after my birth (you can do the math).
I was raised in Austin, Texas and a few small towns in Oklahoma.
My abusers were my adoptive mother and father.
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