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.)
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.
Since I can remember, with my adopters I was physically, verbally and emotionally abused (as well as fondled on my private parts when younger). All I wanted was to love and be loved, but my adopters were more concerned about their image and the embarrassment that I was bringing to them than my emotional well being. If I was myself, the male adopter would hit and threaten me to submission. He was a control maniac. Only he was allowed to express himself, be the smart, humorous and charming one. The female adopter adored her husband and saw me as a fake. They would act like victims and often tell me and my biological sister who was adopted with me that we were killing them. That terrified me and again he exerted his control over me. This still affects me today.
My adoptive father sexually abused me from the age of 4 until 14 years old. He continued to emotionally abuse me until shortly before his death in 1993. My adoptive mother not only failed to protect me after I told her about the abuse, but she also harshly criticized me as well. Her inactions and neglect negatively affected me as much as her actions. I was 26 when she took responsibility for her actions, but I still dont feel that she has fully recognized her role as the abuser or accomplice.
From April 1978 until October 1984 I was sexually and physcially abused by my adopted parents. They both had been found mentally unfit to adopt me but through private adoption were able to get me. I was kept in an attic with no light which was freezing cold in the winter and stiffling hot in the summer. I was starved alot of times as well. I was not allowed in the living room or kitchen except to clean. My life was such a nightmare that sleep became my only friend.
From 1979 to 1983, I was sexually abused by my father. From 1979 to 1989, I was subjected to verbal, emotional and physical abuse by my alcoholic mother. From 1983 to 1989, I was verbally abused by my father.
From approximately 1967 to 1976 I was subjected to on-going sexual abuse at the hands of my father.