Fists hurt the body, and words hurt the soul: on the site; Me to build; more and more dramatic stories

Perhaps there are few people who, at least once in their life, have not experienced an undeserved insult or humiliation from another person. And not only from a random bully, but also from a close relative or someone who was loved and trusted infinitely. And therefore, mental wounds hurt after decades, even if hematomas have passed and broken bones have grown together. And even if a happy time has come in life, terrible memories, like poisonous thorns, dig into new connections and poison them.

New stories appear every day on the Meni Build website, an anonymous online diary created to support people suffering from domestic violence. Only a few with a happy ending, when the victim of a toxic relationship finds the strength to interrupt them, rare - when external circumstances change them, and in the rarest cases the abusers themselves change. How do you understand that you do not just think that you have become a victim of violence, but in fact it is? Read other people's stories and compare with your own.

I remember my dad wringing my hands and hitting me hard with a belt

I'm 32 and I've lived with it all my life. And, you know, I'm tired. I'm tired of “putting on” a smile and pretending that THIS doesn't hurt, that THIS doesn't affect my life. And at some periods of my life it was, but from time to time it covered and influenced all areas in my life. In the family where I grew up, there was a rule: if we do not discuss this, then it is not, then there is no problem. Therefore, in general, in my life it is difficult for me to talk about such things. And I am very grateful to the project and Masha Efrosinina for the opportunity to write these lines. It helps so much - to know that there are similar stories, to know that there is support and help. This is very valuable.

I read the book "Women Who Love Too Much" and realized how much THIS affects my life. Honestly, I feel like a moral invalid, because the people closest to me hurt me physically and mentally when I could not stand up for myself.

All childhood is in a fog. I only remember it in fragments.

I'm about 3 years old. I am on my stomach, my dad is wringing my hands and hitting me hard with a belt. I don't understand why and why. but it hurts me a lot. At some point, I understand that it is useless to resist and simply, clenching my teeth, look sideways, looking at the patterns on the wall. Until dad came to his senses and stopped. I stutter and can't breathe air. Dad very gently, as if apologizing, tries to calm me down. This is the only time in my life when I remember that he hugged me like dad. I calmed down. In adulthood, this incident left a mark. And it seems to me that "love" can be "earned" after I have been hurt.

Mom is in the next room, asleep, before that she asked me and my brother to sit quietly. We played dots and spoke in whispers. We know that it is better not to make Mom angry or angry. Suddenly mom flies in with a belt and starts shouting at us with all her might that we are noisy. Mom grabs my hand and throws me on the bed, swings and, I don't remember, hits me or not. at some point my brother stands in front of me and protects me. Mom stops and seems to understand that his brother has become stronger and can give change. This is the first time he has mustered up the courage to defend himself. At the same time, I feel guilty that now my mother will "take revenge" on him for his courage in a different way. And the reason for this is me, because he protected me. In the future, before I grow up, I will not be able to deny him anything - neither financial assistance, nor sexual.

The brothers mocked me, but the adults did not believe

I don’t know and don’t remember how it happened, but I had a sexual relationship with my brother. I only remember excerpts. I can't say that in my memories it was painful or I felt violence on his part. And I don’t remember the very first time. I know that it was up to 10 years old and started when I was very little. My brother is 2.5 years older than me. My grandmother came to visit us and she was placed in my room. And I lived in my brother's room. At night, when we were alone, it happened. And once we were "caught" by my grandmother and was shocked. She told her mother, and my mother dismissed what she was making up. And once we went with an overnight stay at my aunt's and there we were "caught" by our older cousin. I remember a passage - he smiles and sits down on the bed with us. Then I don’t know what happened.

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