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When I was 10, my parents divorced and I never saw my mother again. My father, brother and 1 moved in with my father’s parents, and my grandmother became our primary caretaker.
My brother and I had lived for the previous five years in a house of terror where our parents fought and screamed every night, and our mom was passed out on the floor from drinking when we got home from school every day. But even that didn’t compare with the abuse which came from our grandmother.
From day one she resented us living in her home, probably bepause she was 60 years old and had raised only one child, our father. She abused both my brother and me but 1 seemed to be the one she really hated.
She turned us both into her little slaves. I was constantly expected to clean house. No matter how hard we tried, we could never do anything to please her. My brother told me last week, “Even today I sometimes wonder if I’m doing things right all day. She seemed to instill in me and you a terrific guilt complex.”
Every day she told me I was an idiot, a lazy good-for-nothing, and that I would never amount to anything. To try and prove her wrong, I worked extra hard in school, making all A’s. Being in school was the only time 1 was away from her, and the only place I could feel safe.
During summer vacation from school, I was banished to the backyard as a matter of course, where I spent all day every day. She would scream at me, “Get out of my sight!” I’d be lucky
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