lost about ten years of my childhood!

[Anonymous]

After a conversation with the missus tonight i really think i need to put to words how i feel!.
Had a few drinks tonight and for some strange reason we started to talk about are childhood memory's, ! Thing is i cant remember most of my childhood from about the age of four until about eight!
It hit me the only memory of these avents are birthdays and Christmas times.
For the love of me i cant remember anything else.
My father left when i was four and my mum is a schizophrenic, there was three other brother and sisters,my point is i have reoccurring dreams that my mother hit me until i cried until i could cry no more then cuddled me until i felt calm again,was this real? as my mum is still loopier than a cinnamon whirl, never talked about this before but ive always had a underlying hatred for my mum! because she is different or ... i don't know
Really pisses me off tbh ive seen the way my treats animals beating then with christmas wrapper rolls and ive had arguments over it, i love my mum but something inside tells me she was a right evil cow to me when i was younger .
I really hope that im wrong tbh .

[Anonymous]

You need to wank those thoughts out of your system.

[Anonymous]

Ignorance is bliss, best leave it alone. Speak to a psychiatrist if you must.

[Ashley]

If your being serious confront her it was wrong and abuse, She needs to be told the way you feel and needs to admit what she did was wrong.

[Anonymous]

Seems this abuse has affected your grasp on maths. Age 4 until 8 is not ten years

[Anonymous]

It hit me the only memory of these avents are birthdays and Christmas times.

Think yourself lucky you can even remember them - I can't. According to my siblings we had a great time. Good holidays UK and abroad (once each every year), new car every year, nice house and friends. But all I can remember is the rows and sitting on the upstairs landing listening to them fight because they were both monumental pissheads and my dad shagged anything that moved. They're both dead now and while I loved them both, I prefer not to dwell on the past and instead use that energy concentrating on making sure my kids don't have to go through that kind of shit.

[super mike]

Four years...

[Anonymous]

I had a similar childhood. My father was murdered by the IRA for dealing drugs out of a Belfast pub in the mid 70's and that drove my mum to drink and anti-depressants. As a result my childhood was a mess. I had numerous 'uncles', who didn't mind giving me a clip round the ear when they felt like it. So, most of the late 70's and early 80's are a blur, but I do recall some things.

Mostly I recall my mum shouting for me from her bedroom, I'd open the door and the curtains would be closed, even during the day and the light would have a strange orange hue due to the garish curtains. She'd be there laid on the bed, her lace nightie riding up her thighs, giving just a hint of her sex. Then she'd beckon me over, whispering it's 'mummy's tickle time'................do I need to continue?

My mum and I now have a very strained relationship and I barely see her, she's old now and bitter too. I've never confronted her about those years, why bother? It's too late now and nothing good would come of it.

[Detector]

any pictures to back up that story

[Anonymous]

My mother abandoned me at a petrol station on Christmas eve. Back in the 70's before the influx of hard working immigrants, many stations were shut over Xmas and boxing day so nobody would have found me until the 27th. However as fate would have it, a pack of marauding wolves came across this discarded bundle of filthy rags and I was raised by them in the heart of the forest. My father, Gbawajh XI was a decent and honourable wolf who never smacked me or treated me any different to his other cubs. We were all taught to howl, hunt and steal chickens from the local farm.

One evening we set off for the Kilpatrick farm to steal some hens when all of a sudden floodlights came on and men with shot guns came running out of the house. "Run" my father growled, but I was paralysed with fear, so he turned back and came galloping towards me. Bang bang!! the force of the lead shot threw him 6ft in the air, and he landed with a bone cracking sound that I will never forget. Then I heard strange noises, which I would later learn were human speech, and a ruddy faced farmer scooped me up and took me inside. The Kilpatrick's raised me as one of their own and I have had a happy childhood ever since. The only link back to my wolf past is the fact cooked meat makes me gag, it has to be raw and dripping with blood.

[Anonymous]

Farmers cock made you gag.