A little boy is belittled by his parents on a daily basis.
I know: I've been there. Years later I still live with the memories, the pain. Emotional/mental abuse can be just as damaging as physical abuse, if not, even more so.
Think about what you say to your child or loved one. You may end up damaging them for the rest of their lives.
"Son, you'll never be as good as your brother."
"Shelden, why can't you grow up for once and act your age?"
"Are you so goddamn stupid? Only a retard would think like that."
"Goddamnit, Shelden, you are the clumbsiest ape on the planet. Get that mess cleaned up now and then get out of sight; I don't want to look at you!"
"I'm disappointed in you".
"Have you brushed your teeth or washed your hands? Because if you haven't you're gonna' get the shit kicked out of you."
The little boy's grey eyes filled with tears as he thought about the words that were said to him, words said to him by his very own parents. He didn't understand why they were so bent out of shape; he'd only tried his hardest to be a good boy.
He couldn't help it if he was physically clumbsy. At age 11 he was as skinny as a post, not much bigger than a minute. He had dirty blonde hair that went every which way, huge grey eyes, a thin often dirt-caked face, and a slender build that belied his eleven years on earth.
He had an older brother, Simoneaux, who was a star halfback on the junior high football team. Even though he was in his last year of middle school, there was already talk of him entering college on a sports scholarship. His parents doted on the older boy's achievements as an athlete; they wre intenseely proud of him.
Shelden was in the fourth grade; he was not very smart in school. School was often a struggle, a huge struggle, for him; while his brother sailed through his classes, the younger boy muddled through difficult assignments, trying his best; but to his parents, his best wasn't good enough. They were always telling him he needed to try harder, or else they called him a stupid idiot whenever he brought yet another bad report card home for them to sign.
Shelden was often teased not only by his peers, but by his own family. His brother called him "Cockroach", and his parents called him "Stupid". "Retarded". "Clumbsy Ox". "Idiot". They repeatedly compared him to his brother, were always on his ass for one thing or another.
If the verbal abuse wasn't bad enough, he also had to endure daily beatings if his room wasn't up to specifications or if he didn't do his chores. He sometimes had to sleep in the basement without any supper; he hated the basement; the boy was scared of spiders; and the basement was full of them.
Eight-legged little critters who spun scary-looking webs near the ceiling or in the dark shadows of the basement itself, he was terrified of them; he was scared that they would bite him.
The little boy had scars crisscrossing his back and buttocks, also his arms, from beatings encurred by his father (he'd hit him with belts, hairbrushes, books, his cane, whatever was available at the time; once he hit the boy so hard the child landed in the hospital). His eyes mirrored years of pain that would not go away anytime soon; he was scared to death of getting yet another beating, so he complied with his parents wishes, silent, not wanting to anger them all the more.
He tried his best to see the good in life; yet the hurt-filled words filled his young brain over and over again. He could not sleep for fear of being awakened yet again by another one of his father's drunken rages.
That was another thing. His father used to work; he was now crippled from an industrial accident, and he spent his disability check on one thing, and one thing alone: booze. Lots of it. There were always empty beer cans or wine bottles strewn on the floor along with cigars or cigarettes, and the house often smelled of smoke, booze, or both.
His mother worked four jobs to try to support the family, but money was tight; it was a struggle to pay the bills on time. Shelden couldn't understand why he couldn't have the finer things in life; he couldn't understand why his friends had I-Pods and computers while he had only his books--and the spiders to keep him company at night, much to his chagrin.
The boy began to see himself as a worthless nothing, and it was during those quiet times when he wished he had a gun or a knife--anything to end the pain that his own family inflicted on him on a day to day basis.
~To be continued.~
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Reviewed by chris stienstra
9/19/2007
So many Sheldens in the world.
So many kids who have to fight for survival every minute of every day. This pulls at my heart as I sit here sending this reply. You have to wonder why.....but, then, some of us are too close and empathize with Shelden's plight.
My very best
Chris
So many children go through life being compared by others, everyone is different are are better in one thing more then another, they are all special and deserve to be loved because they are themselves. Thank you Karla.
Newfie Hugs, Rose
Been there, heard that many many times, when I was twelve I had enough and skip town, never looked back but those words still echoing on my head. I feel for that poor little fellow.
Georg
Reading this young man's story of ongoing abuse is heartbreaking. Not only physical, but mental abuse: words can hurt. You and I know that. Powerfully penned, well done.
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Rovella is a beautiful woman with a cold heart whom blames herself for an unfortunate old family secret that is literally ruining her life. This secret impedes a gorgeous woman from having happiness in her childhood, and throughout her life. Dark sec
A page-turning novel about a relationship between best friends that is interrupted because of betrayal , deceit, sexual promiscuity and pregnancy happens!
