An Aspergian Sheds Some Tears, And Light, On His Personal Abuse Story


Coming down off the high of reaching 100 posts, I’ve decided to share a little personal story for my post tonight. It’s not a poem, because I struggled to think clearly long enough to write anything that made sense. I will probably write a poem later and post that, but not tonight. Tonight, I just want to write.

This happened about eight or nine years ago, when I was ten or eleven years old. I’ve always been protective of my sister, and still am, but at that age I was constantly defending her from my dad. He was abusive, and still is, although more emotionally than  physically. Anyway, he was teaching us some math concepts and my sister was getting them at all. He ignored her, and kept making her do something she clearly didn’t understand. I ignored it at first, remembering the advice my Dad used to give me, which I would learn later to e the worst advice you could give an aspergian:

“Stay in your box”

As I watched my dad continue to distress my sister, I began to feel angry. As I discussed in a post earlier, you know how anger was a problem for me in my childhood. Well, as I saw my sister’s frustration turn to tears, the rage boiled over. I jumped out of my seat and told him to leave her the hell alone. A narcissist as well, he got angry that he was losing control over the situation. Rather than admit his own error, he punished me by sending me to my room.

“Little bitch,” I yelled as loudly as I could. I mean, was I wrong? Probably, especially for calling him a bitch, but I didn’t know how else to describe his behavior towards my sister. I didn’t know what Aspergers or narcissism was, at the time.

What happened next would be a life changer.

I sat in my bed, still fuming about what had happened. I knew in my soul I wasn’t wrong, yet I also knew that calling someone a bitch isn’t exactly the most constructive way to get a point across.

Then it happened.

I don’t really remember what happened, but all I remember is being trapped under my bed as he’s punching me. In the stomach. In the groin. My arms. My legs. I couldn’t stop him, and I couldn’t fight back. I was screaming and crying and everything. I felt less than an animal. I felt worthless. I closed my eyes and just wished that one moment it would be over. I don’t remember what his face looked like, because I was too frightened by the commotion and everything happening to me.

“I’m only going to stop so I don’t hurt you”

That’s when he stopped and left me. I was still shaking and crying. Everything hurt. I had bruises all over, too. Worst yet, I was torn inside. I never thought a parent could turn on a child like that. Did all parents do that? Was it normal? I felt miserable for days, not telling my mom, as she was the only one who wasn’t home. I hated my parents for a long time after that, and my relationship with my dad has been nonexistent ever since.

That remained true until a few months later, when I had my checkup. My doctor noticed that my testicles were more elongated than usual. After some tests, and uncomfortable questions, it turned out that I had suffered a hernia. I told my doctors and my mom that it was from moving some furniture earlier, but only I knew the truth. It was from the abuse of my dad that hurt me, and I didn’t just have an emotional scar. I had a physical one, too. Everything’s better now, and I’ve had no setbacks or flare-ups, but the doctors said that the testicle will always hang lower on one side than the other. The was the worst, most crushing part. I would have to live with this scar, this memory of pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

I would have to live with this for the rest of my life.

(Follow me @marylandpoet if you want to read more of my poetry, and be sure to check out my work at Stay tuned for a poetry piece on this traumatic incident.)


28 thoughts on “An Aspergian Sheds Some Tears, And Light, On His Personal Abuse Story

  1. I love your honesty. And I know what it feels like to question the way you did. I used to wonder if I was alone or others went through things too. I knew it was wrong. I’m sorry that you went through that but the way I look at my own life is – it partly made me the badass that I am. I will never let anyone make me feel bad about myself again. I hope you feel that way too, because I can already see that you are amazing. Smart – honest – and accepting of things most never could

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This made me very sad to read, at the injustice of how you and your sister were treated. Childhood trauma has extremely long lasting effects on the psyche, and your social communication difficulties and the intense way you experience emotion wasn’t known about back then, so you never received the necessary reparative healing experiences, nor did you understand that your aspergian ways made it even more difficult to tolerate abuse of this kind. ASD adds an extra layer of difficulty. Abuse from a parent is so hard to reconcile, as we believe it is normal, that our parents are never wrong, and we mistakingly believe it must therefore be our fault that this horrible thing happened. Have you had any professional psychological support to help you deal with and process this traumatic experience? I hope so. I’m really glad you blogged about this. Good job Mr ❤👍

    Liked by 2 people

    1. So much truth inside you, Summer. I agree one hundred percent. And no, I haven’t had any professional help. I haven’t told anyone else what really happened, because I feel deep shame about the event. It’s still something I struggle to cope with.


      Liked by 2 people

      1. I read your poem too, which was FAB. I’ll comment on that properly later. I can well imagine how you’d be struggling a lot to deal with this. These kind of things leave an indelible impact. You can email me if you wanna chat about it sometime?

        Liked by 1 person

  3. My condolences to your grieving past, I had similar experencies as you and I’m so very glad you stood up to him because I couldn’t do that, I was too afraid of everything. It was only when I reached my younger adolescent years that I stood up to him and got him off my back for good. The key was to be strong, and untouchable. The instant you recieved such abuse, no matter what adult looks at it, you should have mentioned it to your mother if you were on the friendly side with her. But, who am I to say, I would hide in the corner and wait for him to leave. Anyways, you’re a courageous fellow! Looking forward to reading your poetry.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. There are no words in response to this. It’s one of those posts that leaves me staring at the screen, trying to get my head around what I just read. Take care, Frazier. This must have taken a lot of courage to share with us. I’m looking forward to reading your poem.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. It good you’re being transparent. It may help someone else in the future. I know a thing or two about abuse. It’s more common than not, it’s most devastating when it’s psychological. Wounds will always heal, maybe not the way you’d like them, but they do heal. Psychological warfare/abuse takes a long time to recover from. I’m 32 and it wasn’t until 2 1/2 -3 years ago I’ve healed from the abuse that I suffered. It takes a lot of time and patience to forgive and forgive one’s self for not being able to stop the craziness swirling in our lives as children.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Sometimes it’s good not to forget. I say that because someone will cross your path with the same mentality as your dad, be it a woman or a man. You’ll be able to spot people like him in an instant and keep your distance. I have to admit, I haven’t forgotten, not because I don’t want to, people with the same personality keeps showing up in my life and I go around them. I don’t have time to waste on toxic people. The sting of the abuse is no longer in my life but I still keep my eyes open.

        Liked by 2 people

I'm interested in hearing what you have to say

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s