Vent about childhood

I (20f) had an awful childhood. Despite this I turned out fine, I live on my own with my boyfriend, work full time during the summers and go to college classes in the fall and spring + work still.

But lately I really need someone besides my boyfriend to know my life story.

When I tell people my dad’s an asshole, I mean it. I watched him beat my brother (M22) on the couch when I was 4-12. Unable to help, he’d hide knives in the couch and throw us on top in blankets. There was a woman’s head found behind our house and he was the main suspect, I’ve also had the misfortune of seeing him kill animals in front of me, scream, punch, all of it. I’ve watched cheaters cheat, kittens decompose, and seen about 100 cats die to the point I stopped crying because it was sad but known it would happen.

I’ve had my face smashed into the car window. I’ve seen rocks thrown at my dad’s head from my brother. I got told crying made you weak, made my dad look bad. I was 6.

My mom got skin cancer. I got told, “you’re useless just like your mother.” I was 6.

When I was 8, I got in a car accident. I was taken away to CPS 4 times, put to my aunts. She starved us, made us sleep on the floor.

I use to have to ask to eat or bath. My dad had to be there to bath me. That lasted till I was 11. He didn’t bring me to my grandfather when he was dying when I asked, and told me I was awful for not going.

When my mom died. I was 17. She died on a Thursday. I called out of work and my dad yelled at me, because as he said “you’ll be fine by Saturday.”

I’ve watched my dad kill my cats. Give me replacements then kill them.

I worry about myself sometimes. Why am I normal? Why is my brother not? Why did I grow up okay. I’m
Autistic, when my dad found out, he called me a retard. I guess that’s true.

He called me anorexic for not eating. He called me fat for eating. He said I couldn’t be depressed, he said my brother trying to kill himself, made him look bad.

He said my brother was an attention seeker. Trying to ruin his good name. That he wishes he could kill us, because he never wanted children. But he chose to stay, he had more before us. He didn’t stay with them. Why us? Why make us suffer.

I refuse to go to therapy, until my dad dies. Because I have to check to make sure he’s not listening. Even now I worry he can hear me.

I’ve seen him vacuum maggots out of a cat.

I saw him cut that same cat open with a knife to get them.

I watched the cat have seizes and die. I watched a cat decompose under the bed.

I hate my life. My childhood. I hate that this isn’t a fake story, that this is a real fucking nightmare that I had to go through. And that for some fucked up reason I appear to be normal.

I thank my mom for that. I never heard the words I love you from my dad. Never got a hug. When my grandmother (his mom) got dementia he laughed at her for not remembering her dad’s height, or face. He refused to let my mom eat, shower, live- she was blind. She couldn’t walk. I was 6, and I had to take care of her. Me.

I had to.

When she died, my brother dropped me off at the hospital and left. She was alive for 2 minutes then she was gone. They sent 3 counties out to find my dad and my brother because I was 17 alone, with my mom dead. I got yelled at for the cops coming to him.

I got yelled at. For not being strong enough to not cry.

I got yelled at, because I needed somebody, when the only person who loved me was gone. I
Hate my life.

I like where I am now.
But why god. Why. Why did you do this to me.