The Childhood

Most people cannot link someone as happy and as naughty as me with an awful childhood.

I had been living in fear since I was 8, until I was 18.

I cannot believe I have lived through these 10 horrible years, I don't know what drove me through, perhaps, my grandma? I don't know.

I was so badly hit by my dad when I was a child, every day, every night, I lived in fear. I could not sleep well, my dad would pull me up at night and hit me.

No, my dad did not have any issue, he was not an alcoholic, nor anything, nothing else except his violence.

I was very naughty and troubled when I was young, he was only punishing me.

That's what I had been telling myself for the past 16 years.

Even though when I was 14, he started telling me he hit me because he needed to take out his anger.

I never believed the relationship between my dad and I could get better, but apparently I was wrong.

My dad and I are in such great relationship right now, sometimes I would even prefer to tell him my life problems than to my mum.

But things happened, like that little thing yesterday.

My childhood is not supposed to affect me anymore, I tried my very best to suppress it.

Hard, but not impossible.

He did not hit me, he did not say anything, he only made 2 loud "hmphs" over the phone.

That affected me better than anything, anyone else.

I am still shaking and shivering thinking about the sound he made, those noises really triggered my memories as a child.

Like I was sitting somewhere, could not move, waiting for him to judge me and hit me, or even punched.

When I was little and my dad hit me, my grandma would protect me with all her might.

Luckily I had her, if not, I would've died when I was a child.

I am dead serious, you don't know how badly I was hit and how injured I was.

I was slapped, caned, hit, whipped, punched and kicked, my body was always covered in bruises, it would be my very lucky day if he stopped before he saw my blood.

He always told me he'd disown me soon as I turned 18. I did not fucking care.

He was my dad, but I never had a dad anyway.

Every day I cried...

True, I was really naughty, lazy, full of lies. I stole stuffs from my parents, grandma or sometimes relatives. I used to think I deserved all those "punishments" but now I know it's too much.

How can you blame a child over these?

I face many children with problems every day, some are lazy, some are full of lies, some steal stuffs, so?

I was kinesthetic, I was curious, I was naughty.

My dad would humiliate me in front of people by telling them those things I did and mocked me in front of them.

Like to my uncle, I could never understand why my dad was in good relationship with him, he was fucking fucking his secretary behind my aunty's back, they even have a son.

My dad's best friend once told him I would become a prostitute when I grow up, my dad happily delivered the message to me.

Yup, they saw me as a materialistic type of person, but I was high-maintenance and that's all.

My dad said I would do anything for money.

Not true, totally, people who know me know that I have too much pride in myself.

Prostitute, whore, whatever, I never cared.

They can say whatever the fuck they want, I live in my own world.

As it turns out, they were so bloody wrong, I did not grant their wish by becoming a prostitute.

Also, they were wrong about me doing anything for money, I turned down many offers, I just want to live free and happily.

I still have nightmares or horrible dreams (if I am lucky) every night, some don't affect me, some make me unpleasant, some give me shiver, some wakes me up crying.

Those little things in my childhood never affect me, or I never realised they did, until I was 18, that was the last time my dad hit me.

"Punched", actually, to be precised. My sister accused me of something I did not do, my dad never let me explained. When I came home from my college, he just walked towards me with an angry/dark-devil look and gave me several punches instead.

I always begged him to stop, shame on me, how I wished I could be one of those strong people who are quiet and swallow those shit when they're being hit.

I would never forget that moment nor that look on his face.

You could say it's the past, I could never go back therefore I must stop looking back, but things are easy to be said than done, you can never understand these traumas inside.

Dad also told me once, that I needed to get myself checked out, he hit my so hard he's worried I might not be able to conceive.

I don't know if I would be able to forgive him if it turned out to be negative, I never get checked out.

I can suppress it but I cannot lie to myself, the traumas are always there.

But still, I love my dad and I hereby thanking him, without him, I am not the woman I am today.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I am strong!