Childhood memories (TW: Abuse)

I don’t know why, but this morning I had a little flashback to some things that happened in my childhood. Some things about my father, some things about my brother.

A few years ago I realized that I kinda was abused in my childhood. My father was an alcoholic and when he got drunk (what was almost every night) he got aggressive. I only remember how I always have seen him as loud and frightening. In my autistic view, I haven’t had him seen as part of my family.

He tried to change me to be “a normal non-autistic” child. He forced me to make eye contact, shaking hands and talking to people (I had selective mutism as a child). And when I didn’t do as he wanted, he yelled at me, scared me with his words, told me nasty things, threaten me.
Me and my brother had often fights in our childhoods. We literally was beating eachother. When we got too loud, our father yelled at us, threated us with beating, and even hit us on the head when we weren’t quiet.

I never have seen this as abuse. When I met other young people who lived on the streets and they told me their stories, I always thought “Uh, they have had it lot worse than we had. My childhood was actually very good.” I started to believe it, but now that I’m an adult and think back, I do see that it definitely was abuse. Abuse doesn’t only come in one shape. Not only beating until your whole body is all over with blue spots is abuse. That’s something I had to learn and to understand. But also mentally abuse is a thing. To get told every day, that you will get beaten up when you don’t do as an adult tells you to, is also abuse.

Since I couldn’t count on my brother, who has never protected me, taught me things or was there for me, I wonder if this is a reason why I feel strongly attracted to men who are like this. Loving, caring, protective people. Do I might have a big brother complex? I doubt that this experiences have made me aromantic; I more connect it to my autism. And I am fine with it! But I love platonically very strong, and I notice that I look for men who can be like a big brother for me. Maybe I talk about this next week with my therapist. Because I never told anyone before about this. Simply because I haven’t seen it as abuse, I haven’t recognize it as abuse.

Here you can see pretty well what I thought about my father.
My brother and me. (I’m the boy in the background.)



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