Phobia Child Abuse

Not many knows this about me, where and how I grew up. I was born in San Francisco, CA, and at the age of 3, my abusive, alcoholic parents abandoned me. I don’t remember how long I was left alone in that apartment until CPS was called, but I do remember being hungry, alone, scared, and what it was liked to not be loved or wanted.

Growing up with a mentally ill, prescription-addicted mother, I experienced severe abuse as the norm. Between beatings, food deprivation, sexual abuse and near-death experiences, I tried to raise my four siblings as best I could. As a teenager, I was trafficked for forced labor over the course of three years. Truly, I didn’t think I would live to be 18. The saga ended when my mother became too ill to mistreat me.

DCS decided to take my sisters and I away from our mother. We were all split up into different directions. One of my half sisters was placed in foster care, and my other two half sisters were placed with their father, while my twin sister and I were placed with our paternal grandparents. After spending two-years with our grandparents, we were placed with our father, whom had never been involved in our lives because he was either incarcerated or didn’t know that we even existed. After a little while, my father started sexually abusing my sister, while he physically abused me. Then, he started sexually abusing me, as well. Because of the abuse, I began self-harming, basically on a daily basis. My father began noticing the marks on my body, and because he didn’t know why I was self harming, he decided to take me to an emergency room, and from there, I was sent to various mental institutions. After I was discharged, I would be sent back to my father’s house, but then the abuse would start again, and the cycle would repeat, until one day, I decided to tell one of the nurses at the mental institutions why I was truly self

My mother was in a relationship with a man, little did she know that this man was not the man she thought he was. I was about seven years old the first time I witnessed my mother physically abused. All I can remember was seeing my mother being pushed down a flight of stairs. The second time that I can remember is hearing an argument getting really heated. I went to the kitchen to see what was going on, he had a knife in his hand. I was so scared and felt helpless that I couldn’t protect my mother. I immediately called 911 in a panic. I remember a police officer questioning me. I don’t remember my mother ever talking to me about what happened it was just swept under the rug. Now that I am older I question why my mother dealt with verbal and physical abuse and stayed with this man. Of course, I can never bring my questions up to my mother. She’s just not that kind of person to talk about situations or just really talk about anything in

Once, I was contacted by a girl who had been inappropriately touched by family members. She described her mother’s lack of empathy combated by her own fear of pregnancy. She went on to open up about her talents of dancing, singing, and writing and how friends idealized her from the outside. The contrast seemed insane to me. I tried to tell her all the things she needed to know: how other’s opinions do not define her, how she has to tell a school administrator about her abuse, and how she still can be free. This story haunted me. It was difficult to even imagine what she was going through. I hope that she is motivated to escape her

My 3 older siblings and I having been the defenseless kids, whom were being secretly undervalued, neglected and abused. We were sworn to secrecy by our “Dad” to never speak of the things that happened in our home or “we would meet our real true Father”.

In no particular order, I remember: being caught smoking on the baseball field, throwing a teacher against a locker, choking another and being put into custody by a officer. The last time I saw him was just after midnight in 2007 on New Year’s Day, when he threw me into an ambulance and escorted me to rehab. Unlocking the handcuffs, red rings pressed into my wrist, he made it a point to tell me I was bright, very intelligent, had so much potential. Much like the town in which we lived, I took his and everyone’s words as garbage. You say that to every kid. You don’t know me. This all made me feel more powerful, more in control, cunning and cool— what I’d always

After being away from my father for some time, I used to sit down with my mother and we’d talk about the violence that occurred when I was younger. I remember telling my mother that I was glad to be away from my father so that he wouldn’t hurt her anymore. My mother always told us that we should never allow anyone to mistreat or abuse us but we were somewhat confused because she continued to allow my father to treat her in that manner. The actions of my father had hardened my heart and I’d decided that I would never allow a man to hurt me, the way that my he had hurt my mother. I would defend myself no matter what.

Known as a mental disorder a phobia is a persistent fear of a specific object, activity, or situation that leads to compelling desire to avoid it. Phobias tend to affect the way people live their lives, for example, their working and social environments, considering that they last for a very long time and are capable to cause intense psychological physical stress. It is considered today the most common mental and anxiety disorder in the United States (Matig Mavissakalian & David H. Barlow 1981 pp 2). There are many phobias such as: the fear of aging, fear of changing, fear of clowns, fear of getting fat, fear of being in closed spaces, etc.

This paper is about an experiment to condition a phobia into a young infant, performed in 1920 by the name of Albert B by a John B. Watson, supposedly a pseudonym. More specifically this paper is about what happened to little albert and where he is now. A lot of research has gone into this subject and there are many different angles to come from on this subject. Some believe that he was never seen again after the experiments and died at a young age. The majority believes he is Douglas Merritt and infant that supposedly died and a young age. The ethical and moral problems with this experiment were of great controversy and it has been accepted now that little Albert had a neurological impairment at the time of the experiment, Which Watson kept from the public records. Little Albert was taken from the experiments to go home and was never deconditioned or scheduled for long term follow-up. Some people went as far as to analyze the videos to find matching features.

When I was five my mother finally left my father because of the drugs, alcohol and my father sexually abusing me and allowing his biker friends to also abuse me for drugs. We ended up living with my aunt and uncle’s driveway, in a camper. You know one of the 1980’s ones that went on the back of a pickup. Now I do give my mother some credit she was a hard worker, but I hardly ever saw her and was bounced around form family member to family member so she could try to provide for us, but being a single mom with five kids was tough and soon she and my aunt had gotten into a fight and we ended up in a homeless shelter in downtown

As a child, I grew up in a very abusive home, my father and stepfather were both verbally and physically abusive to my mother, myself, and my siblings. It seemed like no matter how many times the police were called nothing was ever done, sure they are taking away in be gone and locked up for twenty four hours in the drunk tank, while he sobered up. But he would be back in our house, having to go within a few days to the judge which would give him a slap on the wrist, like a fine. We’d all be walking on pins and needles waiting for the next time, he went drinking or he had a bad day at work and the verbal and physical abuse would begin again.

My mother was the person who traumatized me as I grew up. I was called out of my name, ugly, and fat. I walked on egg shells when my mother was at home. When I told my father of what she was doing he didn’t believe it, because when he was around she was kind to me. Nothing I could do and say was good adequate. I was beaten, burned and cursed for being alive. I was a premature baby and when I was born if it had not been for my father I would be dead. The doctors told my parents by me being so small they could not guarantee that my vital organs would function properly and my mother said well put her to sleep. My father said well if she dies it will be on her own and I survived. I was a six-month premature baby and I often wonder if my mother

Disclosure of abuse by a child can occur at any time and it can be a shock to hear the details. The way an allegation is received can be very important in the outcome to a child, even many years later. There have been examples in the past of children not being believed at the time they spoke out about their experience, often resulting in serious problems later in life. Dealing with any aspect of child abuse can be extremely distressing. Many children or young people who live in abusive or harmful situations are in a constant state of anxiety and fear and it can be very difficult for them to talk to anyone about it. Children who have been subjected to abusive situations

Fearful that I would be disrespected and violated, I could not visit my mom. However, after three months of absolute misery, I was able to persuade my mom to visit her once a week. During those visits I witnessed the most heinous acts of inhumanity.