This is part of a series by SHK on the childhood trauma and abuse that he faced at the hands of his adopted mother (whom is his aunt) when he was 18 months old. This article was written with permission from The Common Room, who, assisted in putting together this article due to SHK ‘s own health problems.
When I was all but about 3 or so years old, that, was when the abuse first began. I would often be separated from people who were thought to be against my Aunt Amy, because, she feared that people were going to try and take her children — because she should have never had them to begin with. My health issues first (first) started when I was about 13 or so. I complained my vision was getting poor, and that, I was having a hard time seeing in school. But I was told that I was a liar, and, that alike my actual mother it was in my head and all for attention (it’s worth noting 10 years later, I, actually now fully wear prescription glasses registered by a NYC doctor).
It was never about attention. My eyes have always crossed, and, at times it becomes hard to see things that I look at for long periods of time. But, she never cared. I remember going to an eye-doctor, where, it was like she had already spoken to him before the appointment even occurred. Without even looking much at my eyes, and, performing very few tests — he almost instantly agreed with my Aunt Amy that I should’ve never been brought in for an appointment and I had to have been faking it.
It would become a long and historical use of things by my Aunt Amy to portray her children (nephews) as crazy; disrespectful, and in need of her to be a caretaker (she would later get her grip on my only brother, whom, I am now no longer allowed to speak with because I won’t return home to suffer under her iron-fist residence of hell).
I would go on to be told that I was acting out, because I was a drama queen and whatever else she could come up with. This was around the same time that I would develop what is known as a benign vascular malformation “down south’ — something that if not properly taken care of could have grave consequences later in life (I am now actually in the process of getting the conjoined blood vessels fixed).
My Aunt Amy was and remains probably one of the worst mothers ever. Her history of lying; sleeping in cars because of men, leaving homes for the sense and false security of men, I, could create a literal and entire laundry list of issues that she caused. For the duration of my childhood….
She ignored the fact that I have..
- Pectus Escavatum (enclaved and displaced heart/lung)
- Gastrointestinal Failure
- Vision Problems
- Dietary Issues
- Anorexia
- PTSD
- Agoraphobia
- A Sleep Disorder
While my PTSD was originally brought on by many years of abuse, it, would later go on to be worsened after the car crash that almost took my life in 2016. I hold no hard feelings against my Aunt Amy, however, at this stage in my life — I now reserve the right to tell my story and tell the truth.
All of these problems are now surfacing in my life at barely 23 years old, some from previous in life, others brand new. My health is now an everyday battle, because, according to the woman who has always claimed that she wanted me so bad as one of her kids — I was never good enough to receive proper medical attention and help.
This could have all been so different. She tokenized my health so that she could attempt to convince others (particularly Social Security) that I was loony enough to get benefits so she could receive her cut for being a payee (she would go on to do just that to my brother, whom, she had convinced so hard that he was crazy — he eventually gave in to get benefits).
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