My father was a mentally and physically abusive Fourth. My mother was an Only who watched as the abuse occured. As a child, I saw her as a fellow victim because she also was abused by him. I lived in fear and dread every day. Anything could set father off on a rage, or nothing, it was difficult to figure out how to please him. He would even beat me just for what he thought I might be thinking. As a result, we suffered greatly behind closed doors, but outsiders thought we had a wonderful family. I am surprised that I survived my childhood, actually. I had thought one day father would go too far off the deep end. Or else I'd give myself a fatal illness with the worry about it. But I grew up and have been able to be successful and happy. I'll tell how later.
Lessons learned: Things are often not what they seem. If a family seems too perfect, look deeper!
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