I come from a family where vales and religion dominate their lives. I grew up believing that any wrong doing on my part would land me in the lands of hell.

As a child I knew that religion wasn’t for me and some how I always felt that I didn’t really fit in my family. The piece just didn’t fit. I lived in the middle east when I was younger, Kuwait to be exact. Had a normal life as every other kid my age.

Then we moved to a western country. This is when all my dilemmas began to unravel. My parents were extremely strict. I am the oldest of 4 girls.

Physical abuse in these cultures is pretty common. It’s supposedly how you teach your kids respect and pride. So I got my fair share of beatings as a kid because I thought it was normal.

When we moved to NZ, I was perplexed as to why parents weren’t punishing their kids the way I was. I couldn’t believe that little timmy would only get a mere “Time Out” or slap on the wrist while I got the back hand or belt.

To make this a short version, I rebelled in high school. my parents tried to keep a close grip on everything I did. I wasn’t allowed to be friends with boys or the “disgrace and family humiliation” of even talking to one.

I started to crack, I couldn’t handle my imprisonment at home. Sure I had my girl friends that I saw and hung out with but “Big brother” was always watching.

Things got worse for me when I turned 15. That’s when I had my first proper boy friend. Oh boy! So I would lie to try and see him. say I was seeing a friend, anything to get me that taste of freedom.

I somehow got away with it, that relationship didn’t last. Guy was a dick. in 5th form, the abuse started. because my parents caught onto the fact that I was a lying little cow, I started getting beaten up. after school, before school, whenever they had the chance. I kept fighting back. I would cry my way to sleep at night praying for it to stop but sadly it would only get worse..

I got my first job, they didn’t like that. I was beginning to gain power in their eyes. My part time job was my sheer taste of freedom from the hell I was enduring. couple of days a week, I could escape and find joy in it.

Things became really violent when I found another boyfriend. they found out about it, they would follow me to work watch when I had my breaks and then pounce.

One time, unexpectedly walking back from my break, they ganged up on me, threatening me that my life is over and im going to die. I smashed my cell phone and tried to run for it. No chance, they grabbed me, shoved me In the car and began their violent abuse infront of everyone to see. oh and I was working in a supermarket, they parked in front of it and beat the shit out of me.. when we got home it didn’t stop. my dad dragged me to the garage and was gona used a gold club to hit my head. my mother came to her senses realizing they would get locked up in jail.

so the torment ended for that night, but imagine my humiliation and embarrassment..

I called the cops on my parents twice, and some how my parents turned the cops on me saying I need to respect them. I was like are you F&*kin kidding me right now?!

I could sit here and write the never ending story of my abuse. But its making me too upset. My dad nearly killed me with a screw driver with my little sisters watching.. that was my last draw.

I escaped the chaos by moving in with my boyfriend who “converted” to help me out of their.

im 30 now, I am a successful woman with an amazingly kind and caring boyfriend. I escaped the horrendous abuse, I still have a relationship with my parents. they tried to reach out to me in my mid 20’s. I agreed and let the past slide.

Lately ive been plagued by the memories of my ordeal, I find myself questioning why I even let them back into my life. I know they hate them selves for it. they’ve never apologized or admitted their wrong doing.

My sisters have been affected by it too but they didn’t get the level of abuse I did. they had their own battles though..

So I ask, am I wrong for wanting to distance my self from my parents?

I don’t have a good relationship with my father. He’s a terrible one anyway. and my mother is manipulative. She will guilt you to no end if you don’t talk to her every week or visit which I hate doing. I was keeping the peace.

But I no longer wish to do so. For any of you who read this and have gone through something similar, I am sorry. it wasn’t your fault by any means.

Am I wrong to them and never want to see them again?