Abuse

In second grade I had a teacher, a nun, who physically abused me. I became her victim of choice for the year, I think. I never really knew what I did wrong, probably not really anything.  I guess I did some things like look out of the window when I was bored. I always was a bit of a dreamer. Anyway, she would hit me, pull my hair, things like that. Then she would keep me in for recess and tell me that I didn't have to go home and tell my parents that I was bad, because they would only punish me again at home and I had been punished enough.  I believed her.  Sad what adults can do to trusting children. I learned to "go someplace else." (That has really come in handy- like at the dentist.) It is hard to think about what I went through, but it made me who I am today.  I wouldn't have been *ME* without all of my experiences. It does help to explain things though, doesn't it? As an adult I actually found this nun's grave.  First I spit on her grave. Then I forgave her. Then I went through years of therapy. I'm OK now. Really! I only twitch once in a while.