u/ForsakenSecretary255

Don't mind the terrible video shaking while I was recording the bear. I was running off of 3 hours of sleep 💀😭

Apparently spiritual abuse cannot happen within the United States according to redditors and any story thereof is deemed false. So, because it was deemed false I would like to share my apparently "fictional" life story.

The abuse initially began in 2004-2005, with the first victim being my teenaged mother. She was 15 years old while my father was about 19 years old. She fell to the illusion that he was a good man, and truly cared for her. This was later proved false.

Over the years, I would witness my mother being beaten and mentally abused. I have a reoccurring memory of my mother being abused while my siblings and I were in the car heading to or from my grandparents home. This memory has never faded and I recall the terror of seeing my mother getting her hair pulled and being beaten in general.

When I was 8 years old, I came to faith as a Christian by myself. My father was very hostile to Christianity. My brother on the other hand spent his days telling me, "God is fake." Because I did not have a Bible nor did have an understanding of the Gospels, I had no true defense of my faith. The best I could do is cry and say "He is real!"

Later on, I turned 11 years old. I saw my mother crying outside, so I gave her a hug. My father saw this and screamed at the top of his lungs that I belonged in foster care. This led to intense spiraling.

When I was 12 years old, the Covid pandemic left everyone with my father. This was a time period of isolation. We hated it. My father was violent with my mother and with us.

When I was 13 years old, my life grew terrible. My grandmother died in a traumatic way, the dog died. Another dog died. My great aunt and uncle died very young, and finally, my parents divorced.

My father made it his mission to tell us that our mother had abandoned us.

My younger brother and I, being very young had believed every word he said. We became very spiteful to our mother, and refused to see her.

My father would spend this time brainwashing us and telling us all kinds of lies regarding our mother. It became a matter of falsities becoming a fact to us.

When I was 14, the abuse rampened up. Simultaneously, I started practicing my Christian faith in the fullness of it instead of staying lukewarm. I still attended school so it was not as bad. Albeit, the summers consisted of labor. My father works in Trash, scrap, and construction. A lot of material would be dispersed in our yard. Our home looked as if it were a landfill. Obviously, my father made each child clean that up for hours. We were never paid, and we would work from 11 am to sunset. This typically led to a lot of pain and soreness. Regardless we had to push through because there was never a chance of relief.

When I was 15, I started realizing what was happening to me was abuse, due to my stepmother telling me that the things occurring to us are NOT normal.

In between 15-18:

At the same time, I found faith in Greek Orthodoxy. It was essentially the only glimpse of heaven I could even recieve. Unfortunately for me, my father and stepmother were not in support of my Christian faith, nor were some of my siblings and cousin.

I recall reading the Bible on the trampoline with my stepsister and cousin. My brother saw this and chased us with a salt gun simply because we were reading the Bible. Earlier that day, he stole my cousin's Bible and ran away.

Other times, the adults would ostracize me and berate me. At times, my father would say "Look, its the God fearing Christian," in a very condescending tone. I simply walked outside to give the chickens water, and that set him off.

Other times, I would be mocked over and over again woth no relief. I was also being forced to hear that all priests and pastors are pedofiles.

My family would tell me that Christians should be banned, or put into concentration camps. At times, people would deny that I was a Christian and would call me a Muslim or a Jew.

They also threatened to take, or burn my Bibles. I grew so fearful that I began writing down books of the Bible in notebooks. I also began memorizing scripture. I also wrote down orthodox Christian prayers in case my phone was smashed or taken.

Regardless, I continued in faith despite hardships.

Some time during this period, my father started using the following tools on us for a quick laugh:

1. A cattleprod. I knew not to move because my father thrives off of fear. I was shocked twice in the legs, below the knee. This caused my legs to buckle and he found that amusing. Since I was not giving the response he wanted, he moved onto other people. He began targeting my two cousins. They ran, and because they ran... he cornered them and shocked them over and over. I helplessly listened to their screams and cries.

2. A Lunge whip. This one looked pink when swung fast. In reality, it was red and white.

3. Wet washrags. We would be snapped harshly with wet washrags. I recall this once left a large red mark through my jeans.

4. Fire crackers. He would throw fire crackers at us.

5. Rubber bands. He kept snapping us with rubber bands. I recall telling him, "You shouldn't snap me because I have to go to the doctor for shots and they'd wonder why I have marks on me." This worked, I got shots in both of my arms that day. The second I got home, I was snapped straight in my right arm where one of my shots were. This caused so much pain in my arm and I genuinely couldn't bare it. The pain persisted for days. It was hard to sleep.

When I was specifically 16 years old, my father began fantasizing murder. I told my stepmother, "If he gets a gun, I will run." Sometime later, he did get a gun.

When I was 17, he started planning to murder my whole maternal family in a murder-suicide. His plan was to do a mass murder on December 31st, 2025. I was disgusted. I was shaken, and he was also talking about killing us and his wife.

Everyone was afraid. We did not know if we would wake up another day. The suspense of sleeping and not knowing if we'd wake up was killing us faster than the bullet ever could. We spent our days in terror, wondering if every fight he had with his wife was going to be the end.

When Christians say, "The end is near!" It was literal for us. We were scared. At one point, I went from praying for his salvation to praying for his demise to prevent mass murder. A child, praying for their own father to die so he cannot kill anyone else is tragic!

I have pro-life values, I am against guns, I am against any form of death and destruction in general. I am very much a conditional pacifist so I was betraying my own values because he wanted to hurt people.

During rhis time, I was intensely praying that God does not allow these things to happen. I was very depressed and just started preparing for my death. Life beyond that house no longer seemed possible. If my father was going to murder me, what was the point of trying to survive whilst awaiting the inevitable? I was not suicidal, nor am I suicidal now. I was just tired.

So I no longer prayed for survival, I prayed that God let our murders go quickly. It was no longer a matter to cry over.

By the time I was 18, I had been fed up. I planned to attempt to run away for a 3rd time, ignoring the fact I was meant to graduate highschool several months later. I did not do it.

Instead, 3 days after turning 18, my father grew angry with me because my stepmother had betrayed me. I was trying to help her get away, and she blew it. She told my father everything. She also recorded me telling her to have an alibi because he would be violent with her over having that voice recorder. She gave that recording to him.

Regardless, I packed my bags the next day. I knew it was finished. I was leaving. My phone was broken, and then the day I left, my school laptop was destroyed. He threw it directly over my head.

The day my phone got broken, I did not cry. I did not argue, I simply colored the cracks.

I have been free since January 18th, 2026.

So as much as I wish it were all fake, as much as I wish it were all a lie.. Its not. I am going to have to live with this for the rest of my life.

I will forever be having flashbacks and memories of the abuse. What I said here is not even the fullness of all that occured to me and my family. I will continue to flinch at loud noises and remember the fact that life can easily be taken.

Believe me or not, I am the one with documented evidence. I am the one with photographic evidence. I am the one with a CPS case against my own father. And I am the one with the trauma.

And it is not just that! We also endured headlice on and off from 2022-2025. Its plausible the children still have it. This lice left our scalps have open wounds. This would cause hair matting, and it would be hellish to take a shower because it burnt and stung so badly.

The labor exploitation was always in the hot sun, so we'd be covered in dirt, sweat, and filth. Sometimes even feces and mud.

This was religious abuse, verbal CSA, physical & mental abuse, neglect, sadistic torture, and psychological warefare, and child labor exploitation.

Not only that, my father also murdered animals. He put an arrow in the dogs chest around 2020. He shot the roosters. He made us vote on which rooster lives. I refused to participate. My friends were animals and they are dead! Nobody can bring them back!

I wish it was a lie! I wish the people who believe I am lying are correct. I do. Because then I would not have suffered! I wish it was a lie.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zhgSbcz44PFhWs6X6bW1obbSyfAPNCU_y-nT7IQWlYQ/edit?usp=drivesdk

I used to have a snow globe. This is my first in years. I thought it was pretty cool.

It is a titanic museum globe that includes snow, and iceberg, and of course, the RMS titanic.