Any one else Really Really messed up by adoptive parents

[font=Comic Sans MS]Has anyone else had a really really bad experience in their lives with 'adoptive parents'?

[/font][font=Comic Sans MS]The man that adopted me thought that I was his (?) seeing that he was with my bmom I guess alot, when I was concieved. But, she was a prostitute (as was her mom). I don't know who she was. Dad told his wife he knew someone who had a baby to adopt out (me). When his wife found out she kicked him and me out and took everything they had. Dad wandered around with me for 9 months. In that time he worked nights, left me in the truck (in the Texas heat) alone, sleeping at first. But I woke up many many nights and cried and cried. They say you don't remember things when you are very young except in times of trauma. I remember, I remember his anger at my crying, especially the one night when he tried to give me a bottle. My bottom was scalded with pee and it was hot, I was hungry, it was dark and I was alone, sweaty and had been crying a long time by the time he came down from the rig and checked on me. When he gave me the bottle, the milk had turned sour and I threw it. You can guess that didn't go over well. At 9 months he found his first wife he had abandonded 10 years earlier. She took care of me for 9 months and then told him that if he did not marry her she would put me back up for adoption. Now that would have been the really great thing to do ... for me. But, guess what, he married her. And me, I became the bait to keep my dad. A very important unimportant person. She had to keep me very safe at all costs, but...nothing else. I was effectively in jail until I ran away at almost 17. She always wanted to look like me, she was short, of one half American Indian decent, dark hair, dark eyes...very beautiful. But she wanted to look like me, a tall blonde, blue-eyed person. I had to be quiet all the time. I had a place on the floor that was my place to sit. It's very hard to go back there, even now...it feels like a swamp I escaped from. Let's talk about my name. What is it? Really. They called me Sissy my entire life, until I started school. Before we went in to register, she gave me the usual speech...don't say a word. Then, when they asked for my name, she said 'Beatrice Akison'. Well, who was that?!@ I mean, really? And I couldn't even ask...what? Then they wouldn't take me cause I didn't know numbers or letters or colors. That was a grueling crash course, let me tell you. Turned out I was good in school, who knew, but I got a spanking every day for talking. Well, I never got to talk at home. I didn't know until I was eleven that she wasn't my mom. I didn't hardly ever see my dad much, even when he was living with us. He left us a lot to be with other women. When I started High School, I discovered that other people took baths alot. I was not allowed to take a bath but once every two weeks, sometimes three. It was decades later I discovered it was because of our septic tank problems. But at the time, all through High School, it was devastating. She had all the rule, from my earliest days and the results of disobedience was something to avoid at all costs. She had such control, I didn't even take showers at school. I had no towel, no shampoo, or comb, etc. Every year before school, I got one dress and one pair of shoes. I wasn't allowed to wear make-up, tampax was never heard of and she was not about to spend money on pads at my period time, ...she tore rags that I washed by hand. I never had deodorant and toothpaste sometimes. Shaving my legs was also taboo. I was never allowed outside unless I went to church or school. I never missed a day of school, the alternative was to stay home with her....and be quiet. I know how to watch the paint peel off the walls. If I woke up to the sound of the bus outside, I would jump up, put my shoes on and rush out the door. You can imagine the fright to look at I was, and....although I didn't know it at the time, the smelly thing that I was. Being the top 3 of my class, you can imagine the intense frustration I lived with, scorned and joked about at school, no friends, trap in clothes I hated. Socially totally inept. But school was still preferable to 'home'. I thought I was ugly, ugly, until, at 3 months away from 17, I ran away, and took a shower practically every day after that. I picked out my own clothes, wore make-up, shaved my legs and discovered that I wasn't half bad to look at, they caught me shop lifting some clothes and sent me to CA to live with her sister. How amazing, I lived in a brick house that was actually clean inside. I had my own bed that was clean. I had clean clothes that I liked. I could sit anywhere in the house that I wanted (did you know, to this day I am still most comfortable sitting on the floor and going bare footed). I had clean long blond hair, short dresses, long legs, nice clothes and so much attention I didn't even know how to be. Talk about an ugly duckling. So, talk to me, surely I am not the only adoptee that had a life that sucked, after being adopted. Windy[/font]