Duane, 31, USA

I am not sure if my story was bad enough to be consider abusive. I'll let you guys determine that. I will say it had a profound impact on me.

I am not sure what age this all started but, my father seemed verbally and psychologically abusive.

When I was a kid I would do normal kid stuff. I think I broke something on accident or something like that. I remember a couple specific occasions where I would receive open-end punishments.

I would be sent to my room for weeks on end. I would be sent to my room and not allowed to talk to anyone (bro, sis, etc). I came home from school and would have to go straight to my room.

I remember spending hours in "solitary confinement" in my room for days. Sometimes I would get so angry I would trash my room. My dad would come in and spank me and add on another month to my endless punishment. I felt like I was sentenced to life and the judge gave me another 10 years. No biggie, I wasn't getting out anyway.

I would feel terror being in my room whenever I heard someone come up the stairs. One time I climbed the drapes, ripping them out of the wall. My dad got really pissed when he heard a loud crashing on the upstairs floor when the screws gave way and I fell to the floor. Needless to say he sufficiently broke me after that.

Also my brother would attack mercilessly verbally and physically. I knew he did this because he was getting "leaned on" too and needed an outlet. He had a lot of friends, but I didn't. I felt so alone. It was terrible.

Every time I heard the garage open when I was a kid I would sprint up the stairs because I knew my dad would start yelling. He yelled loudly. Really loud. I always felt tons of tension. Thick tension. But, if I didn't greet my dad when he came in he would yell and humiliate me for not saying "hello" after his long day at work where he "busted his ass" to provide for me. When I was trained to say "hello" he would ignore me all together. I felt like nothing.

Another instance of torment was when my dad made me stand in the corner of the master bedroom and stare at the wall and not make a sound until he told me I could move. I forgot I was there. Him and my mom were in bed and finally told me I could go to bed when they realized I was there. They heard me whimpering in the corner.

When I was in Jr. High on two occasions he would call me a loser who would only be a janitor with my crappy grades. I would cry, then get humiliated for being a male who cried like a baby. After one of these instances I busted a computer keyboard upstairs because I was so pissed.

I felt no self-respect. The next day at school I didn't shower or comb my hair. I felt like a loser. I trusted no one and was braced for verbal humiliation at Jr High too so I wasn't that popular. I didn't even open my books that day at school. I was daring the teacher to say something so I could go off on someone. She never did though.

Those were some key moments, but I lived in terror. I wanted to attack him, but never had the guts to do it. Whenever I tried to rebel he would remind me that he made the money and I would never beat him and that he could figuratively crush me if I got out of line. He crushed my spirit. I am doing ok now, but I have some leftovers that still taint my ability to trust people or be in a healthy relationship.