This might be a little long, so I apologize in advance. Abuse has always been a part of my life.

As a child, I was severely emotionally and physically abused. The first time I tried to commit suicide was in the first grade in class. I didn't know any better, but I knew you could die from hanging, so I took a belt and fixed it on the doorknob and put it around my neck and started to crawl away. Looking back, that never would have worked. My step-mother was evil...I sucked my thumb, so they put this metal thing with spikes on the top of my mouth so that my thumb would bleed when I tried to suck it: I just did it under my tongue which is still scarred. I used to wet the bed, so they put this thing under the sheet that would go off very loudly if it detected any moisture. I wet the bed because I was scared, not because I was a late developer. And why wouldn't I be? She picked me up by my neck once, and all I remember is starting to black out...then I hit something and slid down..I realized it was the wall. After that, I thought she would kill me. Before that, I felt like she would beat me (and she did) but wouldn't kill me because how would she explain that? But then everything changed. I started wetting my pants, which she made me wear as a necklace to school. But then I got in trouble when I didn't have friends, when people didn't come to my birthday parties. 2nd grade I tried to poison myself...but with what? I had nothing so I just put anything I could into my drinks and drank them...all sorts of plants, hoping one might be poisonous. My dad sent me to go live with my mom because he was afraid of what she would do to me. While I was there, my step-dad started molesting me, which continued for the next 6 years. It is really a long story...my dad came to my graduation to tell me he wouldn't send me to college...he had another daughter and I wasn't allowed to see her for three years, because he was mad that I stayed with my mom and didn't come back...my step-dad and mother were raging alcoholics; they got into a fight once and when I intervened, he pulled a gun on me and I put my hand in my pocket (I always had a knife)...I started to figure out where I should attack if I got shot so that at least we would both die...I decided to disembowel him but my mom ended up getting the gun away...so he's still alive. I dated a guy in college and he invited me to his 'brother's birthday party'. Even though I had a car, he wanted me to ride with him, so I went. Showed up, I was the only girl there. Naive, I didn't get it at all. Totally stupid. He started kissing me and wanted to go to a back room, so I went with him. But then he left for a couple of minutes and came back. I didn't know why but didn't ask. And then everyone else came in too. I weigh 115lbs...seriously, what was I going to do? I knew it had all been planned, but I was stuck. And then I realized I had two choices: physical pain + emotional pain, or emotional pain. When my dad saw me the next time, he didn't try to offer support. Instead, because I wasn't beat up, he said that I wanted it to happen and followed it up with, "You represent the lowest form of society." So I left his house with nowhere to go. Skip a few more years (full of drama, not enough time to go step-by-step) and I'm married. I am new to BDSM and don't know a lot about it. But I know enough to realize that there has to be a lot of soul-searching on both sides if my husband will ever end up my Dom. And I have been working on my side. But he has this self-esteem issue, which he puts on me, that he is never good enough. Regardless of what I do or say, he projects those feelings he has as feelings I have, and then he attacks me for the feelings he believes I have but do not. So we got into an argument recently over nothing, and it escalated to violence. I have a two year old and a three year old. We are in counseling and hopefully can work it out. But I realized two things. I don't know if I could ever respect him as my Dom (which is really hurtful), and that there is nothing I can do to fix the situation. So basically the childhood of my children and the security they have is completely in his hands, and I am not sure if he has the maturity to grow the fuck up before they resent us for bad memories..

I know it's long...sorry for that..