Like when I was in the 4th grade, I had a teacher who didn't like me very much. I was from the trailer park and I don't know if the had something to do with her dislike of me or not. I was very intelligent, but my social functioning was not very good.

She decided to get me by giving me a bad report at Conference Time. My dad and mother went, which was unusual because my dad didn't usually go. But, the teacher wouldn't let me come in and she told my dad, Who was a Verbally Abusive Animal, a whole bunch of stuff-basically she loaded him, cocked the weapon and pointed him at me and pulled the trigger.

So, of course after the conference, he went off on my in the car and I remember crying and trying to explain, but he wouldn't hear it. He even drove around extra so he could scream at me longer. Mom, of course, kept silent in the front seat probably glad she wasn't the subject of the tirade. I was quite disassociative by the time I was in the 4th grade, so I was kind of crouched low in my body and not seeing a whole lot over the seat in front of me in my memories of the event. It was horrible.

But, I went to school and I don't think I told her what had happened. I might have tried to tell her, but I no longer trusted her and I didn't believe that she had any compassion anyway.

Why didn't I tell. She probably wouldn't have believed me, but none of them figured out that dad was a Rageaholic and that was at least part of the cause of my mental illness. So strange, don't you think. 1983 sucked and when the summer came, I became anorexic and bulemic. They never could figure it out and we weren't supposed to tell because SRS would take us away. So strange.

P.S. If you post mean shit, I will ban you from the thread and delete your posts. I'm in no mood for that crap. Be nice.