Hi, my name is conny and you reached my life story. This will not be pretty or easy for you as a reader, or for me as a writer.

I was born in Germany and lived there most of my life, so towns, names and places will sound unfamiliar to you all. This will be very confusing because I lost all my memory for a while and still have problems remembering, especially parts of my childhood before 11.

So, here we go:
I was born in Stuttgart, Germany. My parents are Italian and German. Against Italian family tradition (maternal) to always stay close, my mother decided to move with me and my father to a different place.
In Tauberbischofsheim (don't even try to say that), is where my memories start. There are only a few before my parents got divorced. I remember how my Mother dropped me off at a bus station after she packed me a suitcase, and just told me "You needed to find new parents I do not love you anymore!" She left me there, about 4 years old, alone and scared, very,very sacred. I have no idea how long she left me or why. My younger sister and I received this kind of treatment all the time.
My sister was not from my Father and that was one of the reasons they got divorced after Tina was born. At this point she took my Father away from me, the parent who told me he loved me and hugged me and was good to me. I remember the last night with my Father,, him laying on the couch, looking at me with tears flowing out of his eyes and constantly saying, "I'm sorry, Nela" (my nickname at that time), "I am so sorry", over and over and over again. The next time I saw him I was 15 and too many things have happened. Today I understand that he had no choice as a man but to leave me with my mother, and that he knew how hard this was going to be for me.
We left Tauberbishofheim and moved in with my aunt. What I rememebr from there is that my aunt had a big black poodle and that there where fights between my aunt and my mother all the time.
So we moved again and from about 6-8 I can remember the following: Where I went to school, how my teachers looked, where I picked up my sister from daycare, how long it took me to get to the apartment, the way up to the stairs, the older lady who watched us above our apartment, the ugly green door to our apartment, and even that the hallway that was painted in pistachio green and beige; but as soon as I stand in front of that door, there is a blank. I can see how the street looks from the window, but as soon as I try to remember how the apartment looks, I get a scared and very dark feeling, even still today. But still no memory.
Then we moved again to Frankenbach and all hell broke loose. I remember too much from this time, just not in the right order anymore. The changing of the men, the beatings, the humiliation and the way she treated us. There where weeks that I missed from school because my body looked black and blue, so I was bad in school, so I got a beating again, you see what I mean, right? My Mom hit us so hard that we had broken bones, black eyes and bruises all over our bodies.
We would rather spend days hiding in our room and being quiet than even going to the bathroom. We had a bucket that we sneaked in and we used so that nothing brought attention to ourselves.
My Mother whored for money. She used men and men used her.
If my grandparents and my aunt would not have moved close to us, we would have been dead or locked up in a mental institute somewhere. Nobody ever said anything. As I remember from Germany, it is still allowed to use punishment on your children.
Life in that time was tough on me. I was my sisters keeper, the cook, I cleaned, went to school (sometimes), and I had to be prepared all the time to get some kind of beating. There was not one day of my life as long and as much as I can remember, where my Mother did not hit me.
To this day, my Mother never touched me in love. She never hugged or kissed me. She did my sister but never me. No matter how good I was, no matter how much I did, it was never good enough.
She told me since I was 3 years old, that she never wanted me or liked me and that she wished I never was born. She said that in front of my friends. She loved to humiliate me by coming to school drunk and telling the teacher what I did wrong at home.
By the age of ten I was angry and scared, but I always smiled. Nobody ever knew how much pain I was in or how lonely I was. I Never tried to make people notice me. Getting attention was always associated with pain. I always tried to make people laugh and be happy so nobody would know how I feel.
Yes, there where good times too. Times when my grandparents came or my aunt, but there was always that reminder that I have to go back to "her". I loved going to visit my grandparents or my aunt's house and stay there overnight. I was allowed to sleep with them in one bed. Cuddling, attention and huggs were there all the time. I knew from my aunt that I begged to stay there and never go back, but my mother always came. She always took the toys that I got from them and destroyed them or gave them away, and I was back in an emotional hell. But nothing ever prepared me for my mother's boyfriend Gerd coming to the house and their marriage.

Just click next to know how bad hell on earth can be.

Cell Phones