I am not really posting a question, I guess I just need to get it out. Maybe typing my story out tonight will help get it off my mind for awhile.

My dad married a woman, I will call her Rae, when I was 7. Up until then he'd been a single dad (my brother and I lived with him, my mom was out of the picture for the most part). At first Rae was everything I could ever wanted- finally a mother figure in my life! She was nice to me, we had fun, and I loved her very much.

Then, somewhere along the line, within a year or two, she turned into an evil witch. My dad worked 3-midnight, so during the school year especially he had no idea what was going on at home and I was too afraid of Rae to say anything to my dad.

Rae abused me in many ways- verbally (she often told me I was a piece of trash and therefore was treated as one), physically (I can recall instances of being punched in the stomach, hit over the head with a large spoon, and being drug around by my hair), and emotionally (she would, once in awhile, pretend to care and I'd ALMOST have my guard down and then she'd start back up, being crueller than ever). She only let me shower every other Sunday, because at that point we were visiting my mother and we came home smelling like smoke. The kids at school never failed to remind me how bad I stunk.

When I was 11, she allowed her 17 year old son to come live with us (from his fathers, out of state) and slowly he because molesting me and eventunally raped me. When I finally got the courage to tell someone at school (after about 6 months), my stepmom acted all concered while at the police station but when we got home I got a beating like I'd never gotten before, for getting her boy in trouble. He went to jail, never saw him again.

I finally got the courage to tell my dad, when I was 12, that I wanted to go live with my mom. I think he was relieved, because he didn't know what was going on and couldn't figure out my behavior- I was always getting in trouble for stealing food at school (well duh, she never let me eat at home), I wet my bed all the time (again, duh, she never let me use the bathroom unless she said it was ok), and I hid in my room all the time and basically just laid on the bed, so my dad was probably pretty confused as to what was "wrong" with me. He had no idea what was really going on.

So I lived with my mom for the next two years, during which time my stepdad managed to try and molest me and actually once tried to physically take me to his bedroom, while my mom was out of town. Lovely.

I've been in therapy for over 3 years, sometimes I think I'm doing ok, I have dealt with some of the abuse, I'm in a different place. But then, I hit really down days and I cry for my lost childhood and for all the pain and suffering.

I'm expecting my first child in September and I cry sometimes, thinking about how to be a mom to him. I was never modeled healthy parenting, how do I know I have what it takes? Ugh.