I was happy enough until I was 6 or 7 years old. Then my Father started beating me for wetting the bed. With what ever be grabbed, but usually his leather belt doubled over, holding me by my left arm so he could use his right arm to swing away. I started losing sleep, I was afraid to go to sleep because I would wake up either after I had already urinated or during urination, can't stop it. I remember shaking so hard when I new I was going to get another beating,, it was like the day I feel thru the ice up to my waist and had to walk about a mile home. Terror shakes. I think I may have gotten over it long ago but at 8years old we moved into our grandparents home, 5 boys in the basement, mom and sister up stairs. I saw two glass 5 gallon bottles and asked what are those for? Mom said " oh, your uncle Doug used to swell up like a balloon and he would have to drink a quart or so of artishon spring water so he could pee". I also was told grandma wet the bed until she was 18. It didn't come to me until much later in life,,, Mom let me get beat for an inherited genetic urinary problem that I had no control of. Oh yea, moving into the grandparents mom had to come clean,,, he wasn't the three older boys father. He was our step father and father to the three younger ones. I am #3 , the overlooked middle child. I was not wanted from the start. They had two boys, it was time for a girl, I was a disappointment as soon as they saw a penis. That is P.T.S.D. #1. At 8years old and in the basement, my two older brothers realized they could get away with torchering me. My grandma was of the generation that believed " children should be seen and not heard. " I heard her say it enough times I know she meant it. So at first when I would cry out grandma would yell down the stairs " quit your hollering or you won't get any supper". Before we moved there the year before was scarce on food. I remember when I was 7years old mom had me and the two older brothers out putting flyers on doors while she was in the car with the three younger siblings. I asked her how much we were getting paid? Mom said "if you want food for you and your little sister and the twin baby boys next week just shut up and put the flyers in the doors." I now really appreciate that burdon you placed upon me at 7 years old mom. It bothers me even more as I remember her having the money to smoke 3 packs a day and enough lipstick to reapply after each one. I also had Pyloric Stenosis at 3 months old, the valve to my stomach was clamped shut and I was literally starting to starve to death. I have always fought a binge eating disorder as soon as food was available. So,,,,, do I yell and scream when they are hurting me and go without supper? I usually tried to keep my mouth as closed as possible and moaned so grandma wouldn't hear me. P.T.S. D. #2. More of grandma's basement next time, we lived there from 8years old to 12years old, and it's the story of crushing my self esteem while I struggled to maintain some kind of self confidence.