Were you ever hit as a child?

[ribenita]

Were you hit as a child? How has your experience affected your treatment of your own children?

When I was growing up, my mum might give me a smack.
But if I was really “naughty” or annoyed my dad, I’d get smacked with the wooden spoon. Hand out and whack with the spoon across the palm. If you pulled your hand away you’d get another one. If you dared back chat, you’d get another one. Even if you knew you were right, you’d get another whack on whack on whack with the wooden spoon until you admitted you were wrong. Sadistic bastard.

If we stormed off to our rooms, you could hear the drawer where the wooden spoons were held open, and your heart would drop in dread.

I remember once, I was about 14 and he smacked me with the spoon. I grabbed it and whacked him back with it and then ran like the wind across the fields for several hours. He didn’t do it often after that.

Yes I was. It was "normal" in a 1970s context.... "good hidings" for pretty minor misbehaviour. I remember one time collecting flowers for Mothers' Day. I picked one flower from each neighbour's garden. I was about 5 and genuinely had no concept that flowers could be owned by anyone. They just grew. I handed them to my Mum and got a "good hiding" from my Dad for that. No discussion or an opportunity to teach or apologise to the neighbours .... just mindless violence. I've never celebrated Mothers Day since and even feel uncomfortable when my kids send me cards. I've never smacked my kids, and after my father threatened to smack my daughter I cut off contact with my parents and I'm glad I have. I've had nightmares and flashbacks for years and after I stopped talking to them that all went away and I'm far more content. I don't have anything to do with people who smack their kids. It's just ignorant, nasty and lazy parenting.

Once when I was 4. DF apologised to me when I was a teenager.

He was beaten by the sadistic peadophile headmaster of his junior school in the 1950s. He talks about it factually, so I don't know how much it affected him.

My mum may have smacked me a bit, I can't remember. My elder sister used to "parent" me and slapped me across the face several times. That was humiliating.

Ah yes I too had soap rammed in my mouth many times because I'd repeated a rude word.

My mother's too thick to realise I'd learnt the word from her.

I was sometimes hit as a kid by my DF and DM. Once when I was four I took it into my head to go to see my grandma about three streets away with my dolls' pram, without telling my mum. She was frantic when she couldn't find me and got my dad to come home from work. They found me at my grandma's house and I got the biggest good hiding ever from my dad and I remember my grandma crying and screaming "that's enough, T, that's enough!" I've often wondered why my grandma didn't take me back home but then she didn't like my mum very much and I think she wanted to spite her.

At 9 I got sent out of the class by my teacher for talking and was standing in the corridor when I saw the headmaster coming. I was scared because I thought he was going to tell me off but instead (and without any warning) he slapped me hard right across the face and then just walked away.

I was born in the 50s and at the tender age of 17 months old I lost my mother the cancer. I was looked after by my grandparents and was very happy with them. My father remarried and so when I was 7 went to live with them. I was not told what was happening I was just taken on Saturday afternoon as a weekend visit, but was never returned.
My life was awful from then on in. My stepmother was Irish and on a good day she was fun to be with however she was also cruel . Offen I was beaten, and dragged by my hair up and down the living room while she beat me. My father was never around when this was happening and after a beating she would take me in her arms and beg me not to tell my father. To cut a long story short In later life I suffered 3 nervous breakdowns the last one 11 years ago. I still get flash backs although I am medication for post traumatic stress. So was I smack as a child YES I was but then there is smacking or beating there is a difference.

My DM never hit me but my Dad often gave me "a good hiding" if I'd been naughty.

I understand that was the best way he knew to discipline me so I don't bear him (too much) a grudge.

I once smacked my DS on the bum when he ridiculed me for crying after a friend's funeral. He was about 8. I instantly regretted losing my rag. That's the only time in my 23 years as a parent and would never condone physical violence.

I can only remember my mother trying to smack me once, but I was running away at the time after being really cheeky, so she missed. I loved my mother, and I now think it was funny. However, my father, on one occasion when I was being a very stroppy teenager, totally lost his rag and boxed both my ears so hard I saw stars and had bruising and ringing in my ears. My mother was horrified and furious with him.This severely affected my attitude to my father for the rest of his life, and sad to say, it was only after his death that I realised that I didnt actually love him, and hadn't for many years. It was almost a relief to realise this. It might sound odd to have not come to this conclusion earlier, but the death of someone close to you leads to a lot of reflection.

My dad spanked me once. I was about 7 or 8. I threw a toy and a tantrum. He walked away, then came back and carefully explained that he must make sure I knew what I did was wrong. He gave me one spank on my bottom, then apologised. He never touched me violently again.

I first remember my mother hitting me when I was five. She told me to pick up a laundry basket and I must have sighed (it was a heavy basket filled with wet laundry). She smashed it out of my hands then slapped me on the face over and over again. Between every full force slap she 'sighed' hoarsely into my face and screamed 'how do you like it?' repeatedly.

She hit me again over the years, usually a slap to the face or head. Sometimes it was because I didn't want to wear an acrylic school jumper (it was incredibly itchy, I was later diagnosed with ASD derived sensory issues). If I removed it before the end of the day she would drag me out of the school playground so she could hit me where noone would see. She'd hit me for not tidying my room (I did tidy my room - she would throw everything onto the floor, hit me, then hit me again if it wasn't tidied up 10 minutes later). I remember one time I didn't put slippers on immediately after taking off my shoes. This was 'dirty' and she grabbed me by the hair, slapping my face and holding me in place so that she could stamp on my feet. Another time, I made the stupid mistake of mentioning something interesting at the dinner table. My mother insisted that I bring her a book I owned so that she could talk about it. I couldn't find the book. When she came screaming up the stairs I was hiding under my desk because I knew what was coming. She shrieked at me for leaving the table then kicked my repeatedly as I tried to cover my face and head. My Dad pulled her away, but now pretends he never saw it.

By the time I was 12 she didn't need to raise a hand. Every raised voice hits me like a slap. If I hear fast footsteps (She is short and stamps around when angry) I have to struggle to control my bladder. I was lucky to have a lot of good female role models growing up, women who where strong without being violent, could take the lead without beating anyone down. But I still remember how the psychiatrists repeatedly asked me if my dad was hitting me and of course, I told them no. They never asked if my mother was hitting me. So I know, KNOW how much hidden violence is excused every day because of 'motherhood' and perceived female moral superiority. And I KNOW how many damaged children carry wounds that noone will ever admit have scarred them and that turn into their own confused cruelty.

I am lucky to have a kind, loving, supportive partner, but the scars on my face are nothing compared to the scars on my soul.

A lot of these (awful) stories are not about simply getting a smacked bum 'back in the day'. They are true horror stories of genuine child abuse, that nowadays would lead to children being removed from parents, and rightly so. Should have been the case back then to but we all know physical, sexual abuse and neglect towards children was very much swept under the carpet in our recent history. If a child turned up bruised at school now SS would be involved before you could blink.

As I said in my pp I don't condone smacking children and would never smack my own. The thought of hurting or frightening them makes me feel utterly sick. It's lazy, outdated and cruel. That's not to say they don't push my buttons and drive me up the wall sometimes but I leave the room and take a moment to silently scream to myself then return to discipline them (I say them, one is a baby, so not her!) appropriately.

However as someone who received a few open handed smacks on the bum from otherwise loving and caring parents when quite frankly I was being a little brat on occasion I can see a world of difference between that and some of the recollections on here.

I don't feel damaged in the least. I can see I'm lucky.

I remember my elder sibling and me being smacked, though not my younger sibling. There was shouting and smacking, often threats, but never humiliation. And smacking was always with an open hand.

There was also a lot of love and warmth in our family. Smacking was not the first resource, ever.

I have never smacked our dc. I refuse to. Not because I have made any commitment not to, but because I can see how easy it is to do so when you're at your wit's end and lose your temper. Then smacking is not about discipline or consequences. Then it is about releasing your own rage. It's not for their benefit, it's for yours.

Yes, I was smacked, and presumably I‘d behaved badly, but I don’t remember why. Just being scared at being hit. I love my parents but they were wrong to do that. I react very defensively now to any situation where I feel unsafe.

@Aimeee. Your story brings tears to my eyes. I'm so sorry you had to experience this.

Yes we were hit. My mum would lose it ( when hungover which was often ) and hit us. I remember her grabbing my head one day and smashing it against the door frame then hitting me repeatedly because I fell down crying. She couldn’t control herself at times and used to laugh with my aunts about how she’d “leathered both of us for being arseholes all day”. It stopped when we became old enough to fight back. I have not and would never hit my dd. She’s so small 😭 my dad only indulged a few times. I stayed out late one night with a friend and he cracked my rib. I was on the stairs in a ball and he was swinging full kicks at me. It stays with you. Mum tried joking about how we knew not to fuck with her as kids a few years ago. I told her straight I would be too ashamed to admit to violently assaulting children and can’t figure out why you’re sat there smiling. She’s never mentioned it again. My dad pissed off regularly and their relationship was shite. Looking back she was not coping and drink made it worse. We didn’t speak for a long time. Rebuilt the relationship now but it took time.

My Dad used to smack me some very trivial things e.g if I’d finished all the milk in the fridge. He’s a big man, he used to chase me up the stairs and hit me so hard that it left a red handprint for hours.
I’ve never smacked,hit or whacked my dd and I never would.

@mephistopheles yes! I am sorry this happened to you but completely understand what you mean about no one questioning the mothers.

My dad did bad things, but my mother was sneaky and vicious. She would make me wear shoes that cut my feet, she would only buy me clothes that would ensure I was bullied in school. She told psychologists that I didn't understand the difference between fantasy and reality and would make snide comments about it. She did so many cruel, sneaky things, I find that harder to forgive than my dad who was really just an emotionally stunted moron.

My mother used to say she sometimes smacked us.

But that's a gross under representation....

In reality, she tore around the house shouting nasty things. She lined us up, one two three, and smacked all of us across the face. My sister and I worst, myself much worse.

Repeated slaps to the face, slaps all over the body. Grabbed by the face, hair, neck, up against the wall, head bashed on wall, continual shouting. If I fell on the floor, she would kick me, I would scuttle across the carpet with her kicking and kicking, then she would grab me up by the arm or the hair, shake me straight and push me with one arm up my back into the kitchen, where I'd have to stand all day and be lectured.

It makes me happy to reflect on what social workers would do.

There was emotional abuse, lack of choice, severe control regarding all choices (clothes, hair, food, subjects at school, friends, how we washed our hands, where we placed our toys). There was naked humiliation for example not being allowed to close the bathroom door or wash ourselves.

It went a lot further than just 'smacking'.

Dad didn't hit us though.

I'm glad this issue is in the public eye. It had a massive effect on me - I went on to work for a charity who rescues people who are being abused and I've helped 1000s to escape and heal. I even wrote my own self help book, Purple Dragon Mother. I don't speak to my mother and she can't speak of it, but I think she feels guilty. But the poor woman can't be challenged on it because her ego is too weak and our brother, who sticks up for her, says she will kill herself if we push for answers.

I had the odd smack on the legs from my mum, never dad and i remember she put soap in my mouth once for swearing... it was the F word and I'd heard it at school. Her main method of discipline was a wooden spoon that she threatened us with (never using it) but if she rattled the kitchen drawer, we were gone!!

Never did me any harm or made me feel unloved.

Allegedly my mother hit me once after her friends suggested it. I don’t remember it at all though. Wouldn’t know if she hadn’t told me.

I was hit regularly as a child and beaten occasionally all by my mother. Sometimes she lost control and would just repeatedly wallop us with whatever she had to hand. Other times she would hiss that as soon as she got us home she would hit us with the wooden spoon. That was worse, because the whole day would be ruined by the knowledge that when you got home she would hit you. She never forgot.

I hated it and her. There was nothing loving about it and it was accompanied by inconsistent rules, so you never knew what was a hitting offence and no praise or reward for being good or doing the right thing. I was afraid of her for most of my childhood and was constantly observing her to work out what kind of mood she might be in and how out of favour I might be.

I've never once hit either of my DC (they are nearly grown up now) and made a conscious choice to parent totally differently to how I was parented.

Needless to say, most of my adult relationships with men have been abusive.

However, I'm having therapy to try and unravel it all and am slowly making sense of it and changing how I think about my self.

Coming back to this thread - my maternal grandad (mum’s dad) never hit her and her grandma who brought her up too the same never hit but swiped with tea towel.

Strangely enough I was typing granddad’s memoirs of growing up abroad and if he’d been really naughty (rare) then it was a smack but other than that just a stern telling off.