@floppybit your incomprehension at the situation is very helpful to me, as I’ve always felt so uncertain about the impact of what I went through. My father would snap when I was small. He once gave me a black eye and knocked me halfway across the room. I was 6. Another time, he stripped and beat me so furiously that I soiled myself, and all because I’d got upset about not being able to have the free toy in a new cereal packet (not to be opened until the previous box was finished). Looking back, my crying over such things was understandable – I must’ve been extremely emotionally confused 
@Tlollj thank you. In recent years I’ve been a big part of my best friends’ children’s lives, and at times it has struck me that their upbringing is significantly different to my own. They have never been hit or deprived of anything they needed, and have been actively loved and respected even when their behaviour might have been a little trying. By which I mean, typically-developing children, with the best will in the world, can go through ‘difficult’ phases, but they’ve never been made to feel anything other than human and lovable, and it shows. I once let slip that I was beaten by teachers (one teacher broke one of my little fingers with a heavy board ruler and nothing was ever said); the children’s genuine shock that such a thing could happen spoke volumes to me. Violence and the unremarkably punitive attitudes of adults characterised my childhood.
@funnylittlefloozie yes I got the slipper, shoes, hairbrushes, even a stair rod! Even the “normal” smacking was outlawed after we’d grown up, wasn’t it? So your comment helps me to put what I went through in greater context, thank you.
@BeingATwatItsABingThing you see, that’s just it - some people might think it disingenuous of me, at my age, to start this thread. Surely I’d know such experiences would continue to have an impact on me, but that’s just it. For as long as I can remember I’ve been unable to trust my own judgment and suffered pernicious guilt over what I went through. I really struggle to believe I’ve ‘got a point’ by feeling the way I have about myself. My thought processes are very self-defeating and I blame myself for wasting opportunities and struggling with relationships. But I honestly have always felt as though I’m fighting a losing battle with life. Thank you for feeling so strongly, it helps me to gauge where I’ve been.
@LadyEuphemia I honestly wouldn’t know where to begin…
@thinkingaboutLangCleg the social workers overlooked our family! 
Seriously though, nobody I ever met growing up raised as much as an eyebrow over the treatment I received. As an adult I’ve wondered if there was something particularly odd about my hometown. I was abused at home, in the street, at school and in other people’s homes and if anyone was concerned they never showed it.
@Bowlofcereal I’m deeply moved by your words and their insight. I’ll treasure your post. I’ve trained to work therapeutically with children but a line manager told me early on I wasn’t robust enough to bear the emotional burden of it and although I didn’t want to hear it, she was right. I’m still adding to my training but not actually working anymore and don’t know if I’ll ever be strong enough to. You can probably understand why I’m driven to, nevertheless. Your empathy reminds me that when I was 5, in my first primary school, I had a teacher who made me feel very special and clever. She adored me, and I realised a few years ago that she probably intuited that I had a very troubling family set-up. She may well have acted upon her suspicions ultimately, but we moved away before she got the chance, when I was 6. At the primary school I went to after that, my mother was a big part of the PTA and knew some of the teachers socially. Any possible concerns on their part were doubtless overridden by that ‘incestuous’ small-town inter-mingling between parents and teachers. So many instances of neglect and abuse in my young life were either ignored, covered up or simply not comprehended for what they actually were. Things have changed a lot since then, of course, although I know a lot still goes under the radar even now. The little boy I was… thank you for reminding me, but for some reason it’s very difficult for me to connect to him. Or maybe the pain and depression I feel is him. Such a mess.
I would like to reply to everyone else’s posts too, but will take a break for now 