There were quite a number of traumas I experienced, most before age 13, but the physical abuse didn’t totally stop until I was 19. The emotional abuse continued until I was 31 and finally realized that as an adult, I didn’t have to talk to people who’d hurt me, family or not.
I was assaulted a lot. A LOT: burnt, scratched, beaten with hands, fists, sticks, belts, extension cords; slapped, choked, sat upon, bodily thrown, and pushed into walls. All the other sorts of abuse happened as well. The worst part was never knowing when something was going to happen; it was constant low-grade terror. There would be peace and quiet for some days and then BAM! I’d wake up to being socked in the head in the middle of the night for leaving a dirty cup in the kitchen sink.
I look at photos of myself as a child and almost can’t believe any of it happened, but it did. I felt guilty for decades for not loving the people who did this to me. ???
It would’ve been extremely dangerous for me to strike back or express my angry at the time, but repressing the terror, panic and anger showed itself to being more harmful in the long run.