The Trolls* actively starved me as a child even as they fed my three siblings and themselves. I hate them for everything they did but the starvation was the worst. They started when I was born and continued to starve me throughout my childhood. I remember nothing but starving and there is no way to tell anyone what it was like if they haven’t experienced it for themselves. It is far more than being hungry because you haven’t eaten in four or five hours. Your thoughts are consumed with food and the pangs are horrible. I often could hear the Trolls eating and I could smell the food but they would not feed me. I often screamed or cried because of it. Mrs. Troll did not take care of me at all after I was born and left me to her husband. She spent most of her days in her bedroom crying and ignoring everything and he was an alcoholic abusive monster. He left me in my diapers for days at a time sometimes and when he did feed me it was never enough to dull my hunger let alone allow me to recover. Pediatricians were concerned with how thin I was and how little I weighed. Mrs. Troll, who was always in the doctors’ offices, lied to them about how much and how often I was eating

It was 8 or 9 in the evening when I was six in the living room at the second house in Michigan and I was quietly reading, trying to hide in the book and “not be” at the Troll* house. Eldest* was in his room, Princess* and Baby* also were in the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Troll* were in the kitchen. Out of nowhere Mr. Troll* started yelling and shouting incoherently. Then he came over to me, grabbed me by the shoulders and started shaking and yelling at me, still incoherent. Princess and Baby ran out of the room. I dropped the book and he continued yelling. I don’t think I will ever understand what he was yelling about. Then he started hitting me, still yelling. Everything started to hurt and I was crying. I understand why my siblings didn’t get involved but Mrs. Troll did nothing to stop him either. That also hurts. After he was done and had left the room, all I could do was sit there and cry in pain. No one came to check on me. I went to bed very soon after and cried myself to sleep. I am furious at him for hurting me and I am furious at her for letting him.

When I was seven, Mrs. T* told me I was “a problem.” Not that I had problems or caused problems but that I was a problem. It was another in a list of there’s something wrong with you, what’s wrong with you, why can’t you be more like your sister, etc. It stung and hurt and I never got used to them or got over them, but it was not unexpected. Later, when I was eleven, she told me to stop being a problem. Since I was a problem, this was essentially her telling me not to be, telling me to tell myself not to be. I hate her with everything I am capable of hating her with and it still hurts that she said these things to me. I cannot ever forgive them for what they did and said to me.

All of my life I heard the Trolls* telling me to be good, especially Mrs. T*. I had been trying harder and harder to be “good” and quiet: not getting angry, not crying, and not talking. By the time I was thirteen and in the eighth grade, I was trying my best not to be a “problem.” I was very quiet in class. I turned in my assignments and did well on the tests but I was quiet. I didn’t have any friends to talk to in class and I never volunteered to answer questions. I knew the answers and was always prepared when called on but I never volunteered. At the end of the school year, our teacher took the class out to an awards dinner where she had designed awards for all of the students. She gave me an “Are You There Award” because I had been unnaturally quiet all year. She said she knew I had been in class but she was never sure if I was there on any day unless she spoke to me. I felt like I had been invisible and hated it but stayed quiet. I never told her how much the award hurt because I would have had to tell her about the abuse and staying quiet. I couldn’t tell her about it when I was trying to deny that it had happened and was continuing to happen. Children need to be taught very young that NOTHING that hurts them needs to be or should be kept a secret no matter who has told them it is one.