Just to pursue this a bit, I actually got to the point (after 2 years of abuse) that the only thing in my life that was real was the abuse. Everything else was all pretending to be a normal kid, hiding, lying, etc., while meanwhile my body wasn't even listening to me. When the abuser showed up again I even felt grateful, because now I didn't have to wonder when the next time would be.
A screwed up sense of "real", sure, but hey, is there anything a kid continues to see clearly when he's being hurt like this?
Nobody living can ever stop me
As I go walking my freedom highway.
Nobody living can make me turn back:
This land was made for you and me. (Woody Guthrie)