For me, it began with a visit to my biological father (at age 13)

For me, it began with a visit to my biological father (at age 13), whom I had no memory of, since my Mother left him when I was less than a year old. My older brother lived with him until he was 10, then came to live with us. He talked all the time about how great our father was, so eventually I became adamant about meeting him myself. My Mother was reluctant, knowing what he really was, but knew that I had to find out for myself. Understand that she did not know he was sexually abusive, only that he had been physically abusive to her, and his other wives. Feeling that I would be safe, as long as my brother was with me, she allowed me to go. The first day was wonderful, he was caring and compassionate, curious about my life. The next day, he started drinking and that night he called me into his bedroom. At first I thought that him rubbing my leg while talking to me was "fatherly" love, but soon it turned into rubbing between my legs and telling me to take my clothes off. When I resisted, he threatened to tell my brother, who was asleep in the next room, that I had initiated the contact and that he would ensure that I would never see him again if I did not comply. I idolized my brother, I had only been with him for a very few years, and honestly had no idea of the whole sex thing so I didn't know what was in store for me, so I complied with his wishes, after all, he was my father, wasn't he? I was forced to have compliant "adult" sex, being directed to moan correctly, say that he was the best, ask for more and tell him that I loved him. Over the next two weeks, this was a nightly ritual, with him trying to talk me into staying to live with him, as his wife. During the day, when the three of us would go sightseeing, he would send my brother off on some errand so that he could touch me, getting me "ready for the night". Finally I had had enough, called my Mother from a payphone, in tears, and asked to come home, never telling her why, just that he was mean to me. I buried the whole thing, and went on with a life filled with self-destructive behavior, drinking, drugs, thoughts of suicide and putting myself in positions where I was abused by other men in various ways. I never told a soul until I was 21, married, and had a flashback during sex with my husband. He must has though I was crazy. I opened my eyes while he was on top of me and saw the face of my father. I screamed, cried and tried to hide in the corner. When he finally got me to come out, I was able to relate a small part of the story to him and he forced me into counseling. It only took one session with a doctor who told me it was ok to be angry and that it wasn't my fault. That's when the healing began. Over the years I have read countless books on violence and began to understand that my father had a pathological hatred of women. He beat them all, he had 7 wives and many children, only one of which I know. 30 years later, I am strong, able to tell my story, willing to tell my story to help others understand that you really can emerge from the darkness. Don't let your fear stop you, take baby steps if you have to, but don't let your abuser continue to rule your life. You are not alone, reach out and you will find that there are many of us willing to help, and that you can help, just by understanding. Nobody truly understands what we feel, unless they have been there. If you have been there, you have the capacity to make something positive out of your pain and your abuser has lost the battle over your soul.
by Tammyon 3 Mar 2004

Labels: For me, it began with a visit to my biological father (at age 13)

posted by Robert Heard at 7:54 AM