Updated: Jan 21
I had a dream last night where I told a stranger that I had a purpose and that I just had to do it. She was very encouraging and told me that I absolutely should do whatever I felt so strongly about. I was crying in the dream. I knew exactly what I needed to do, although I didn’t say it out loud.
I will finish this book about Survivor Parenting.
What I am torn about is the “outing” of my father as a child molester. Of course, he deserves it. He deserves to have gone to jail, to have public humiliation, or to have had his dick cut off. I’ve had violent thoughts toward him over the years. I have wanted to cause him harm and pain.
Then I realized that I didn’t want to stoop to his level of cruelty and that I am on the side of good. The evil in him did not make me evil. The purpose of writing this book is not to hurt him. It’s to help other people.
In telling my story, it’s impossible to hide who my molester was. It doesn’t make sense to try to keep him anonymous. Who else would be breaking into my bedroom at night? It’s not my job to protect him.
My feelings were so repressed as a child and well into adulthood. I stuffed down guilt, shame, sadness and anger until I was numb. I spent years in hell, waiting to get out. I hated living with my parents as a teenager (more than your average teen.)
I had very little interaction with them and stayed busy. When we did anything as a “family” it was almost unbearable inside my skin. On the outside I was a stiff, quiet person acting like a normal teenager out with her parents. I had no respect for either of them and found them both deplorable.
Another reason for my ambivalence is that there were times when my dad was good to me. My good memories are up to about age 10. He joked around a lot, he would play games in the pool and invite my sister and I to play basketball. He would listen and talk to us – where my mother ignored us most of the time.
He had all the potential to be a great dad.
Whenever he tried to be nice when I was older, I would put on my acting face. I abhorred everything about him but was dependent on him. My mother showed me exactly how to act like everything was ok when it was not.
I have not had a parent for most of my adult life. My mom died when I was 27 and that’s when I killed off my dad (figuratively). I cut contact with him for the safety of my kids.
Yesterday I saw an old man in the store being helped by his adult daughter.
It made me wish that I had a father that I could help, talk to, get advice from, make proud, laugh with and – trust! But I never will. Because of his actions.
For a brief second in the store, I wanted those things with my father and wanted to let it all go and pretend enough to get my dad back! I could contact him and have lunch with him, chat as if the world was all right. But that would mean selling my soul. Now that I see clearly I cannot possibly go back to denial.
He can’t be trusted. He disregarded his whole family for his selfishness. He does not deserve my mercy. It’s my story to tell and I need to say it all freely.
I am speaking my truth.
It is time.
Self Published August 2019
UPDATE: I wrote the book!