When you repress something for so long it starts to take it’s toll, you start to link things with it that you never had before, like you do with an ex, but this is different.
I was maybe 5, he was 45
He stuck his tongue far in my throat then pushed me away never to breathe of it again. He was my father. I couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t right in some way, but I quickly passed that off and began to feel special. Mine and Daddy’s little secret. I was so wrong, it happened again when my mother asked me to give him a kiss goodbye in the car, I opened my moth wide tongue screaming both sides and then the question “Where did you learn to kiss like that” my mother questioned, I could have given it all, told her every slimy, disgusting detail, but I was scared, scared I’d be in trouble, if not with my mom…then with him. “Tv” was all I said. I regret it to this day. To this day I still haven’t told anyone what he did to me, does it even class as abuse? I feel like it’s my fault, like I asked for it, that it doesn’t matter and I should just brush it off. Every time I’m with another man I think of him. the disgusting ways he touched me and it makes it hard for me to breath. I’m 19 going on 20 and I don’t know what to do. I’m a few years too late since my dad has died so I can’t question him. My mum’s now 50, he was way older for her. I feel like she knows, I cam from a broken home anyway so I spoke to a lot of social workers. They would always ask about my dad, I would stay mute. Not one single word. One day with Lisa Jones my favourite she stayed with me from the age of 11 till I was 17 she was the greatest women I had ever met. One summer day she and I were in the park, it was a sunny day and she wanted me to make a timeline, a timeline of all the stuff that happened in my life, then came the question about my father, when did he die?….She said to me “It’s ok if you’re not ready” I stayed mute, chocked back 8 years of tears and said “I don’t remember” The biggest lie I have told in all my life. I remember everything. I grieve for a man who hurts me. I am so emotionally confused and messed up by this. I don’t know where to turn. One day, when I was really high, completely blazed out of my mind, I wanted to tell her, I wanted to tell my mother how much of an ass he was, how he touched me and kissed me, It was building inside, I knew I was ready, I said “Mum,….” and Then I chocked I couldn’t do it, I saw her face and couldn’t hurt her anymore, this was a man that pushed her 5 ft away with a single wave of his hand, this was a man that used her as a punching bag for several years. This man used my left eye as an ashtray when I wouldn’t move. This man is my father. I quickly said to my mother after the pause “I’m too high to go into town with you” she laughed at me an said “It’s ok do you want to go in for a little snooze” Ah my mother, so kind, so understanding, why couldn’t I just say those 3 words? “Dad abused me” but I knew her suffering would only be more, unless she knows, and has known for a while, but she suffers still because she thinks I do not remember, because she knows I am regressing, because she doesn’t want to bring up such sadness, because seeing me reminds her of him everyday. I understand mummy, I want to tell you, I want you to know, I want you to hold me like you did when I was 6 and I would have nightmares and you would rock me, except this isn’t a nightmare, this really happened, and I need to find someone, anyone, who can help me.