Dear Daddy…..(TW)

Dear Daddy,

Yep, that’s what I called you before you started to come to my room at night to lay with me in your drunken stupor.  At the age of four you taught me to fear your name and what the worst kind of pain is….the pain of being molested by my own father. You also taught me I never mattered to you.  You never loved me, you never cared about me, and you emphasized that point every time you came into my room.  And I know that you planned ahead of time what you were going to do because you would shut my door in hopes no one else would hear your evil.

The lies you whispered to me were manufactured to make sure I never told your secrets and your efforts paid off.  You used me for years only to discard me when I go too old to excite you.  What kind of man gets off looking at a child?  What kind of pervert are you to rape your own daughter?  You have a sick mind and you never deserved to be a father.  It makes me sick to even think about you.  I hate you because of what you did to me.  You succeeded in not only terrorizing my childhood but also my adult life.  But I am not even going to go into all of how I keep reaping the evil you have sown into my life.  You don’t deserve to know anything about my life.

But, I will say that you never protected me from life….the most minimum requirement of being a father.  You subjected me to terror EVERY DAY of my childhood.  Even after you threw me aside you couldn’t muster the effort to be a caring dad.  Yes, you came to my games but you never held me when I cried.  Yes, you punished me when I didn’t reach a certain grade but you never helped me with my homework.  To actually have a conversation with me was too much of an effort for you.  If you had thrown me any small amount of love I would have caught it.  But, no, I wasn’t worthy of the effort.

I used to wish you would be haunted in your dreams by what you did to me.  But then I realized they wouldn’t be haunting to you.  They would be pleasurable.  How sick you are.  I cannot imagine a lower creature on this earth than a man that is sexually aroused by is four year old daughter.

I know what your penis looks like…to this day I have that picture in my head.  I hate you for that.  I hate you because I can never get that out of my head.  It is burned into my skin and unfortunately my soul.  No daughter should have to live with that.  You gave me a death sentence when you did what you did to me.  Touching me where you did, telling me it was for me.  Lies Lies Lies.

You had many opportunities to stop.  You had many choices along the way and kept making the evil one.  When I screamed and cried for you not to take me in the car you could have seen and heard my pain but you chose to ignore my dying and instead think about your dick.  I hate you for that.

I have thoughts of truly dancing on your grave when you die.  Instead of flowers I will come to desecrate your grave by writing in large permanent marker over your name:  Child Molester.    Sid _____, The Child Molester.

Did you know that a child molester has the exact same personality as a serial killer?  Yea, you achieve to high standards dad.  89% of child sexual assault cases involve persons known to the child, such as a caretaker or family acquaintance.  1/3 of all prisoners convicted of sexual assault molested their own child.  Looks like you have a lot of company dad.  3/4 of the violent victimizations of children took place in the victim’s home.  Research shows that the most common sexual offender is the father.   That is the real Sid ____.  You are a disgrace to the human race.  Just think, if the truth were known, no one would want to be around you….except your sick wife who chooses you the perpetrator over the victim.  You disgust me and I hate you.  I hate you and your life.

You are living a shell of a life because you fear being the real you.  You know the real Sid _____ would be hated by all.  So, you have to put up a careful front to keep hidden your true self.  The only person you can never hide it from, other than me, is yourself.  You know what a truly rotten person you are.   You know you deserve to rot in hell.

 

**this letter will be sent at a later date.  whenever I am ready.

I was chained to evil

Children are to be Rejoiced over.  I was Obsessed over.

Children are to be Celebrated.  I was Hidden and Molested.

Children are to be Respected.  I was Used and Rejected.

Children are to be Clothed in Love.  I was Undressed in Humiliation.

Children are to be Given Freedom.  I was Chained to your Evil.

Children are to be Filled with Wonder.  I was Infected with your Contempt.

Children are to be covered and Protected.  I was Hallowed Out and Exposed.

Children are to be Cherished and Delighted over.  I was Reviled and Condemned.

My heart is controlled by self-hate, my soul shackled with disgrace, my emotions impenetrably incarcerated.

Dad, nothing would stop you.  You taught me the meaning of powerlessness, deep grief, extreme narcissism, and fear.  you stole my identity, my femininity, my joy.  Then you forced memories to haunt me, attacking my days and nights.

 

Letter from my Dad

*TW I wrote this letter from my dad using things he would say to me when he abused me as a child.

Dear Daughter,

Let me say out front that I was a good dad to you.  Sure we had our problems but I was always a good dad.  I always planned on being home for dinner, it was just too hard to leave the bar in time.  I know dinner is important to eat together that is why I tried so hard to get home in time.  It’s just that your mother would never listen to me when I told her to have dinner later so I could make it.

When I drank too much, i would always sleep it off in the living room.  And I always made sure we had our special time together during the night while everyone else was sleeping.  You were always special to me.  Remember all the secrets kept between us?  And you never once told, like a good girl.

And when the night times weren’t enough for you, I would take you on our weekend drives.  I did all that for you.  Now, aren’t I a kind dad?   Those were wonderful drives that I know you looked forward to.  I would help you out in numerous ways, wouldn’t I?  Your hands got  you in trouble one time but I helped correct your troubled hands, didn’t I?  And I was always gentle with you, wasn’t I?  When you made me tie your hands up I used my white t-shirt so it wouldn’t leave any bruises.  Wasn’t that nice of me?  I was always caring…and smart.  I knew I had to tie your hands to the car door or you might be naughty again.  I didn’t want the punishment to get worse for you.  I was always thinking of you, remember.

I was always helping you out to make sure you enjoyed our times together.  Remember how I was  gentle and put your enjoyment first?  My enjoyment could always and always did wait until after yours.  See how I always put you first?  Yes, I put you first in my life.  I know everything about you.  I  know more than anyone on this earth knows, don’t I?  I know more about you than your husband.  Ha Ha.  You know you loved our times together, you have to admit that.  You always went with me, in fact I know you were happy to be spending time with your dad.  Whose little girl isn’t happy to be spending time with their one and only dad?  I did all this for you and your enjoyment.  I’ll never forget it and I know you won’t either…even though I know you would never dream of telling anyone our little secrets.  Our secrets are to be a part of the pleasure.  No one will know but you and I how I love on my little girl.  I am helping you become a woman today.  And all little girls like this so I know you do too.  Something would be wrong with you if you didn’t like it when I put all my attention on you.  Daddy-daughter times.  I still have wonderful dreams about all our times together , don’t you?  They still make me feel happy.  I often think about my hands touching your bare skin, rubbing the inside of your legs.  You’ll always be my little girl.  You can never get away from your daddy.  We are together forever now.

This is what good love is.  I am teaching you what love is and what it looks like.  I am a good daddy preparing you for life.  That you enjoyed it so much was just a bonus wasn’t it?  I am a loyal loving dad devoted to you.  We will always be connected together forever.  Our bodies just fit together like we were made for one another…and we were weren’t we?  I know you agree.  I can see it in your eyes.  I’ve always been able to tell what your feeling and thinking.  I know you are loving me and devoted to me also.  I can tell in how we love each other.  I know you appreciate all I have done for you.  Nothing will ever break our bond.

Things changed when you grew up.  You started to disgust me.  I just didn’t like  or enjoy being with you anymore.  Where did my sweet little girl go?  I guess you had to grow up but I liked you so much better when you were small.  Now, that was just the perfect time for us, wasn’t it?  But not now.  I’d rather be with the memories than with you now.  I really do find you disgusting now.  You’re just not the same.  At least we have our wonderful memories.

Your Loving Dad

The Battle Cry

One of my identities, a 14 year old, seems to carry all the pain, anger, sadness and most of the memories of my abuse.  And, I don’t like her.  I don’t want to feel her pain, see her anger, or experience her memories.  Seeing, feeling, and experiencing would make the abuse MINE.  It would make it real.  It would make life painful…and I’m not into pain right now, thank you very much.

But, closing my eyes to her has made therapy come to a standstill.  Not hearing her voice is what my abusers did.  Not hearing her voice is not hearing my voice.  Is my voice significant?  Is telling my story essential to my life?  Is the truth essential to my story?  YES, YES, AND YES!

So, dear 14 year old, I am ready.  I am ready to grasp your brave hand, give voice to your pain, and cry in sadness with you.  I will be someone you can trust to be with you, stand up for you and help finally to carry all these burdens.  Your voice and my voice will one day become strong enough to fight off abuse for others.  Let’s unite against our abusers and battle against their lies we’ve believed all these years.  We have cursed our body, our femininity, and our worth.  Let’s fight for the truth of the blessings of our body, our womanhood, and our significance.  In trying to protect ourselves from future harm we have built walls that have blocked out sweet affection, pure faith, and hope.  We depended on no one and thwarted all attempts to love us.  If we join together we can walk through the hurting and grief to arrive at our joy and grasp true love.

Snapping Pens and Killing my Abuser

As I snapped ANOTHER pen in half during our session (this is probably my 5th or 6th), my T asked again what my hands might be telling me.  When I said I didn’t know he asked it a different way.  Immediately I got a picture of my hands wrapped tightly around my Dad’s neck.

Because that picture was too frightening to speak out loud, I instead told my counselor about a memory of when I was 10.  After we moved, my Dad stopped abusing me and I started having a recurring nightmare.  It may sound silly now but it was truly terrifying when I was 10.  The entire nightmare was me running from a tangled ball of yarn.  so afraid I would be captured and eaten alive.  so little I would be run over and forever wounded.  so terrified I would become entangled in all the knots and strings that I’d never escape.

One night as I awoke screaming in fear, my Mom came in to calm me. Being fully awake I quickly took my hands and wrapped them around her neck.  After removing them, Mom went back to her room and the incident was never mentioned.

So, from hearing about my memory, my T wondered out loud if I felt any anger towards my Mom.  I was actually able to get in touch with some of the anger.  But as I thought about writing this post, and remembered my FIRST picture of my hands wrapped around my Dad’s neck, I wondered if I could actually write about it.

Anger.  At my father.  I either feel fear or complete numbness.  Nope, no anger here.

Evidently though, it was there as a child.  And rightly so.  Every bit of it was rightly so, even if it was murderous.

But today,  no anger.

 

Silencing the Screams

Last week my 14 year old insider told my husband that she hates me because she is the only one that carries around all of the pain.  And that is very true.  I rarely if ever feel any of the emotional pain from the abuse I endured as a child.  If I do feel it, it is only fleeting.

Until today.  Today, as I was driving to my counselor’s office, a two hour drive one way, I was feeling a very heavy sadness.  I didn’t know why I was feeling the sadness though.  I truly had no idea. I thought through the morning and found no triggers.  But, during the session, as the 14 year old was present, I recognized that the extreme sadness that she was feeling was exactly what I was feeling on the drive down.  It is going to sound silly but after the session I asked myself why I was feeling so sad and it was like a realization that the sadness was directly connected to the abuse.

In the course of my second session, my counselor and I talked about my memories and what struck me was the look on my face after each abuse.

Shock.  Traumatized.  Emotionally Dead.  Dazed.  Dissociated.

Surely Mom could hear all the emotional wounds screaming from my body.  Surely she could see her little girl change into a grotesque monster wreathing in pain.  Surely she could feel the miles and miles of distance that the abuse put between us.

As our house was only 700 sq feet, surely she heard the abuse happening night after night.  I know she saw me fighting off Dad when he announced he was going to take me to “run errands”.  I was only six.  “No, Mommy, No,  I want Mommy, Mommy, Mommy”

She was thankful to be relieved of her other child for part of the day.

“No, Mommy, No, Mommy, Mommy, mommy”

The next time, there were no screams.  They had been silenced because no one cared.

 

 

 

 

I decided I don’t have DID

Yea, right.  But really, after I realized that it has been a while since I had seen one of my other identities I thought maybe “we” had started to “blend” without me knowing it.  My other identity, a 14 year old, and I have started to blend – kind of be out together at the same time.  I don’t know if that is normal or not but that is the best way I can describe what has been happening.  It is terribly confusing with me not knowing what the heck are my thoughts or her thoughts or even if there are any thoughts in my brain or not.

On Friday, I decided that since I must be blending with my youngest identity as I am with the 14 year old then maybe I no longer have DID.  Friday and Saturday I had wonderful days of being just adult me….no DID, no other identities, no mental illness, no mental fog.  I even experienced some joy, which is new to me.  I recently bought a kayak (even though I have never been in one before) and have found that I love to be alone out on the water!  So, Friday and Saturday I just knew I was back to being just a normal, non-mentally ill woman that enjoys the outdoors.

I announce my lack of mental illness status to my husband who smiles faintly.  After asking him what he thinks he tells me that every few months I “decide” I no longer have DID.  I laugh and move on.  But, just four hours later when getting to bed is too complicated for me to do, I have to admit that yes, I still have DID.