Posted By Anonymous
**A warning before you continue reading. This might get graphic, it might not make sense, it might go from one thought to the next, and it’s not well written, but I’ve got to get this out.**
I’m twenty-one and I have a secret that I’ve kept my entire life. I just recently told my therapist this secret (more like she flat out asked me saying that she just had a hunch). You see, I hate my father. I hate him with all that I am. It’s not your typical type of hate, but I am filled with a hatred that goes through every part of my body and soul. It is this secret that I keep, that keeps this hatred strong. My mother divorced him when I was around five because he came home so drunk one night that he hit her instead of coming for me.
I was sexually abused. How I hate typing those words. But they have been in my mind forever, swirling around, hiding at times, but it’s always there. Since freaking out and tearfully saying yes to my therapist, it’s been on my mind constantly. I’m constantly terrified. I can’t sleep, I either don’t eat or eat too much, I can’t take showers unless I’m wearing a bathing suit, and I sleep in jeans, sweatshirts, and sneakers. I have panic attacks throughout the day and I can never relax.
I can’t stand people to touch me. I don’t like people getting close to me. Even family members that touch me, cause me to coil in fear. The only people that have ever touched me and don’t make me feel sick are children. They seem to be the only innocent things that exist. I can’t explain to my mom that when she touches me on the shoulder why I jerk away. She won’t understand. As it is now, she yells at me for being inconsiderate of her feelings when I ask her to please don’t touch me. She doesn’t give me a chance to say why, instead she reminds me of how selfish I’m being. How I must hate her because I don’t want her to touch me. That’s the same thing he used to tell me.
Almost every night he would come into my room, smelling of alcohol and cheap cologne. That smell still makes me sick to this day. I can’t remember the first time, and I don’t remember every time. For that I’m thankful. He would wait till the early hours of the morning and sit on the edge of my bed. It started off with only his hands roaming over my body, then it changed. Apparently that wasn’t enough for him and he started having sex with me. I went away in my head, and that’s always worked for me until now. Since admitting my secret, I haven’t been able to just go away in my mind. Hours aren’t passing as quickly and that scares me because it means that the memories and feelings are always there.
I feel like it’s my fault. I didn’t do enough to stop it- I blame myself. I didn’t tell anyone, so does that mean that I wanted it? Did I subconsciously not tell anyone so it would continue? Did I want it? Did I ask for it? Is it my fault for tempting him? I not only hate him, I hate myself. I hate myself for letting it happen, I hate myself for keeping a secret, I hate myself for telling my secret.
I hate that because I am his only child, I have to take care of him. He’s sick. He has heart problems, lung problems, he still drinks and smokes, and he’s in and out of hospitals. I’m next of kin and power of attorney. Everyone expects me to be the adult and take care of him. I also am next of kind and power of attorney for him mother and brother (both who are in nursing homes- Parkinson’s and stroke respectively). I hate having to see him, and each time I spend days trying to feel ok again. I never feel safe. I never feel relaxed, and rarely do I feel ok.
I don’t want people to feel sorry for me, but I want to be a kid. I never got to be a kid. From the time I was little, I was a part of his adult fantasy, and now I go to school full time, I work two jobs, and I take care of him, my grandmother, and my uncle. I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of having to be the perfect daughter. But most of all, I’m tired of hating myself.
I’m tired of this secret, but I fear that if I say anything about it now, then no one will believe me. After all, I’ve kept it this long. I’m scared and really all I want is someone safe to hold me and tell me it’s ok. I want someone to tell me that it’s ok to feel like this, that it’s ok to be scared, but also that I will be ok, and that they will protect me.