My heart has been broken more than a few times in my life. February 22, 1999, was not one of those days.
I can remember the day my dad died very vividly. It replays like a movie in my head. I can tell you what friends and teacher came to the hospital to support me. I can tell you that I comforted my mom and sister when they got emotional after learning that he was just living through machines.
I can tell you I did not cry.
In hindsight, I see that day as the day of my release from prison. I didn't know it at the time, but it was the last day I would be a sexual abuse victim. It was the BEST worst day of my entire life.
Until I admitted the abuse to myself a year later, I never once considered myself as an abuse survivor. I would read stories about abuse and feel sorry for those people but I did not see myself in their shoes. Throughout the abuse, I saw myself as being a "bad" person for having feelings and I knew there was something wrong with what my dad was doing; but I didn't have a support system as I do now, and since it had been going on for 12 years, I didn't know any different, so I thought it was "normal".
I isolated myself from schoolmates, I very rarely portrayed any type of emotion that wasn't negative, I was hostile and resistant to most people, I didn't cry because that was a weakness, I looked forward to going back to school on Mondays and dreaded Fridays, and I read books. Books were the one place I could escape from my life. I could go into many different worlds and lives and I knew there was better out there. If only I could hold on until 18, then I would be free.
For a long time, I felt guilty that I had caused my dad's death. He had a biopsy a short time beforehand, and I liked to goose him because I knew he hated it. I had no idea about the surgery and I goosed him a few days before his collapse on the side of the road. I did a lot of research to determine if sutures could be burst just by poking someone. The jury is still out.
If my dad were still alive today, I have no doubt my life would be filled with much more turmoil and I would be stuck in a time warp. I wrote the following letter 3 years ago and updated it to reflect the current situation. I finally feel like a victor. I opened myself up to relationships this year, and while they didn't turn out ideally, I BEAT THE DEVIL. I am not stuck in a cage of my thoughts and worries.
I have cried. And I have lived.
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Dear Daddy,
I can remember the day my dad died very vividly. It replays like a movie in my head. I can tell you what friends and teacher came to the hospital to support me. I can tell you that I comforted my mom and sister when they got emotional after learning that he was just living through machines.
I can tell you I did not cry.
In hindsight, I see that day as the day of my release from prison. I didn't know it at the time, but it was the last day I would be a sexual abuse victim. It was the BEST worst day of my entire life.
Until I admitted the abuse to myself a year later, I never once considered myself as an abuse survivor. I would read stories about abuse and feel sorry for those people but I did not see myself in their shoes. Throughout the abuse, I saw myself as being a "bad" person for having feelings and I knew there was something wrong with what my dad was doing; but I didn't have a support system as I do now, and since it had been going on for 12 years, I didn't know any different, so I thought it was "normal".
I isolated myself from schoolmates, I very rarely portrayed any type of emotion that wasn't negative, I was hostile and resistant to most people, I didn't cry because that was a weakness, I looked forward to going back to school on Mondays and dreaded Fridays, and I read books. Books were the one place I could escape from my life. I could go into many different worlds and lives and I knew there was better out there. If only I could hold on until 18, then I would be free.
For a long time, I felt guilty that I had caused my dad's death. He had a biopsy a short time beforehand, and I liked to goose him because I knew he hated it. I had no idea about the surgery and I goosed him a few days before his collapse on the side of the road. I did a lot of research to determine if sutures could be burst just by poking someone. The jury is still out.
If my dad were still alive today, I have no doubt my life would be filled with much more turmoil and I would be stuck in a time warp. I wrote the following letter 3 years ago and updated it to reflect the current situation. I finally feel like a victor. I opened myself up to relationships this year, and while they didn't turn out ideally, I BEAT THE DEVIL. I am not stuck in a cage of my thoughts and worries.
I have cried. And I have lived.
==================================================================
Dear Daddy,
I am taking this time to finally say goodbye to you. After almost 18 years, I have finally had enough. I held onto you and your effect on me for so long because I did not want to let you go. As long as I held on to the anger and the hurt, in some ways, you were still with me. I had never really given myself a chance to mourn you because I was trying to hold on to something that never actually existed.
You deeply hurt me with your abuse of me, and I cannot begin to understand it, but I have decided I do not want you to determine my life anymore. Remaining stuck in the past will never allow me the life or the love I really want to achieve. I had allowed you to decide when I was happy, when I was sad, when I distrusted people, and when I felt unsafe. You were like a voice whispering in my ear and keeping blinders on me. I am tired of having a victim mentality instead of a warrior mentality. All it did was keep me stuck. I saw others pass me by like ships in a fog, and I envied them their happiness and successes.
I am sorry your life was so bad that you felt like you had to take it out on your own family. I must say that I don’t understand that level of egocentrism and despair where you need to inflict pain on other people to make yourself feel better. I do hope in some way it helped; otherwise, it’s even worse that in the end, it was all for nothing.
I don’t want to make this into a letter of anger and hatred since that is precisely what I am trying to keep away from, but suffice it to say, in your pathetic parenting of me as a child and teenager, I felt like such a failure and disappointment to you. Nothing was ever good enough - I was never good enough for you. Your love, what little there was, had to be earned, but you were so cold and distant that when you did offer your perverted sense of affection, I welcomed it because I knew that was all I was going to get from you.
I cannot pretend to understand why you adopted children if they were not what you wanted. You were all about image and appearances and status. I got so invested in keeping up appearances that I stayed away from all people in case they found out the truth about our family. I felt completely worthless because you made me feel that way every day growing up, and I carried that with me into adulthood.
I questioned my basic value as a human being, and I always worried about being a burden or imposition on anyone. I isolated myself and felt uneasy around other people, especially males, at a level far behind social awkwardness and anxiety. I used to be desperate for love and approval and would do anything to make people like me because of you. It was the worst thing in the world, as far as I was concerned, if someone was mad at me or didn’t like me. I was intimidated by angry people and felt guilty when I stood up for myself or acted in my own best interest because of you.
I was attracted to emotionally unavailable people with addictive personalities and to other victims because I confused love with pity and tended to “love” people that I could pity and rescue. I repressed my feelings and told everyone that I was “fine” because I was unaware of the impact that my inability to identify and express my feelings had on my adult life. I have a dependent personality because of you and was so terrified of rejection or abandonment that I stayed in situations or relationships that were harmful to me. My fears and dependency kept me from ending unfulfilling relationships and prevented me from entering into fulfilling ones, which was a result of the dysfunctional example that I had growing up. I ran scared in the other direction so I could not be damaged again.
I do admit that you taught me some good things: love of education, desire to improve myself, compassion for others’ suffering, desire to help those in need, and, interestingly enough, hope that there is something better and bigger out there than this measly existence. You made me aware of faults that were within me, and, in doing so, I am able to work on them and improve my life for the better, so thank you for that. So, in spite of everything you did, I am still a valuable person, but that’s because of what I’ve done, not because of your example for me.
I’ve already begun to mend myself, but I realize that I still have a long way to go before I will be able to completely move past everything that has happened. I realize that there are good men in the world, in spite of your fabulous example. I won’t think about you anymore except in a vague, foggy memory sort of way--like a stranger I would pass on the street. In the end, however, I win. I win every day that I choose to get up and fight.
This year, I have allowed myself to feel emotions, to invest myself in healthy relationships, to push myself outside of my emotional comfort zone. I have realized my self-worth and refused to accept less than the best because I deserve it. I have created a circle of trust and loyalty with quality people, not because I have anything to contribute but because I live. I have focused on self-care because I am important enough to be taken care of just as much as I take care of others. I allowed myself to let go in intimate relationships and trust that the other person had my best interest at heart. I even fell in love. I CAN be happy. I CAN be a human being.
There is nothing more I want or need from you. Your love and acceptance could not change who I am or where I am going in my life. There is nothing more to say except, “Goodbye and good riddance.” I wish I could say it has been wonderful, but that would be a lie.
Your adopted (but never really yours) daughter
