I thought it was some kind of April’s Fools Day joke when I got a registered letter in the mail from a fan of my blog. As I read the letter, it became apparent that my fan is not very happy with me. You see, the letter came from my father -my abuser. Apparently, he is an avid reader of my blog, and while I had a sneaking suspicion that this was the case, he confirmed it in the following letter that you can read by clicking here.
Sexual abuse destroys
Just as sexual abuse kills lives, it also kills families. Mine is no exception. The letter you read is nothing new to me. I have been getting these kinds of letters from my parents at least two, maybe three times a year and each time I am left with the feeling of profound guilt and am left asking myself: Why the fuck did I ever come forward?
Where is the peace from my abuse?
Should I be talking to the man who raped me as a 10-year-old child?
Just the sight of him in a picture insights fear, anger and hurt… DEEP hurt. Can speaking to him possibly help me with that? I could never imagine hearing his voice again! As the years go by my guilt diminishes a little, my feelings of deep hurt fades, and my nightmares ease as my confidence rises. Then another one of these letters comes along and haunts me that I may be doing something wrong, that I am the selfish one, the bastard who upset the apple cart. Like picking a fresh scab off of a seeping wound, I am reminded of how much I am hurting my parents by trying to protect myself and my son.
What is the endgame here?
When does this insanity end? Does it stop when I pick up the phone and give ol’ Dad and Mum a call?
Apparently, I am hell bent on destroying my mother and my father with my healing; it says so in that letter. I guess I am to bury the pain by hiding the truth as I had done for 20 years of my life. I guess I am to go back home with my tail between my legs and forge some kind of relationship with my parents so that we can be one big happy family again. I guess I am supposed to expose my son to my father and tell him ” it’s OK, son, he won’t touch you as he did me.” I guess I am the asshole in all of this. I am the shit disturber. I am the enemy.
Somehow, the abuser gets away with all of this, and I am left to bury the hatchet. “Daddy, It’s OK that you blew me as a 10-year-old, I can just write that out of my mind tomorrow!”. It doesn’t work that way. I am not hell-bent on destroying my parents, I am only hell-bent on healing from the destruction that was left from the fallout. And just when I begin to feel good, just when I feel as though I’ve got this: I get another letter.
I miss having parents
I would love to have parents again. I would like to have another set of grandparents for my son. I would love to be able to see extended family without that damn black cloud of guilt over my head and that enormous pink elephant in the room. I would give just about anything to go back to my 10-year-old self and say, “Daddy, please stop!”. But what I can’t give up is my soul, my happiness and my purpose and I will never give up the safety of my son.
You are correct father, we cannot change the past. But as long as I have a breath in my lungs and a beat in my heart; I will change the future. I will break the cycle of abuse that you were too weak to break yourself. I will ensure my message is clear to every other victim of sexual abuse that has suffered at the hands of narcissistic, sexual predators, that they have an ally in me. I will not back down from the stigma of abuse, no matter the cost. I will not give up until I am at peace and am completely healed. My resolve to rid the world of the secrecy that surrounds sexual abuse is stronger than my desire to have a relationship with my parents. It is my purpose. I will not be threatened to shut up and just sweep it under the rug. The predators will not win.
PS: Father, my book has already been written. If you think your passive-aggressive threat of suing me will deter me from sharing my story, think again. I am not scared to tell my truth to any judge or anyone else who wants to know. You are well aware that I have gone to the police with my complaint, I am ready for that trial. As to sending me letters, I told you 8 years ago to leave me alone, to allow me to heal in my own time and space, but you will not allow me that. So, let’s change the past right now… Daddy, Please stop.
You are not alone
My 2016 TEDx talk about my sexual abuse journey entitled: “You are not alone”