I call him, my sperm donor, i know he never really loved me the way a parent should. To him, i was the anchor to my mother, both teens in high school when i was born. I remember him telling me he never wanted me, i was the spawn of satan, and that i had ruined his life. I don't remember exactly what age i was when he started molesting me but i was young; I would wake with hands on me in the dark, smell of sweat and semen. I became so terrorfied to sleep at night that i would sleep under my bed or in my closet just to rest peacefully. Sometimes, i would climb out my window at night and sleep in the woods or in a stormpipe to avoid being touched. He would trade drugs, money, and/or items for allowing other adults to use me. He would rage and scream and beat my mother and i for the smallest offense. (He was beating her once, when i was 7, so bad; I could hear him hitting her through the walls of our house. I ran inside and grabbed a small knife my mother had been peeling potatoes moments before and threw myself on top of her blindly swinging the knife at him to get him to stop.) He would take great pleasure in whipping me, if I cried out he would anally assault me with various painful objects to 'break me' and teach me respect. Through all the beatings and being locked in the closet for days at a time and night-time molestations, things were the worst when my mother climbed out the living room window and left for 3 months to divorce him when i was 13. She left me there with him and he blamed me for allowing her to leave.....as he would use me each and every night he would tell me how i had to get her to come back to get him to stop. My parents were offically divorced and i in her custody the day before my 14th birthday. Even though he eventually, fled town and we heard less and less of him and his threats of death, I still find myself in tears, 24 years later wondering what any person could have ever done to deserve this? It isn't the memories of what he did that haunt me as much as the things he said to me that break my spirit and stole my soul. I do not know how to trust another man and I so desperately just want one male friend, a kindred who would understand that this weeping, huddled mess isn't wanting sex, just compassion and empathy, just to be touched by another man and know that there is no violence or wrong doing in that touch. Just to hug another man and feel like it was ok because we have a bond and it's alright to express our feelings towards each other without the threat of sex or possesion ruining it. I wish for a reality where I can have a close relationship with another man and mean something other than a sexual release object. I feel so alone with all this venom and spite inside my head. I want more to this life than to be broken and used, shamed.....failure.
Pain makes you Beautiful -the Judybats, 1993