I was molested, physically tortured, & verbally and emotionally tortured since I can remember up until I was about 14 by my father. I remember that my sexually molestation was a form of "punishment". It started with being spanked bare-bottomed, then it was being anally assualted with a finger or a brush handle then it was oral sex (giving not recieivng). I cant remember if I was penetrated by his penis anally though Im sure he at least tried. I can remember begging to be beaten because I had gotten to the point at age 6 or 7 that being physically beaten hurt far less and less longer than being sexually punished. I was punished at least once or twice a day depending on how long he could get me alone. He would like to get high or drunk late at night and I would wake up to being "fucked" or having a penis jammed in my mouth. I got to the point where I was afraid to sleep. I would hide under the bed or in the closet to sleep in the hope that he would be to spaced out to look for me. I had a mother that he beat everyday and sometimes would rape her in front of us; she could only beg me to leave the room and take my brother with me. How did he get away with this? Threats of violence and torture to us and to others we loved...grandparents, friends, my sibling, my mother. He use to tell me how he would have to finally kill my mother if i told about my punishments; i needed to be a man and take what I deserved. Everyday he reminded me of how I had ruined his life ( him knocking up my mother in high school) how if I had died or went away that everyone would be happy. He would bring home animals as his guesture of repentance for "getting out of hand" only to kill them in front of me as my next form of punishment. I grew to hate my brother because all I ever saw him treated with was kindness and praise. I was the queer, the faggot, the spawn of satan noone wanted. when i was eleven, my mother climbed out a window and disappeared for four months, only to wind up divorcing him. A year later after having to go to his house everyother weekend and endure being sodomized and beaten; he tried to kidnap my brother and me. He had come to school and took us even though I screamed at the teachers and parents that we werent suppose to go with him. I broke away from him only to go with him because I was afraid I wouldnt see my brother again. After being on the road for hours, 6-8, I cant remember; i convinced him to stop at a gas station to get us food. While inside I told my brother( who was 8-9 and oblivious to the danger we were in) that we would never see our mom agian if we didnt throw a fit and tell him to take us home. I brought up his dead mother and if he ever missed her and how we wanted to go home.( My brother as if on cue, started crying, screaming about his mama) Finally after screaming and yelling and busting my lip( I was chanting to go home), he decided to take us home and left us on the street a couple of blocks from our home.
Never a letter or card from him, never even a thought about me; the bastard. And despite all of this I still loved him because he was my father, and if he hadnt left, I would have never realized that it was ok to love him as long as I understood that he was bad for me or anyone he was around. He would call once or twice a year and tell me how he was coming for my brother and how he would kill everyone to get him...he would talk about how he was following my family around and was always watching. For the months that followed, life was Hell; even though we had freedom from him we were still imprisoned by his threats and the fear of when he would popup.As the years went on, his feeble contact grew even more so. I thought the fear had grown feeble also; but now Im afraid hell show up one day to ruin what little happiness i have found with my wife and my 4 yr old son. I fear all the countless possible outcomes of kidnapping, death, and violence; And i still have to bury within and try to prtend to be normal.
I have never threatened or hit my family and never once thought of any form of abuse or torture. I love them dearly with my only desire to give them what I never had..Love, paitience, safety; but sometimes I feel like I may go crazy
from all the past and the constant on-guard. Ive only recently faced the sexual torture, remembering it, accepting that it happened and that it just wasnt my imagination. Ive been finding difficult to function because Ive been running from it for so long; Ive created who I am by NOT being him and what he did. I started therapy but I fear to embrace any of this, to really confront it and let it go. What if my self loathing and guilt and fear and disgust never go away? I try to be the 28 year old man that my body is housed in; but I still feel like Im 7 hiding under the bed, wishing someone would save me.
I am thankful for every survivor and every survivor story; once the secret's told, it's not a secret anymore.