I know what you mean, guys. My father/perp and I look a lot like him. I see his putrid mug in the mirror first thing in the morning and last thing at night. My stomach turns a bit. I keep reminding myself that it's the character that is the person: not the visual image.

I have been estranged from him for 8 years and yet I still get a bit of a heart rate increase when I see someone who resembles him. I try to anchor my thoughts in how sorry I feel for someone who resembles the perverted monster who was my father.
I have taken to the stand-up comedy stage to educate other male survivors and those who try to love them. I blog about my isolated religious upbringing where physical and sexual abuse were commonplace and I serve as a facilitator of a weekly support group for men who have suffered sexual assault.