So This Is My Story...
As I recalled these things I began to feel dirty. With each new revelation I began to feel like I was less and less a person. Worthless. I felt like maybe I had been raised and groomed for the sole purpose of pleasing a man beginning with daddy? Suddenly these thoughts and memories also became an everyday part of my life as I felt I was losing touch with myself and my sanity. I have never been a drinker but I began to drink everynight. It was only one or two glasses of wine usually but I can not hold alcohol so that was enough. If I added a mixed drink or a pain pill I could just fall asleep. I just wanted to stop from thinking, from feeling. I guess I wanted to feel numb. In the mornings I could no longer wake up on my own. No amount of coffee seemed to help me. I found myself eating little and living on wine and coffee.. I was definately on a downhill and spiraling completely out of control only no-one knew it but me.
Molestation: Where do I start when I do not know the beginning of the story? If I cannot recall the beginning then I will start with my first memory of being touched. I was maybe Three or four possibly five but no older because I don't recall having younger siblings yet. My sister is 5 ½ years younger then me.
I was very close to daddy. A real daddy's girl. Daddy and I would often watch TV in bed, just the two of us under the covers, it was our bonding time I guess. The television was not very big, black and white and full of static. I remember we were watching Laurel and Hardy or sometimes The Red Skelton Show. These were my/our favorite TV programs (or so I was told). At that young age what did I know about a TV show about two men or a veriety show? I would have probably rather have seen a cartoon if I was given the choice. This first recollection is very clear. Daddy asked me where I wanted him to touch me. Without hesitation I instinctively told him there, you know where I am talking about? THERE!!!! I could see his smile and his smiling eyes so I knew I gave a good answer. I think it made him feel happy and pleasing daddy made me feel happy and loved.. LOVED? Well at four it felt that way. I can vaguely recall a couple of other times being softly touched there but have no real recollection of when this all started. It just was. I feel so frustrated and angry now because I have spent my entire life blaming myself and finding him innocent of any wrong doing. After all it was I that told him to touch me there.. I was asking for it wasn't I? He was only obliging , making his little girl happy was he not? This is honestly what I believed my entire life. How could I have been so blind.
One day I was very emotional and talking to a friend of mine who then talked to her psychiatrist about me. He told her to tell me to ask myself two questions. 1. Why would a father ask his little girl where he should touch her? 2. what kind of father would oblige if his little girl asked such a thing. OMG, this was a light bulb moment for me. How could I have not seen this before. How could I thought it was only on my little shoulders, or that it was all my own fault. For over fifty-five years I have been silent and held the blame as my own. Somewhere in the back of my cerebral thoughts I know I must have been touched from the crib onward. It makes me furious.
To think of being touched from infancy makes me want to scream at him and slap him but he has been gone many years now so I can never have closure with him.
Tell me why? why would a father do this ? I am so angry at myself for being so blind and so disgusted with the thought that it started from infancy but it's the only thing that makes any sense. Knowing this is what drives me to the brink of desperation wanting to know the whole story. My brain actually hurts sometimes trying to remember things a little girl should never have to remember. There was never penetration only fondling that I can recall so then am I a child of incest? Such a dirty word.
When I let myself drift back to those days and memories I feel cheated, used, abused and bruised. I have never felt anger over this because I thought it was my own doing.. NOW I am beginning to feel angry and lost.
Daddy was an alcoholic. Well more then an alcoholic really, he was a wino, a fall down drunk. I do not recall when he began drinking. Around the time I noticed daddy was always drunk he also stopped touching me. He was not at home as much anymore. In my mind I think maybe with the discovery of bars and loose women to pick up his interest moved away from the obsession of me. So I guess in a way I should really be grateful that he began drinking, this may have saved me.
My first recollection of him being totally drunk is also my most embarrassing moment as a child. It was at my eighth birthday party. I got to invite about 8 little girls over. We had a big picnic table set up in the front yard with a barbie table clothe. There were colored balloons hanging from the big tree above and pink & white crepe paper that danced in the Summer breeze. Mom made my favorite birthday cake, spice with chocolate frosting. They didn't have money to spend on party hats so instead mom tied a big pink crepe bow in each girls hair. I can still see mom standing there with her big pregnant belly looking so pretty in her turquoise maternity blouse as each girl sat in the bow tie seat and she brushed and pinned and tied each one. Soon daddy woke up and I hoped he would stay indoors. He came staggering out, swaying from side to side. I thought he was going to fall so I went up to him to tell him to go in the house and lay down. He smelled of dead wine and I noticed he had forgotten to zip his fly. He had no under-briefs or boxers on and I could see the hair there and parts of him exposed. Let's just say I was totally and completely mortified. I could hardly wait for the parents to come pick up the other girls. At 8 years old I already wished the ground had opened up and swallowed me. I didn't even want to go back to school on Monday. How embarrassing my 8th birthday turned out to be. None of the kids were ever allowed to come to my house again. This was not the birthday party I had imagined.
I don't ever really remember him being sober much after that party. The story book fantasy family I had in my mind was so far from what I had to live. The only good thing about his drinking was that he stopped touching me for awhile. I don't remember ever being touched again after that 8th birthday. Well not by daddy anyway. You might think the story is over. Oh but wait, this is not the end this is the beginning.
Now I am about 9 or 10 sitting in the small wadding pool in the backyard far from the house. My brother got in the pool and sat beside me. "Do you want to play a game" he asked. He said he knew a game that we could play. I was little for 9 or 10 and looked maybe 6 or 7. "OK, How do you play"..I asked. He told me the game was called chicken and he would use his hand to walk up my leg and see how far he could get before I got chicken (scared) and stopped him. Well I really did not know he would put his fingers under my suit but I wasn't about to let him win, and after all I was use to being touched there by now. To me it was not a sexual thing at all. I didn't even know what sex was. He told me not to tell anyone, that it was our secret. I did keep the secret. It went on for close to five years. I actually do remember didget penitration. Oh how it sickens me to remember things like that. Again feeling shame and disgust with myself for allowing this to happen but it seemed quite the norm to me I'm sure having being molested already as part of my life. How does a child understand its wrong when it is presented to her almost from infancy as love from a father whom she worshiped and adored. I squirm in my chair even now thinking with discust that my childhood was broken from the start. I am not the first to be molested.. I am not the first daughter of a alcoholic/wino.. I am not the first to feel like I just couldnt feel at all. I have never had a sense of self esteem and still don't. I wear a mask that hides my tears on the outside but on the inside they are and always have been right there.. It feels like no amount of counciling or tears will ever be enough to make me feel whole again. I am frozen in fear. Fear of not knowing, fear of knowing, fear of finding hidden truths.
I find myself wondering if the two molsestation incidents with daddy were the only two. I think in the back of my mind I was to believe that if it was only twice then maybe it really was my fault. Maybe I can find daddy really did love me and not use and abuse me. I hear myself think these thoughts and I realize how rediculaus that is. After all I do remember 2 times.. my sister also feels she may have been molested. And then there is my aunt. Daddy's younger sister that only admitted on her death bed that my dad had molested her when she was a little girl. She held that secret and likely that guilt and self blame like I do for seventy-eight years.
The Rape: My husband had recrntly left me for another woman. I had tried to reconcile several times but each time he left again for the same older woman. I was so broken and this man an his wife were friends of ours. He came to me as a proctector and a friend just dropping by after work to check and see if me and the babies were alright. Although he often made it a point to tell me that my husband was an idiot to leave and that I was so much better then what he left me for there were never any sexual advances made. He never opened any discussion out of the ordinary although I noticed him glancing a lot at my swollen breats but I never breast fed out in the open or while he was there. I could feel him looking at me but I could not fathom what was going through his mind. He and his wife had been there for dinner numorous times when my husband and I were together. His wife knew he would be dropping by after work and would often call me to have me give him a message or tell him to drop by the store and pick something up (there were no cell phones then it was a different life. He was a friend and I probably would have trusted him with my life. How could I even imagine what he was planning?
He asked me to come help ready his home for his wife and their newborn arrival coming home from the hospital in a few days. They were close friends of my husbands and so I readily said yes. Well how could I even imagine what he had planned.
I left my 2 year old with mom and took my new baby with me.. I put the infant seat with my daughter on the kitchen table as I went about scrubbing down the nursery and downstairs bathroom. He came downstairs and asked me if I wanted something to drink. I had been working hard and was thirsty so I said yes.
Just one drink a ・Erite time・E which was a flavored beer sort of. Soon after the first few sips I began to feel dizzy and sick to my stomach. He told me to go lay on the couch because I was so disoriented. I staggered to the sofa and laid my head on the corner cushion. Mom always told me Keep your feet flat on the floor and you wont get into trouble. I remember thinking that but that was the last thing I remembered. Four or five hours later my then estranged husband showed up at the door angry. I was so sick and he was furious at me for having the baby there so late. I guess mom had called him when I did not come home for hours.
He was angry at me but he did not even suspect a thingin regards to the situation. How could he? Even I did not remember what transpired that night and I wish it had remained that way.
Not eating and being on tranquilizers due to the messy separation and pending divorce I was going through could have affected me I thought. Perhaps the mix of the tranqs and the one drink ?? Maybe that was why I was drawing a blank
Where did the hours go that night? Why was the cleaning never finished?
What happened there that night? Why could I not account for almost five hours of my life?
Days and weeks and months past but still I could not fill in the blank pages of that evening. About eight months to a year later I began to have little flashes of memories, flashbacks...
The flashbacks were strong and visual. Him asking me what I would do
if he came over to me on the couch. Him asking me if I had ever been with a large man before? By large I think he was meaning heavy, overweight.
I could hear his questions but I could never hear my answersand so I blamed myself. Over the next year or so the flashes of memories became more real and larger than life. I began to remember bits and pieces, not everything but I began to suspect what had really happened there that night. I could remember
him there so heavy on my small framed body. (He was about 350 pounds and I was a frail 90 pounds.) I remembered his brother coming in the front door. We were on the sofa, him ontop of me.. I remembered his brother bending down over the sofa side and kissing me deeply. I had never met his brother before. I wanted to stop them but I was powerless. My arms went limp and I could not use them. I wanted to yell out for help but I could not speak. I had no power or contol whatsoeverover my own body. I remember the two of them there and its hard to imagine them there having their ways fill with me powerless to stop them.
However the worst part of that night for me is the fact that I did not know where my baby was. She was only four months old.. Was she alone, crying, wet, hungry? I guess I never will.. to be continued.........
I am realizing now that though i have always had low self esteem and problems in life and felt somewhat isolated they have never been as strong as since 2010. My being disorganized and feeling overwhelmed these feelings of OCD playing out strongly since 2010.. I want control of my life back.