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raveninhaven

Missing him

I love him. I hate him. I miss him. I want nothing to do with him. I wish he was dead. I wish he was in jail. I would never wish upon him the abuse pedophiles receive in prison. I want to tell everyone. I'm too embarrassed to tell anyone. 

I am so tired of all these mixed feelings. I should hate him. My father didn't care enough about his kids not to molest them. He willingly sacrificed my wellbeing. But I have to consider the fact that he's a sociopath, so can I even blame him? Yes, I can. But... how much? He says he doesn't remember doing anything to me. He said he never desired his children. He said he never intended to hurt us. He said he had to think for hours after reading my letter to contemplate whether or not he was capable of doing something like that. 

I know he is a broken, very very broken man, but I'm tired of caring. I want a father so badly. I always have. But he's not even remotely close to a father I would choose, so it doesn't matter if I don't have him in my life. But it does, because he is my dad...... 

raveninhaven

Poem

I have not yet been able to find a title to this poem, but I started writing and it just flowed out of me so peacefully and it drained my body of some of the negativity my father has left behind. Long way to go, but I'm glad to find a good outlet! I hope you guys like it! Thanks for your time :throb:

 

My heart aches

My mind wakes

These thoughts won't seem to go away

The thought that maybe one day

I'll be at ease

No longer begging you please

The thought that one day

I'll be able to say

Dad, I don't care.

I don't care that you can't love me

Not in the way love should be

For those who love truly

Could never harm so cruelly.

They wouldn't put on their child

Darkness that drives the mind so wild

You wouldn't touch the forbidden fruit

Then keep secrets hidden in your suit

When questions raise

You still soak in undeserving praise

Because what it comes down to

Is that you are too selfish to

Forget about your pedestal

To rid of the demons who lure

Around your daughters hearts

For they are tearing lives apart

But you don't care

Not for our tears

Only for your own pain

And knowing that is what keeps me sane

Because dad, we are not the same.

And I may not be completely tame

But I know never to put my desires above someone else's needs

because that negativity plants seeds

That cause the bad thoughts to grow

But I will never be the source of this i truly know

Because dad, we are not the same.
 

raveninhaven

Decisions Made

I decided today to report my father for molesting me when I was a child. Here's my story, and it is the very first time I'm telling it ......

I remember two different lives I had as a kid, yet at the same time I barely remember anything. My mom always told me we were a happy family, that I had a good mom, a good dad, and good sisters. We were a Catholic family, I went to a Catholic school, we had enough money, our family would go have dinners and do normal things with other families, and I was told we all were good people. If I caught my parents arguing my mom would always assure me everything was fine, that her and my dad would never get divorced, that they loved each other and that arguments just happen. She told me this over and over and over again, and I believed her, because children believe their parents, deep down I knew it wasn't true, but I had no idea just how untrue it was. 

Skip forward many shitty years of confusing feelings i had no idea how to deal with or where they came from. Looking back, I can easily say I was depressed, but I didn't really know I was, because I didn't know the difference. In fourth grade, a girl my family knew was raped in a corn maze by two older guys who drugged her, beat her, and threatened to kill her and her family if she told anyone. Finding out about that was very hard for me, and I started feeling the feelings I now know so well. I stopped turning in homework, started hanging out with other trouble makers, and, started getting weird urges that caused me to sit on the edge of my chair. Fifth grade comes around and my sister dares me and my best friend, who was also a girl, to make out, take off each other's clothes, etc. The next morning my mom noticed I had a hickey, but didn't think anything of it, I guess. This is when my depression got bad, and I knew it very well.  I thought I was pregnant. I hadn't gotten my period, we didn't have sex, we were both girls, but I thought everyone would stare at me because I was a pregnant 10 year old. A month later I found out my oldest sister was raped, and my struggles increased drastically. I started getting uncomfortable with my mom hugging, kissing, and cuddling me, and she was not happy about that. At this point, she had suspicions about my dad but I still had no idea. She told me it was mean not to let her be affectionate with me and would say "I'm not poison." She could bring me to tears by kissing my neck and even know when she knows everything she doesn't respect my physical boundaries; she never has. When I was in sixth grade I found out my dad had been addicted to porn and everyone in my family knew but me. A year later I found out something sketchy happened with my oldest sister, but didn't know what. A year after that I found out he convinced my mom and sister that my sister was schizophrenic and was hallucinating naked women on the computer screen. It sounds wild, but he convinced my mom, my sister, and their therapist, so they spent thousands of dollars getting her tested and it wasn't for 10 months that my dad admitted to watching porn. My mom saw this as no reason to divorce my dad, because, as she always told me, she wanted me to have a father. Okay, but then that therapist they had all gone to see, told my mom to be careful because it wouldn't be out of his character to molest any of his three daughters. At that point, I think he had molested all of us at least once, but I don't think it was over yet. 

Throughout middle school, everyone called me a w**re. I didn't have sex with anyone, but they knew my sister, who was 13, had, so therefore I was going to, too. It was middle school that I became popular, but it was also then that I became a target. I was the girl who was going to get her ass grabbed walking down the street; I was the girl who old men would approach; I was the one who got offered money in exchange for several favors. Out of my friends, it was always me who got harassed. I kissed a lot of boys, and was boy crazy and was a bit too sexually focused for my age. When my period came in sixth grade, that screwed me up. I had to touch myself down there?? I had to talk to someone about touching myself down there????? No thank you. I didn't tell anyone, and had horrible hygiene, honestly, for the first two years of having my period. I didn't want to feel that and I didn't want to like it. I would bleed through and smell bad and it is so embarrassing thinking back to that. Thank you dad for making my awkward phase 10x more awkward. 

Now we've reached high school. My freshman year sucked for the most part, but I met a boy who I really really liked. He was the first boy I ever actually liked. We starting dating at the beginning of summer and had a great summer together. About a week before school starts, I was messaged by a boy who had just graduated, and I was just about to start my sophomore year. He asked if I wanted to drink with him and his friend and go to boulder, so I said yes. It was the beginning of my party phase, but my boyfriend didn't party, so may as well make other friends who do, right? Well, we ended up going to his friend's apartment and they got me very very drunk. He knew I had a boyfriend and wasn't wanting to do anything, but it didn't matter. He didn't have sex with me, but he did everything else to me, but I did nothing to him. When I was telling my doctor about this in an STD test a few months later, she said "Well usually they do it for their pleasure, not yours." Thank you for that, doctor. Right after the occurrence I started acting weird, my boyfriend noticed, and I broke up with him because "I was sad my dad was moving out." I was not sad. I wanted my dad out so badly. My mom asked him to leave and he stayed for 7 months, and she let him!! Then a couple weeks after the break up, I still felt bad about the situation(not yet realizing I had been raped) and told him a boy tried to kiss me but I pulled away. He was so unhappy about that, so he told everyone! He told his friends, the football team, my dance team, and basically everyone he knew. Being a shy sophomore who was never secure about any part of my existence, I took it pretty hard when the most popular junior and senior from the football team told me how much they hated me, or when a girl on my team asked me about cheating on my boyfriend with a college guy in front of our whole team and some parents on the team. Because life likes to kick you when you're down, this was the same time period I starting getting really really sick(which is why I got the STD test). I was constantly in severe pain. I could rarely keep food down, and there would be days where I couldn't even keep down water. My health took over my life for the next 3 years and it was all in my stomach. I had 9+ diagnoses and saw so many different doctors I lost track. I have endometriosis, but I have no idea how I got it. No one in my family has had it, which is the only known reason for it. Weird. I did end up reporting that boy for hurting me, but nothing came out of it. No regrets. 

I wasn't promiscuous for most of high school because my sophomore year I started dating a boy and we dated until a month or so ago, however, we did break up for one summer when I was 17. That summer I was raped twice within two weeks. I didn't even know one of the guys' names. It didn't even seem to phase me. I always questioned if I had been molested, but I thought I would remember that. After this happened, I started thinking about it more. By now I knew we were questioning whether he molested my sister(the one who had me and my friend touch each other) but my mom referred to me as the "untouched" one, so I didn't find much room for my curiosity. 

Now, I am 18 years old, just started my second semester of college, and can say I've never felt happier or healthier now that I have moved out of my house. It's amazing how moving out has cleared everything up. I still don't remember him actually touching me, but I have remembered all these things and much much more that tells me exactly that. For the past year, I've been saying he did, no he didn't, yes he did, no he didn't, but he did. My gut is telling me he did and I'm finally ready to listen to it. But it is hard. I'm constantly remembering new little things that click but find myself having no one to talk to. My mom has a very very very hard time being supportive, and it's hard talking to my sisters about it, because none of us have fully accepted it and we all shut down. I told my dad a few weeks ago I wanted space because I was questioning things that happened to me when I was a kid and he said "Okay." I told him we could still talk if he wasn't going to be passive aggressive and he said something else then said "Well, this is awkward, isn't it?" Chuckled and changed the subject. What is that shit? Both of my sisters are working on writing him letters to tell them they no longer want a relationship with him. We are all ready to move on(my mom, not quite) and I need to talk about it, so I am going to report it. I did report the first boy who molested me when I was 15, even after he tried to convince me I was asleep the whole time and dreamt it. It took all the courage I had, he never got in an ounce of trouble, but I didn't regret it, and I hope it is the same this time. I would like my dad to be in jail, but more importantly, I want to be able to talk about it. If you have read this far I am very grateful for your support and would ask you to wish me luck with prayers, positive vibes, or whatever way you try to send goodness; I would certainly appreciate it!!

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