When I was 12 I didn’t know I couldn’t get pregnant by kissing
and fondling. I was scared. I was even more scared because the person
who was doing the kissing and fondling was my father. I wanted to make
him stop, especially after he went on to touch my two younger sisters in
the bedroom we shared, but I thought if I told, it would destroy my
family.
When I was 39 years old, I had an overwhelmingly frightening
nightmare about my father coming into my bedroom to sexually abuse me,
but this time in my own home. This was a safe space that I had created
for myself as a loving adult. I thought I was done dealing with the
sexual abuse, but I realized that the abuse I experienced as a child was
still a family secret. I finally confronted my father with the abuse
and he did acknowledge what he had done.
At the time, I thought that this confrontation would be enough. Three
years later when I saw a photograph of my father holding my young
niece, I realized I had to talk about this within my whole family if I
wanted my niece to be safe.
I call this a story of hope because in this second confrontation my
father admitted what he did — not just to me, but to the whole family —
and apologized. The family is now aware that we have a problem that
can’t be buried any longer, even though they wish it would just go away.
It’s a story of hope because maybe more abusers will understand they
can admit what they did and help their families heal. Maybe more
survivors of abuse will realize they can confront the history that
haunts them and regain control over their lives.
Don’t get me wrong — this story does not have a fairytale ending.
Life isn’t usually like that. The first time I confronted my father was
in a letter after I had a nightmare that was really a flashback to when I
was 12 and my father came into my room at night to fondle my breasts
and kiss me. But in my dream, my father was in my own house, the home
and safety I created for myself as an adult.
After a couple of years, he stopped touching me, but it was worse
watching him kiss and fondle my younger sister. When I caught him
touching her, he would tell me to go away and I would simply walk away. I
was the oldest. I was supposed to protect my younger sisters, and I
couldn't. I'd lie awake in bed at night and try to figure out how to
stop him. I thought if I could just understand why he was doing this, I
could make him stop.
I wrote that first letter nearly 20 years after I left home for
college. My father acknowledged what he did, but that was it. My sister,
who had just given birth to a daughter, wrote me a long letter. She was
afraid, she said, that if her husband found out about the abuse, it
would ruin her marriage. She asked why it was coming up now and why I
wanted to hurt mom and dad. After all, she wrote, "dad never hurt us, he
meant no harm". She urged me to resolve this in my own mind so we could
be a family again, and so that I would not live in regret if my parents
died before we were reconciled.
I had very little communication with my family during this time. The
communication I did have was minimal and there were no family visits
except for major holidays. After three years of further silence around
the sexual abuse, I received a photograph from my sister of my dad
holding my three-year-old niece. A chill went up my spine. He molested
his own daughters, so how could my sister trust him with her daughter?
To keep my niece safe I had to bring it all up again and make sure the
whole family understood about dad sexually abusing us.
I called and asked my parents if they would come to one of my therapy
sessions. My dad didn’t argue: where and when I wanted him there was
all he asked.
When I got to the therapist’s office, my parents were already there.
My mother was crying, "What are you doing to me?" I had to explain that
this session wasn’t about her, it was about me and the pain I had been
through. She said that when I was a child, she felt trapped, too. "I
told your father not to go into your bedroom, but he still did. I just
didn’t know what to do to stop him."
My father first tried to excuse his actions by saying that in the
culture of the time, "my daughters were my property and I could do
anything I wanted to with them." At least he admitted the abuse. My
therapist said I should tell my parents what I wanted from them.
I wanted my father to tell my brother about the abuse and to
acknowledge to my two sisters that what he did to us as children was
abuse and to apologize to them. I was also very passionate about making
sure that everyone agreed to never let my niece be left alone with my
father, hopefully protecting her from any sexually abusive behavior. I
know he told my brother, who wrote me a letter of support. As far as I
know he apologized to my sisters. And we’re all involved in keeping my
niece safe.
I think my dad is "getting it" about his inappropriate actions, and
when he doesn’t I feel confident about talking to him directly. For
example, at their 50th anniversary party, he asked me to slow dance with
him. I looked him directly in the face and told him that this was not
something I could do with him. He respected my decision. A few days
later he called me to ask how I was doing and to apologize for his poor
choices in that situation. That feels like progress. Now, if only he can
learn to think about it before instead of after!
We're not living an everybody-lives-happily-ever-after fairytale.
It’s not easy. But I’ve done enough work on my own issues to let me
claim my own life and find my own sense of peace. My family isn’t
perfect by a long shot. But there’s hope.
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