When she became disabled a few years ago, I moved my son out of his bedroom to relocate my mother across the country into our house. Now days with all this emphasis on abuse I am torn between judging my father as evil or just weak or even just someone in need of love after my mother rejected him. I was treated as his prize possession but had had total control. He did the same to himself, and applied the oil to his penis. When he saw how my parents had no faith in me, he became even more confident with his act.
Late at night in his bed we would chat and he would hold me against him so tight that I could hardly breathe or he would make me lay on top of him. It was close to 3 a. My mom was notified by my school and once again everyone from the school and my own mom hid it and basically told me I was crazy. I've blocked a lot of the details out but i remember being told to shower afterwards while he watched and not to tell anyone or he would disappear and I would never see him again. He gave me a gift that I keep as a relic. It was then when he found the window of opportunity to step into our lives. In the hospital I came to know that my vagina was torn and the uterus had been severely hurt.
She made a decision I would not have made, and yet, I still knew that she loved me, that in her own way, given the limitations of her own life, she did the best she could. From then on dad started to rape me whenever he got the chance. I still suffer from panic attacks, especially in situations when I have little to no control. My mother does not know. I said I was hurting, but he did not care.
He would ring me in the middle of the night in a state and I would do everything I could to try to reassure him. He said he loved me. He hated paying child support, drank too much, smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, and sat around a lot complaining about being poor. That horrible phase of my life, when all I had was pain and suffering has made me the woman of steel that I am today. Editor's Note: It was extremely difficult to edit this story without the thought of going after this man with full force. In majority of the cases, both are deeply in love with each other. My mom was a natural entertainer.
My insensitive parents knew everything but they kept quiet. Dad started to give me a drug called amyl nitrate, also known as poppers, on a few occasions before abusing me too. Please ensure you understand 's rules before posting or commenting. He always had lots of girlfriends and he would take me with him to stalk them. At 71, she now lives with us, and at times helps take care of her two youngest grandchildren.
I got to see a recording of this interview a few years ago and he basically tried to convince them that I was crazy and that he was innocent. Dad disappeared into the house, I thought to get some sleep. My mother watched her mom leave an unstable marriage and go on to support herself. That man is dead now. I had no idea other families lived differently.
Act I and my mother did not suspect anything wrong. After all, I loved my mother. He should have never seen us as clients in the first place. I was a girly girl who loved Barbies, Hello Kitty and Smurfette. Is it actual sexual pleasure or just the nice feeling that comes from close contact with someone you love, like you would a friend? The abuse had stopped but the mental control he exerted on me continued.
The term presumes that you are providing information that you believe other people in your life are not aware of, and for this subreddit is associated with an admission of a moral or legal wrong. My dad was a primary school deputy principal and a drunk and my mother is an old fashioned, strict but kind woman. I ignored my gut reaction to curl up on a couch and slam my eyes shut for the night. Nobody knew about the rape and abuse until years later when I was 13 and I told my sisters boyfriend, who of course told my sister and she told mum. But I still laugh with my whole body, I still speak with my hands, jump up and down too many times when something exciting happens. He pushed himself inside me, and did it repeatedly.
It was small and he my father. I froze with fear, before panicking, leaping off him and running upstairs — scared and confused. I was young, naive, and dumb so I went for those lessons with absolute faith in humanity. We blurred the lines between friend and caretaker quite often. I am sorry that happened to you.
After he ejaculated inside me he just left me there crying in my bed. At the time, I didn't think it was weird or unusual for my dad to be doing this and I was happy that he was giving me attention, I thought it was normal. Are you currently in therapy? The first rape was in my own bed at night and very traumatic. Please Remember To Remain Kind and Civil This is intended to be a safe place. Telling my story is one of the most important things I will ever do because it finally means I can start living my life free from his evil clutches. He was jailed for eight years in May last year and Sylvia feels like a weight has been lifted.