What You Did

                                                                                                        What You Did

          This is to my father and all the other fathers who think their tiny little secrets won't be remembered.  We do, finally, remember and realize why we have made so many self-destructive choices. We still have to clean-up our own mess of a life but, at least, we know why.

          I have, intensely, hated you for over twenty years. Recovering memories, showing me what you did, was devastating. It told me that most of my bad choices were because of you. It's taken a long time to put my world back together.

          I've tried to forgive you. This forgiving would help me, but not you, because you wouldn't understand it.
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          I kept saying the words 'I forgive' but it never worked. I tried to mean it but that internal concrete core of hatred for you continued.

          I didn't want to confront you while you were alive because I was already the crazy emotional one in our family. Confrontation would only increase the crazy. You would have looked astonished, telling me you DID NOT do this.

          I've been wondering for years what I could do to destroy this last major angst. So, I've decided to write out all the things I felt, the value you reduced me to by your sick (maybe, evil) behavior.

          While you were molesting me with drink in hand, enjoying the perverse pleasure enough to keep doing it and doing it, you were turning me into a massively damaged person from the age of two.

          I have to do this, It's one of my attempts to remove this hatred.


                    You taught me my place, a submissive victim.

                    You taught me I was a thing, not really any value to myself or anyone else.

                    You taught me how to keep my mouth shut; no matter what someone else was doing to me.

                    You taught me to act like a victim: submissive, withdrawn, isolated, making me easy pickings for the teacher in elementary school.

                    You taught me how not to recognize caring.

                    You taught me that real men use sex and violence and fear; the kind of men I chose. I never understood why it never ever made me happy.

                    You taught me if I just had sex with someone, he would love me and give me a life I could only dream of.

                    You taught me if someone said love, they owned me.

                    You taught me HOPE didn't exist.
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                    You taught me GOALS didn't exist.
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                    You taught me BELIEF didn't exist
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The equation in my head is:


                                Molestation pleasure =so much damage


          But I want to move forward.

          I hope you can read this, wherever you are (I'm pretty sure it's not Heaven).

          I hope this helps me.


WC 452