I don’t really want to write about this, but I know that I have to if I ever have any hope of getting past this. The “this” that I am talking about is so hard for me to say, but I am finally going to put it into words, for the first time. When I was a very young child, probably six years old, I remember being asleep in my bed and waking up and seeing my daddy’s face above me. He was either trying to or he had already had his penis inside of me--he was raping me. My father molested me when I was a child. I cannot remember if it happened only once or if it happened more than once. I only remember that one episode so maybe it did only happen that once. Maybe my reaction made him feel so awful that he just couldn’t do it to me again. I don’t know. Pat says that she highly doubts that it was only once that he violated me, because that’s just not the MO of a child molester. But I keep trying to remember and I just can’t. I only remember that one incident. But I know it did happen that one time. I am as sure of that as I am my name. I remember it like it was yesterday. It is that clear in my mind. I can even remember how badly it hurt. I remember him telling me to just wait a minute and it wouldn’t hurt anymore. But the pain never stopped.
I never could figure out why, the whole time I was growing up, I hated him so much. I used to think that it was because I remembered the fights he and Mama had when I was so young. But that wasn’t it. I know that now. Now I know why I always hated him so badly. Now I know why I used to wish he were dead. Now I know so much.
I want to get over the bouts of nervousness that I have when I am sometimes alone. It seems to happen when I am not thinking about “it.” Usually, when I am very busy I’ll start to feel like I am not inside if my body and I am looking down on myself. I’ll start to move very fast at whatever I am doing and I feel very shaky and nervous. My movements get faster and faster and no matter how much I talk to myself and tell myself that I am OK and that everything is alright, nothing seems to work. I end up having to go and wake Nancy up and get her to just hold me. Then I begin to calm down and soon I am alright again. I want those episodes to stop.
I wish this had never happened to me. I am so sorry that this happened to me. It is just something else that has screwed up my life. It is one more reason that I am the fucked up person that I have turned out to be. It’s no wonder that I have made so many bad choices in my life. It’s no wonder that so much has turned out so badly for me in my life. Look at all that has happened to me and happened in my life. Pat says I am a survivor. Yes, I guess I am a survivor, I have survived a lot. I remind myself of one of those old Timex watch commercials, “Takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’” Yep. That would be me. I have taken so many beatings but still, I keep going. I mean, I saw my daddy hang himself, for God’s sake, had to beg my drunk mother to cut his sorry ass down, so he could beat her ass some more, no doubt, and still, I am here. Still I have some of my sanity. Well, that could be a matter of opinion, too. Maybe I’m as batty as a friggin’ loon, too. Who the hell knows, at this point? I sure don’t. Some days I think I am sane and then other days I know I am nutty as a fruit cake.
How can a person be molested as a child and then not know anything about it until she is 50 damn years old? How did I suppress this information for all those years? I have only been positive that this happened to me for the past several months and then I denied it for as long as I could before I finally nearly lost my mind and had to tell someone. So I went to Nancy with it. Like I do everything else. I am convinced that I would die without Nancy. Sometimes she can even make the nightmares stop. The nightmares are the worst part, you know. So many nights I sit up because I am so afraid to go to sleep because I know that he is going to invade my dreams. He has done it so many times. I now think he was the bear chasing me in those nightmares that I used to have as a child. I would be running and running as fast as I could away from this huge bear and I was always in our house. The chase would always end in the bathroom. I would wake up just before he caught me…every time. The reason I now think that it was him is because the dream always took place in whatever house we happened to be living in when I had the dream. He was always there.
Oh, how I hate him for what he has done to me. He’s been dead since 1989 and I really do hope that he is burning in hell.
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