Ever since I told her dad molested me, the way she interacts with me has completely changed. It’s like she feels she has to walk on eggshells with me now or something. I can understand it to a point, but she seems to have forgotten how I’ve gone on for years with relative normalcy, even while the molestation was happening without her knowing. Maybe it’s unreasonable, but I can’t help but feel just a little insulted. She’s complimented me for how strong-willed I always am but it’s like I suddenly appear weak and in frequent need of being checked up on. It’s getting on my nerves.

What’s bothering me most though is her being set on how the last couple of times happened was when I was 18 and 20. I shared with some details about that without getting graphic, but I don’t like how she was questioning me. It was like she’s trying to see if it was consensual because I was an adult by that point, like she doesn’t have much empathy that I might’ve allowed it to happen but that doesn’t mean I wanted it to. She hasn’t come outright said that and I could be completely, but that’s how it’s feeling. I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep my cool if she carries on about it.

This is making thing twice about bringing her along for my therapy sessions. I might just talk it over with her soon and hopefully establish some kind of understanding, if need be. My mom did admit that she’s never had to address this issue firsthand ever in her life, so maybe she needs insight from someone who has. It’s just too bad to has to be from her own daughter molested by the man she married, no less. It’s times like these where I can’t help but lose my cool and ask “Why did this have to happen?”

We went over me having broke the news to my mom about my dad having molested me. I was questioning myself a lot over how I reacted to it myself, but my therapist advised me not to pay it a whole lot of thought, so I guess I won’t. I expressed how disappointed I was on how it went and she provided a good point in that there’s never a proper way to open up to others about childhood molestation, that all that matters is my mom knows now. I mentioned bringing my mom along for these therapy sessions (an idea that came to mind then and there) and my therapist said my mom’s more than welcome if she wishes to join. I think that would be good because my mom, as mentally tough as she is, could use the help herself. I’ll mention it to her soon.

Ever since I finally told my mom about what my dad did to me for 20 years, a whole load of other memories of being molested began coming back to me, akin to how it happened after my dad died. I may or may not decide to write about them here, there’s a bunch lingering in my head for some reason. Interesting how what triggers all these traumatic memories for me has been related to both of my parents. I can only wonder why? I do have a therapy appointment today, so maybe my therapist can give me some insight. But there’s so much to cover now, I’m not sure we’ll have time to go through it all.

What an absolute cluster these past few days have been. Might as well take it from the top…

My mother caught wind that I’ve been in therapy these last several weeks. She assumed it was because I was distraught over my father passing away. I tried telling her not to worry about it but then she started talking “Oh, it’s affected everybody. You can talk to me about it.” She also mentioned how I’ve seemed so emotionless over it, that I must be in shock and just would not stop! I lost my cool and outright told her I wasn’t going because I was upset over him dying, but because he molested me for 20 years.

Her response was that of genuine shock. She only made me repress myself once when she first asked “What,” to that. I must’ve said it with enough conviction that she knew I was telling the truth. When she remained silent in shock, I further explained that I had suppressed everything that had happened for years up until he died, after which everything started coming back to me and that’s why I was only addressing it now.

It looked like she didn’t know whether to cry or be angry. I won’t go into full detail into all that was discussed, but as I had figured, she really had absolutely no clue over what was happening. But also as I feared, she attached a lot of blame to herself. I didn’t comfort her. I feel a bit at a loss over whether or not my mom should have known, something I plan to take up with my therapist tomorrow. Anyway, I didn’t disclose what he did to me much at all. She asked about the details, but I told her it didn’t matter. I’m not so sure if she needs to know. That’s something else I’ll discuss with my therapist.

I only mentioned the earliest I remember it happening, how often it had happened at certain points and the last time it happened when I was 20. My mom did eventually break down and cry to me. She apologized profusely for not knowing and wished I had told her. The way she said it bothered me, like it was in a way of lacking empathy on why I didn’t, so I reprimanded her on that. I couldn’t shed any tears during this discussion. I started off angry with how I broke it to her, but that’s about the only emotion I displayed. That concerns me too because I expected it to be a lot more difficult for me. All something more to take with my therapist.

This happened on Wednesday and now my mom’s been contacting me almost every day to ask how I’m doing. I tried explaining that it hasn’t had that much traumatic impact on me, but bless her for being concerned anyway. This is not how I wanted this to go at all. But from what I’ve gathered on the topic of finally opening up it family about childhood molestation, it never really goes the way you want it to. I was left a little confused and am still second-guessing myself over how I handled it. I’ll hopefully have an insightful answer tomorrow. At least my mom knows the truth now.

When I was 15 and started being molested on a daily basis by my father, I would occasionally give hints to him that I didn’t want him to be doing what he would do to me once he’d start making his advances on me. I would tell him things like I wasn’t in the mood for it (even though I never was by that point) or that I had a bad day, but he would always have some smart little retort for everything and just continue with what he was doing. The things he would say are pretty maddening now that I think about it. He always said it with this smart alecky tone too. It’s as if he knew what I was trying to do and that was his way of making it clear I wasn’t getting out of it. I don’t know if that was the case, but that’s how it felt. Looking back on it, it makes me even madder either way.

Here’s an example of what I just said. One time I remember I had a really bad day at school. A couple friends of mine had completely turned on me when someone who they found to be a better friend than me didn’t like me, so they decided to “side with” her. Teen drama BS, but it hurt my feelings at the time. And then I learned another close friend of mine had gotten in a car wreck and was in the hospital. I went home feeling very sad and it didn’t help knowing what would be waiting for me once I got home: my dad.

When I got home, everything started off okay for a little while. I had just laid down on the couch and my dad was off doing his own thing. Then, sure enough, he approached me. He knelt down beside me, lifted up my shirt and started kissing and licking my stomach. I told him outright “I had a bad day,” he stopped for a moment and looked at me, saying “Oh… Well here, I’ll help you feel better.” He undid my pants and started pulling them down. I spoke again “I’m just gonna rest.” He responded with “I’ll have you resting pretty good here in a moment.” By this point, I just gave up and let him go down on me. He gave one final jab after he finished by telling me to let him know when I’m having a bad day again, implying he’d make me feel better by giving me oral sex. He was doing that every single day, but whatever.

There was another time during the Summer when I was hanging out with family and friends at a creek owned by my grandparents. My mom would show up on occasion to just sit in the sun. My dad didn’t like summer weather so he wouldn’t come, which was good for me because it allowed me to get away from him for the day. This time, however, he did come along with my mom and as soon as I saw him, I grew uncomfortable. I was in my bikini and knew he’d be eyeing me up - something he was also doing often. He was wearing sunglasses, but I could still feel his eyes on me the whole time. I did my best to ignore it.

After a while, I made the mistake of announcing I had to go to the bathroom. Then my dad stands up and says “I should probably take a leak myself.” Great… He followed me to the two porta potties nearby and tried getting me to sneak off with him behind some bushes. I don’t remember what exactly he said and I don’t know if he intended to eat me out right there (which he wasn’t above) or just kiss and touch my body, but I was actually able to get away from him this time. I kept insisting that I had to go to the bathroom. My dad must’ve been desperate for some gratification because he was practically begging for me to go with him. One thing I remember he said was “Come on, just for a minute,” in this a pitiful pleading tone. I told him “Dad, I really have to go bad!” I said it with some emotion in my voice because I was scared and also desperate to get away. He finally said “Fine,” and just went back to the creek.

That was a rare instance where I was actually to get out of being molested by my dad. Though he still didn’t quite take the hint. One might ask, why didn’t I just tell him that I didn’t want it? As I explained in previous entries, I would always be too scared to. My dad had been molesting me my whole life and it got to where I would ...

[ Continued ]