I don’t know why this memory keeps coming to mind lately, but maybe writing about it will vent it out.

When I was 13, I had a circle of friends who just so happened to have great dads they would brag about sometimes. One only lived with her dad and had such a great relationship with him, she said he was more like a big brother. One had a strict mom but a laid back dad who would always let her get away with stuff. One had a bad relationship with her mom because she’d say she overly strict and controlling but her dad would always take her side. Another I don’t remember too much since I only knew her for a short time, but I recall her talking fondly of her dad too. Whenever my friends would get talking about their dads, I would always stay quiet. I don’t remember them asking me about my dad, but if they did, I’d probably just say “Oh yeah, my dad’s cool.” But he wasn’t. They all had the sweetest dads and then there was me - mine was scarring me for life whenever he had me alone and had been doing so for years!

Hearing my friends talk about their dads made me come to the realization about my situation with my dad. He was molesting me! I always sort of knew what was happening couldn’t have been right. My dad would sometimes tell me what he would do was his way of showing how much he loves me and it was all normal, but I never fully bought into that. I just knew there was no way all dads were doing this with their kids and it definitely wasn’t normal. Yet I still enjoyed it and would just live in the moment whenever it happened. This can’t be right, but it feels great, so whatever. I didn’t care. I sure did once the gravity of how royally messed up it was hit me. This was serious! I had to put a stop to it, but I couldn’t. I would always tell myself the next time he did it, I’d tell him I don’t want him to anymore. But I never had the courage to do so.

At the time though, I thought my dad might just stop one day to where I wouldn’t need to tell him no. After I turned 13, he started doing it less than he would before. It started when I was 8 and he would do it at least once a week until I was 12. Now he was doing it every few weeks. One time, he even went more than a month without doing it. Sometimes I thought if I just wait it out and endure it, he’ll eventually stop on his own. I’m well aware of how insane that sounds, but that’s how I thought at the time. I was dead wrong, of course. When I was 15, he started doing it every day for nearly a year and it almost got even worse!

I started hating myself for letting it to go on. For always being too afraid to do anything about it. Especially when I’d try readying myself for when I’d finally tell him to stop, but every time became “This is it, I’m saying it this time!” I’ve gotten better with the self-contempt, but every now and then, I’ll still berate myself in my head for never having the guts to say a simple two-letter word that could very well stopped it then and there. I know it’s not logical to think that because it could just as easily not have stopped it and it doesn’t matter anyway. What happened happened and what’s important is dealing with it rather than focusing on the what-ifs. At least now, I’ll finally get to properly deal with it when I have my first counseling appointment two days from now at the time I’m writing this.

I was able to get an appointment set up for therapy next Monday. That was quick and easy. It still kinda scares me, but I’m glad I did it. We’ll just see how it goes. I had it in my mind that on Thanksgiving, I was going to tell my mom about my recently deceased dad having molested me for years. Thanksgiving was one of the few instances where I would see my dad after it happened and I just know someone is going to mention how this is our first Thanksgiving after his passing. I thought I could at least tell my mom the truth about him, but when it comes down to it, I’m backing out. I’ll maybe try again around Christmas. Hopefully by then, I’ll have been in counseling a long enough time to where I can feel more confident about telling my family.

For 20 years, my dad molested me and got away with it while everyone else remained oblivious. He only ever almost got caught a few times. Just a few. This will be another graphic entry recounting those times, so here’s another fair trigger warning.

The first time I remember was when I was 9. I was standing in the living room while he was seated with his head buried between my legs as usual, when suddenly these two men appeared right outside the living room window. They were contractors who showed up to work on a pipe that was right below that particular window. My dad cussed and told me to go to my room. I quickly pulled up my pants and ran. Those two men were below the window working on the pipe, so they didn’t see a thing. My dad went out and talked to them for a bit, probably making sure they didn’t see him going downtown on his 9 year-old daughter. After he was done, he came in my room all mad at me, asking why I didn’t tell him they were outside. They were in my field of view, but I had my eyes closed and was in my own little world, so I didn’t know they were there either. But by that point, my dad had me wrapped around his finger so I probably would have alerted him if I had noticed them.

Two other times were when I was 15 and when my dad started molesting me pretty much every day. He’d have me to himself for a couple hours when I’d come home from school and before my mom would get off work. One time my mom came home early unexpectedly while he was in the middle of it. He freaked out and hurriedly put my pants back on for me. Then he told me to get up and practically shoved me toward the kitchen and told me to act like I was doing dishes. When I hesitated, he snapped at me and repeated his order. I turned on the sink and acted like I was cleaning dishes just in time for mom to walk through the door. I don’t remember why she got to go home early, but she did and of course, didn’t suspect anything.

The other time at 15 was when my mom discovered a drop of my cum on the couch by accident. Her and I were sitting in the living room one night watching TV while dad was at work for the night. My mom was sitting in the exact same spot where my dad ate me out hours prior. When I would cum, my dad would always swallow it, but I guess he missed some of it this time because my mom felt something wet where she was sitting and then smelled it. She got pissed off at me and said “What the hell is this?” I didn’t know at first, then she told me to smell it. My mom obviously thought I had masturbated on the couch. I acted like I didn’t know and she said “Yeah, well, I think you better clean that up right now.” Once I did, she told me “I don’t ever want to find that on my furniture again,” before going to her room in disgust.

The only other time I remember was probably the closest my dad came to being caught. I was 11 or 12 and it was one of those nights where he’d come in my room in the middle of the night to give me oral. That night went by like it always did, but the very next morning, my mom called me into the kitchen to come sit down with her. She said “So, I got up last night to get a drink of water and…” A moment or two silence “I heard you all the way from your room.” I don’t know if she heard the usual moans I would make or if she heard me having an orgasm, but she clearly heard something. Only, she thought she had heard me masturbating and proceeded to have “the talk” with me right then and there. If only she had gone in my room to confront me, she would have seen what was really happening. But I’m almost glad she didn’t just so she didn’t have to see it. 

I have no idea where she thought my dad was that night, if she even questioned him being out of bed or if him being gone at night was some routine of his I didn’t know about (him molesting me at night wasn’t a regular occurrence yet). I don’t know. Some of you may think she might have known or suspected and just was in denial, but I don’t believe so. I know my mom. She had litt...

[ Continued ]

I’ve been in about three relationships in my life. One was a short-lived high school relationship when I was 16. The second started shortly after I moved out of the house at 20, which lasted a couple of years before that fell apart. The third lasted a good four years before we both parted amicably. I consider myself fairly attractive and have had number of suitors over the years, but I’ve seldom been interested in pursuing any relationship. Whenever I would be in a relationship, I would be fond of who I was with, but not enough to say I was really happy. Even now that I’m single going on three years, I still don’t have any interest in being in a relationship.

Sometimes, I think I’m asexual because most of the time, I just don’t feel any attraction towards anyone. All of my relationships have been with men and I’ve only ever felt any attraction towards men, so obviously I’m not asexual if there’s that. But again, rarely has there ever been someone who I wanted to be with in any way. I don’t even see myself ever getting married because 1) I don’t really believe in marriage and 2) I don’t think there will ever be anyone I want to have a serious long-term commitment with.

This is likely a direct after effect of my dad molesting me for so many years. But I’ve read varying accounts of fellow survivors who feel they have had their sexuality influenced from being abused growing up and others whose sexuality hasn’t been affected whatsoever as far as they can tell. It seems to be a slippery slope on whether or not sexual abuse can even impact one’s sexuality. It’s hard to imagine if I would still be this way even if I did grow up normally since it seems so abnormal to have little to no interest in romance or sex.

Even if I do end up finding a man I can spend the rest of my life with, there then comes the issue over whether or not I would tell him about how my dad molested me for 20 years. If I do, just how much do I tell him? Do I be vague and just say was molested or do I go into graphic detail on everything he would do to me? Do I even tell him at all or decide he’s just better off not knowing? I’m sure I probably won’t have to worry about this for some time yet since, again, I’m single and not looking to mingle. But it’s just something that came to mind. Another problem to look forward to as a result of my dad molesting me

Perhaps it’s a sign that my problems in the long run are only beginning.

I’ve noticed I have something of a bad habit of comparing my case of molestation to fellow survivors cases. In the sense of me thinking or outright saying something like “Oh no, that’s much worse than what I went through.” As a logical person, I should know better and understand how negatively it can be perceived when I talk like that. It doesn’t matter how long one had to endure their abuse or how horrible it was. It’s all horrible and it’s not a damn competition! I don’t ever see any other survivors making comparisons like that. That should tell me something. I like to think I’m smart and able to handle myself when addressing this topic, but the reality is that I’m still fairly new to it and have a lot to learn. One could probably make the case that I shouldn’t even be talking about other peoples trauma when I haven’t overcome my own yet. It would probably be a more than fair criticism.