Life Lessons

Daddy’s Little Girl

I think it’s time to share how being sexually abused has affected my life. How it fucked with my head, especially because of the fact my father was the one who abused me. The one man every little girl is supposed to feel safest with… the one man I was supposed to trust with my life. It’s no wonder I am fucking angry. I got fucking gypped in the parent department… so ya, I’m fucking pissed. He stole my innocence from me. He stole my chance at being the best step-mother possible. He made my life harder than it fucking needed to be. Do you think he feels guilty? Ashamed? Fuck no. Pedophiles, any type of abuser, do not give a shit how their actions affect their victims. They are fucking selfish. Oh and if they get away with it, even better. They live happily ever after, while the victims of these awful crimes spend years trying to figure out… What the fuck?!

I remember bits and pieces of the night it happened. He was a long distance truck driver and I had decided to go on a trip with him. Prior to this trip, as long as I can remember… he always looked at me, and not the way a father should look at his daughter. Every time I spoke with him, he could never help but have his eyes glance down… fucking repeatedly. Who knows what happened once I turned my back. I was young, it made me uncomfortable, but I thought nothing of it. So on this trip I remember I had gotten tired and got up to go to bed in the bunk. I remember like it was yesterday, I went to go on the top bunk then I thought “He wouldn’t do anything to me. I’ll just sleep on the bottom bunk tonight.” Boy was I fucking wrong… It still gives me goose bumps when I think about it. How my instinct had kicked in but I ignored it. How my Dad looking at my developing body had already changed my train of thought, changed my comfort around older men, pushed me out of the innocence that comes with being a child. My gut told me no, but my inner child ignored it because “Daddys” aren’t supposed to do those things to their little girls. And what were the fucking chances that it would happen the day that I had my first thought, EVER, about it even being possible that he would touch me like that. I now know why they say to always trust your gut.

I don’t remember him crawling into bed. I remember waking up to his hand up my shirt in the middle of my chest playing with the little bow on my training bra. I remember keeping my eyes closed hoping that if he thought I was still sleeping, he would go away. I remember a hand near my waist. I don’t clearly remember him going between my legs. All I remember is my throat feeling tight from holding back the screams in my head. I remember feeling like throwing up until he was done. I remember him sliding out of the bed and going and sitting in the front seat. Dead Silence. I was too scared to move. I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself. Once he started the semi back up I’m not even sure how I managed to fall back asleep. You wanna know what happened the next day? I woke up and pushed the sick memory into the back of my mind. Made a mental note to cover up in front of him going forward. I threw on a big baggy sweater and went to the front passenger’s seat. We both acted like nothing had happened.

I did what my young mind thought would be best. Ignore what happened. Ignore the fact he kept looking at me and my friends. Ignore the fact he could have possibly done this to someone else. Ignore the fact that he deserves to rot in jail. Ignore the fact he ruined my life. I thought what most victims think… No one will believe me. That was my grandma’s precious baby who could do no wrong, that was my mom’s meal ticket, my brother hates women so he would think I’m lying, everyone else had their own lives to live, my truth would have ruined everything. I was already looked at as an inconvenience to be alive so who the fuck would have cared or believed me. No one.

Shortly after the incident, I was at the lake with my grandparents and my uncle. My uncle (dads brother) and I are very close, he’s like the dad I never had. We had been in the water most of the day and were swimming around, he went to grab me to launch me in the water or who knows what, but he was just being playful and not in an inappropriate manner, I pushed him off me and yelled at him not to touch me like that and swam as fast as I could to get out of the water while he called after me saying he didn’t mean it in that way. That is my first memory of the incident surfacing and showing the new walls I had put up. From that day on, a man that I do feel safest with and trust my life with became someone I would only let close enough to me that I was comfortable with. Physically, it wasn’t close at all. I ended up completely shutting him out. No more big hugs. No more kisses. No more love.

I can see now that when I was in grade 7 and 8 is when I changed. I wasn’t as happy. I lashed out. Cried a lot. I probably had depression and didn’t know it. I covered up my body. People who got close to me, got close to me on my watch. Come highschool, I had the black hair and the dark eyeliner. My best friend had to convince me to dress more revealing every now and then (haha). I was happy in old jeans and a baggy sweater where no one would want to look at me in “that way”. I was your typical girl who had daddy issues. I slept around, trying to find attention in the wrong places to fill the void I felt, and I was angry at the world. Then came the drugs, the partying and the unhealthy relationship I stayed in because I felt I wasn’t good enough.

I sit and I see it all now. Ya before I was abused life was still shit. I was dirt poor, my mom physically abused my brother (I thought that was normal) and verbally degraded him, she was sneaking around on my dad, she was into that whole yahoo chat thing and was talking to men more time during the day than taking care of me, my dad was always gone on trips and he was probably fucking crackhead prostitutes on those trips (He’s engaged to one now, I’m not even exaggerating, they both smoke crack, and Ive seen her prostitute travel kit with condoms, toothbrush, granola bar etc..), our house had been raided because someone told the cops my dad had drugs there (I was 6), I’m 100% sure our house would have never passed code. But I honestly think I could have handled all that. Being sexually abused affected me the most. He fucking ruined me. Ruined my life.

I think the most fucked up part of it all was my denial. I made excuses for him. I told myself he didn’t know what he was doing, he was sleep walking, it was all a big fucking accident. I looked at him like a child who hadn’t learnt right from wrong. I made excuses for his actions while I suffered the consequences. I had nightmares often. When I would get intimate with a boyfriend, I would have flashbacks, I’d have to bite my lip and blink back tears so I wouldn’t have to explain what was going on in my head. I even went on a few more trips with him and worked for him for a few months. I pushed it so far back in my memory that I was able to act like life was fucking peachy.

It wasn’t until meeting my boyfriend that it sunk in. My boyfriend made me realize my worth. Realize what a good man is supposed to be like. Showed me that if he could love me unconditionally, I could love myself then too. Once that happened, I realized how fucking dumb I had been. I was protecting a man who is a master manipulator (he has taken 1000’s upon 1000’s of dollars from my grandma), he plays the victim, full of empty promises and worst of all, he likes to touch little girls. I will forever be angry at myself for protecting such a monster. I can not understand how that man is my father.

At the end of the day, the biggest way he changed me, is the one that cuts me the deepest. It makes me the most angry and the most upset at him.

Before I met my boyfriend, I had zero interest in kids. ZERO. Not because they can be really fucking annoying (Lol) but because I felt like I couldn’t be near them. I couldn’t touch them. I thought if my dad was the monster he was, I must be one too. I had his blood flowing through me. I was what he was. I was a pedophile. I was going to sexually abuse children too. Then, low and behold, I meet a man, who I am crazy about, that has a daughter. Oh fuck. I was worried because I didn’t know anything about parenting, or even kids in general. All I could think of to do was dive in and hope for the best. Luckily, she warmed up to me right away. And soon, becoming a stepmom became one of the best things to ever happen to me. I was very hesitant at first to be affectionate to her. I couldn’t help but have a little voice in my head saying “Don’t touch her, she will think you are being inappropriate and want something else.” I kept my distance, but that cute little innocent face didn’t care about those evil thoughts. She knew I wasn’t the monster I thought I was. And I looked at her with so much pain in my heart thinking how anyone could ever do something so awful to something so precious. It killed me. I tear up as I write this, the anger I feel, if anyone ever did anything to her, I’d fucking kill them. Now, over the last 6 years, she has broken down my walls. I hug her, I tell her I love her, we even cuddle sometimes. I’m still cautious to this day, I think I will always be to an extent, but she changed me. She changed me by loving me, and showing me I’m nothing like my father. She showed me how to love. She will never know how thankful I am that she came into my life or how much I love her.

I am also so thankful for my friends always loving me and also helping me heal by letting me be an Aunty to all their children. I love them all dearly. Thank you a thousand times.

I feel I have missed so much but I don’t want the post to be too long (it already is), I’ll maybe make a pt.2. I honestly feel relief to finally be able to openly talk about it. Maybe some of this anger I have within will start to disappear. I hope my family reads this and see’s my dad for the “man” he really is. He ruined my life, the least I can do is ruin his. I will never be one of those victims that sit here and say “I forgive you.” What you did was unforgivable. What I will say is, is that my past does not define me anymore. What I have experienced is not who I am. I have a beautiful life with a family that actually loves me (My inlaws, My aunty fam in T.O and my Uncle) and the best group of friends I can’t wait to grow old with. He can no longer take anything from me. He no longer has any control of me. He gets nothing from me ever again. He does not deserve me.

He never did.



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