Tuesday, September 4, 2012

HOW CAN A FATHER SEXUALLY ABUSE HIS OWN DAUGHTER?

Currently, I'm reading two books, My Justice by Patricia A. McKnight and Mummy Knew, by Lisa James. Just as Tricia warned me, her book is hard to read. So is Lisa's. It is impossible to read books on incest abuse by a parent when one has themselves been sexually abused by a parent. With each word these brave women write, revealing intimate details of their own abuse, memories spring to mind. Visions pushed so far back and so far under over the years that you wonder if maybe you had just imagined them all, spring to life and affirm that yes, daddy really did abuse his little girl. The similarities between their stories and your own are jarring. You find yourself saying "Yes, that's how he got to me too!" "That's how he got me to keep quiet!" "That's how dirty I felt!" "That's how frightened I was!" 

And yet, both Patricia's and Lisa's story have one big difference from mine: in both their cases, the writer's mother had married low-life, foul-mouthed abusers whose brutality and abuse was exacerbated by their drinking. These creeps were their step-fathers, not a birth father, as was my case. I suppose it's easier to understand (if any incest can be understood) why a non-birth father who is essentially a pedophile to start with, could be drawn to a child, who is, after all, not his own, especially when she conveniently lives in the same house and must obey him as her new parent. What a huge advantage he has over her! It's interesting that both Patricia and Lisa felt some kind of instant revulsion and mistrust of these men when they were introduced into their lives by their mothers. They say puppies and dogs can sense evil in a human. These children did too but they were powerless to do anything about it.

My case, however, is different. With my mother, my father created me. His DNA runs through my blood. His advantage over me was huge but never would I have thought my birth father, someone I trusted with my life, whose job it was from word go to protect me from any harm, would take that kind of advantage of me. I didn't sense evil in him despite the harsh punishments he meted out for infractions when I was a child. I just figured they were deserved. So great is the belief and trust we have in our birth parents.

I watched a woman pushing her 3-4 month old in a pram today. The little one's eyes were glued, as best she could focus, on her mother's face. She gurgled and smiled as her mother talked to her. The baby's face glowed with delight and love. No doubt, or let's hope so, she has that same glowing love in her little eyes when she sees her daddy. And all being well, as time goes on, the other thing in her eyes will be trust, complete trust, trust he will never misuse.

I was looking at some photos of myself as a 6-month old baby a week back. There I sit happily on daddy's knee. Mommy is by his side. He looks proud and protective as he holds me. Where did that daddy go? Now as I sift through photos taken during my adolescence and even into my 20's, I see a different man there, a man who was my father by birth only. Though I long ago came to grips with what happened in my life and have been happily blessed with a fine husband and 2 beautiful daughters since,  I still cannot understand how the person who gave you life can destroy his own child's trust for his own selfish needs. To me, this is beyond comprehension and always will be.



Why ever did you make me, your child, the object of your lust?
How could you take your own child's heart and fill it with mistrust?
With every thrust inside my body, you double thrust my soul
Stripping me of my self-esteem and leaving me less than whole

I was your own flesh and blood;  you were half my life
How is it that you blurred the lines and turned me into your wife?
Wasn't mother good enough? Couldn't you find another?
No, instead you had to choose your child and destroy both me and mother.

And when I finally got away like a lamb who had been slaughtered
You piled the guilt upon my shame and said I was no daughter 
Well what on earth did you expect when you stopped being dad?
When you died, my only tears were for the father I never had.

© Viga Boland 2012

14 comments:

  1. My heart still breaks for what the child in you went through.

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  2. Thanks so much Debra for following my blog, commenting, and supporting my efforts to help myself and others cope and come out from under. Yes, the child in me (actually the teen) went through something she didn't deserve but there are others who suffered far worse. The more I meet them through my Facebook page and my readings, the more my heart breaks for them. At least my story has a happy ending. So many of them haven't reached that end yet.

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  3. Viga, first let me say thank you for sharing a few of your thoughts on my own horror story in the novel "My Justice". Indeed a stepfather's rape and molestation, stalking, physical and emotional terrorism of the daughter he has taken on to be his own is a complete destruction of that child. Your own flesh and blood destroying and abusing you is a personal question of your identity and why was I created type of question. There is never a deeper wound than to have the person you trust, believe in as your protector to then use and treat you in such a criminal violation of personal safety. Your share is a knowledgable look into this crime for others and I am happy to be walking this path along with you. However, let me interject, when a stepfather is blended into the family as the sole source of a father indentity, you have that same hope and are taught the same belief of security. My real father was kept away from me, my blood family was no longer allowed contact with me; I was given to the monster as if on a silver platter for him to destroy. My mother did not accept then nor did she five years ago during our last conversation, that my father was ever worth the value of the name - however, she praised the monster and even stated that I owed him for what he provided all those years. Unbelievable how our mother's can allow and enable these crimes. I look forward to reading more of your posts and what you share. Cheers in your recover and all that you are doing for others in this mission of coming Out From Under the evil of sexual abuse!!!

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    1. Oh absolutely Trish. Your point is well taken. All up, there is no difference when it comes to incest ie. real father or stepfather. It's the ultimate violation of a child's trust in my opinion. As I read your book, I am utterly appalled not just by your step-father but by your mother. Dare I say it? She is as guilty as he is. My own mother was either dumb or blind or stupid, not sure which. However, even if she knew, I think she was so scared of my dad she wouldn't have done anything. However she would have been much more supportive of me and would have believed me eventually .. .and she did. But he was long gone (dead) by then. Thanks for commenting dear lady. I'm so happy to have found you. Just wish I had more time to get my book done. Never enough hours in my busy day.

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  4. Viga, I can relate to your story so much. I, too, was sexually abused by my dad. Mine lasted 6 years until I said no at the age and 17 and refused to be intimidated any more by his threats. At 17, I was more mature than he was emotionally and I knew it. I stayed until I was 19 because I was in school at a small junior college that was nearby. The day after I took my last final test there, I ran away from home with just what would go in a small bag. I told my mom and left a letter for her with my sister that morning. For 2 days she lied to my dad and told him I was at a friend's house. Only after he went to that friend's house, did my mom tell him the truth. He threatened death to the friend's who gave me a place to stay and even cried and threatened suicide if I didn't come back home to stay. I didn't. I knew that was my only chance to get away from him and his control. If I had stayed at home, I would have had a breakdown and would have totally lost my sanity and I knew it so I held strong and didn't go back home to live. Running away was one of the hardest things I have ever had the courage to do. If not for my friend who is 10 years older than both of my parents, I would have been out on the streets. I was that desperate to leave home. I thank God for that special lady who came into my life at the junior college we were both attending. She didn't know about the incest until about 10 years later when I told her but she knew something was wrong and she cared enough to offer me help and hope for a better life.

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    1. Thanks for commenting again Patricia. You and I have a history in common, don't we i.e. biological father is the abuser, not a stepfather. Both of us finally getting away and feeling if we didn't, we'd go insane. Our father's reactions the same. When my dad finally realized it was over, he threw me out and told me to get my things together in an hour and get out of his life. Then, on my wedding day (of course, he didn't attend) he apparently wept all day. He was devastated. Mom says the months that followed were horrendous for her as he alternated between rage and heartbreak. It was 3 years before I saw him again and it was never comfortable for either of us whenever we got together as a family after that. Think I might blog about this topic....

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  5. Viga, was he a narcissist? If so, you should read about narcissists, self love and sexual abuse. 1) The molestation of their own children can be their ultimate act in self love.
    2) Furthermore, they believe that they are superior people and thus entitled to other people and to take whatever they want.
    3) They are in love with an image of themselves in which they are the ultimate wonderful person so they cannot conceive of themselves or their actions from any other perspective but their own. They simply cannot see what they are doing to others cause they are so SELF-centred.

    Keep strong and keep going

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    1. Christine, thanks for commenting. Narcissist? Only to a degree. He wasn't in love with himself at all, at least not in my opinion. But he had a huge need for control of all others around him, especially mom and me. I believe this stemmed from his own loss of control over his own life at a young age (I have blogged about this elsewhere in this blog). He also felt deeply unloved, abandoned by the women in his life: his own mother dying when he was 10; my own mother cheating on him early in their marriage. I feel he was always looking for someone who would love him and never abandon him. He chose me, somehow, in all his wisdom, not realizing that I too was a bad choice if that's what he wanted from a woman. When I finally got away, he was a broken mess and cried all day during my wedding day, according to my mother. See more in my reply to Patricia

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  7. Christine and Viga, I have been questioning if my dad was a narcissist? Just not sure. I don't think my dad loved himself either, as Viga states about her dad. My dad was a terrified little boy inside who tried to control everyone that was in his life to the degree that with my family, he was a dictator. No one, including my mom, was allowed to make decisions. He wanted complete obedience from us or he went into a rage. He was worse when he was drinking which always lead to becoming drunk. I would always go to my mom first to ask for permission to do something and she almost always would say go ask your dad or wait until your dad gets home and ask him. She was afraid of him too. He probably would have beat her when he was displeased or angry but the first and only time he ever hit her before I was born, she got his rifle and tried to shot him. The rifle was not loaded when she pulled the trigger. He never hit her again. I grew up hearing that story my whole childhood. One of the reasons that I didn't tell my mom about the incest was that I was afraid she would kill him and she would go to jail. Then I would lose both of my parents.

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    1. Yes, your situation with your dad mirrors mine. My dad was the dictator too. Always the final word on everything. No decisions were ever made by mom. In fact, if she did say something, unless he agreed, it was usually shot down. That is why I wrote this in one of my other blog posts titled "home is where you are never yourself" ie. ""Home. Define home. Home is where your mother rarely smiles, your father rules, and both mother and child have no say about anything at all. Home is where both mother and child wait on father hand and foot, where each thinks carefully before saying something that might bring on father's rage."

      Glad to read your mom showed her metal grabbing that rifle. But I can just imagine what she might have done if you had told her about the abuse. This time she might not have missed! Brave woman.

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  8. Viga, My dad wasn't my real father, as I was adopted at 6months of age. He was not the controlling one in the family, my mother was, and she was physically and emotionally abusive, and in control of the household. My father was sexually abuse with me, but was the one who showed me love. My mother never showed me love or ever said I love you to me. I always felt that it was my fault because I wanted the love and needed to feel loved, and the only way to get that love was from my father. I know now that I was not at fault for any of this that happened. He was the abuser and it was his fault. My mother never knew because if always happened when she was out of the house, and if I had told her she would never have believed me. No one would have believed me, because he was so kind and gentle with everyone, and everyone loved him. But now everyone knows even though they are both passed away now. I am free of them both, and can look back and not be afraid anymore..Thank you for this post...

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    1. Thanks for commenting Mary. And you know, what you say really interests me on a personal level. Just this morning I finally added some more to my book and I stopped to think about my mom whom I never blamed for what happened to me, but as I analysed my situation, the same thing struck me: mom, though never abusive to me, could never show me love. I felt no warmth from her. Dad, on other hand, was "loving" when he wasn't being abusive or sexual toward me. Oh how tangled, convoluted and inexplicable human emotions are. Thanks for saying that. The more I write about my own story and read what others say, the more I learn about myself and my own situation.

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  9. I've just installed iStripper, so I can have the sexiest virtual strippers on my taskbar.

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