by Band Back Together | Feb 10, 2015 | Abuse, Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Loss, Love, Lung Cancer, Parent Loss, Therapy |
This is a letter I wrote to my deceased abusive father. My father died in 2000 of lung cancer. I am now, 46, but as you will see, I always called him “Daddy.” I never matured to the name of “dad” or “father”. My therapist told me to write him a letter and it did help. I just thought I might share it.
Dear Daddy,
You shocked me, Daddy. You had me confused. Since I only visited you once a year, during the summer, and you were my real one and only daddy I would ever have; and boy did I love you, why did you do this?
That first night it happened, I was asleep and the pain awakened me. I’m guessing you felt my body tense up, so you quit and got off my bed. Then, two nights later, you started again. Once again I awoke with a start. This time I faked sleep and rolled over away from you on the bed. This is when the confusion really set in. Because I didn’t know the rules of a father, I wasn’t sure if you weren’t doing a duty all fathers perform. I knew about child molestation already, but I was not sure that applied to fathers, I was so young.
After you left my bed, and you went to bed that night, I woke up one of my step-sisters; whom you raised full-time. I pulled her into the bathroom with me and told her what happened. She just looked at me and shook her head knowingly. You had apparently been doing this to both of my step-sisters for a long time.
That is when it hit me! Daddy, you molested me! There was no so called “duty.” I may only have been a young girl, but I knew right then and there that what you did was wrong; and it would never never ever happen again.
I quit going to sleep before you did. Then, the situation changed to different offenses. I remember walking by the kitchen table where you were sitting, and I was wearing a tube top. You told me to lift it up so that you could see how my breasts were maturing. I adamantly and strongly denied your request. You just seemed to laugh like it was a joke. I was wary of you every day, for the rest of your life. However, amazingly even at that young age, I felt empowered that I did not take the abuse any more. But I still loved you, you were my Daddy.
During the next 20 years I had set my boundaries and kept them. For those 20 years, I waited for an apology. Over the years, I only told a few very, very close, trusting friends.
Then you got sick, Daddy. I couldn’t leave your side and stayed 24/7 at the ICU. My friends, who knew the secret, questioned my loyalty. They kept telling me that I owed you nothing. But you see, Daddy, I still loved you, all along. During those last few days, I thought just maybe the apology would come. It never did, even when you knew you were going to die.
I’ll never forget when the day came that you asked me to unplug the machines and let you go. We both expressed our love for one another. I did as you asked, and then crawled up in bed with you and held you until you died.
I know you did wrong, and I know you knew it too. But I always did and will love you. And I know you loved me.
If I hadn’t empowered myself so soon after the incident, I don’t believe we would have had the life-long love for each other. I believe the fact that you did not say you were sorry upset me more than the abuse. I didn’t realize your death would affect me so much, since you were mean and abusive.
But I love you and miss you Daddy.
by Band Back Together | Nov 19, 2014 | Cancer and Neoplasia, Child Sexual Abuse, Childhood Bullying, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Fear, Pet Loss, Suicide, Teen Suicide, Violence |
I am a seventeen year old girl. For quite some time, I had been experiencing strange feelings. Around ten months ago, I had an illness that lasted for three months. No doctor could tell the exact reason. Some of them said it was related to some kind of mental disturbance. I thought about my life at that moment. Everything was fine, so I ignored it.
Six months later, I found myself having trouble sleeping, isolating myself from people, and having suicidal thoughts. Everything in my life was amazing then. I couldn’t figure out what was causing this, and because I failed to understand myself, everyone else did too. Three months later, during a chemistry test, I went blank and felt like a corpse.
I had figured it out, I had been raped.
It had started when I was nine years old. My mother had been transferred to a different state than where my father lived. We were living with my uncle and his family. I was very innocent, and was irritated and let down by my cousins who constantly mocked at me for everything I did.
One day, while my mom was at work, one of my male cousins came into my room and locked the door. He asked me to play with him. I was glad someone wanted to play with me. He wanted to play house, so he played the role of my husband. As the time to sleep came, he lay next to me and felt me all over, making me uncomfortable. He groped my tiny breasts and kissed me repeatedly. I felt so bad, I asked him to leave. I didn’t really know what all was happening, but I knew it wasn’t right. From then on, I avoided being with him alone. Time passed, we moved back in with my dad, and the incident was soon forgotten.
When I was twelve, I was at another uncle’s house. My mom went out for sometime, and I was alone with my uncle. He sat beside me and hugged me. Then, he started touching me everywhere, and slid his hands inside my shirt. I ran away and stayed in the bathroom until my mom returned. I thought about telling her, but I was worried she wouldn’t believe me, so I didn’t say anything.
The next year, we stayed at my grandfather’s house, without our parents. One night, my aunt’s husband woke me up in the middle of the night by running his fingers up and down my legs. I was horrified and ran to the bathroom. My younger sister was sleeping in the same room, so I went back to the room, praying he wouldn’t still be there. I didn’t want to shout because my sister would wake up, and she was too young to witness this. He kept trying to feel my body under my clothes, so I kicked him very hard. I warned him to back off or else I would shout.
The next day, when I was combing my hair, he grabbed my breasts from behind and kissed my neck and back. I was bewildered. I stayed quiet because I was afraid my mom would not believe me and our family would fall apart. I was relieved when my parents came back.
Two months later, my aunt invited us to her place. My mother went out with my aunt to shop, and my father was busy with some work. I was on the computer with my back to the door, my aunt’s husbad came in and locked the door. Before I could think of an escape, he made me lie on the couch and kissed my lips. He French kissed me and touched every part of my body. I shouted, but nobody seemed to hear. I was saved when the doorbell suddenly rang. I felt like telling my mom about it, but just couldn’t. I told a trusted cousin about it, and the problem stopped.
When I was 15, I had a boyfriend. I was falling for him and thought I could trust him. One day, we had gone on a drive when he turned into a deserted street and stopped the car. I asked him what was wrong, and he started to kiss me. I kissed him back. He went further and took off my shirt. I was shocked and asked him to stop, but he got on top of me, unbuttoned both of our pants, and stuck out his penis. I told him I was on my period, and I begged him not to do it. He got off me.
I punched him and shouted for help, but no one listened. He asked me to blow him. I didn’t know what that meant. He grabbed me by the throat, and pushed his penis inside my mouth. I understood then and punched his chest. He became violent, and he started to choke me. I knew I had to cooperate to stay safe. I begged him to stop. When I didn’t give in, he made me rub and stroke his penis. Finally he ejaculated, then he drove me home, without saying a word.
I came back home only to discover my mom had read my diary and knew I was with my boyfriend instead of at my friend’s house. I was shattered. My parents are completely against teenagers dating, so my mom acted like I had betrayed her. I didn’t have the courage then to tell her what had happened.
I opened my phone to call up my best friend, but discovered I had a text from her that said she was diagnosed with blood cancer. I was breaking down.
After ignoring his calls, I finally decided I needed to meet with my boyfriend to tell him I was done. But when we met, he took me to a corner, and without wasting any time, he shoved his finger up my vagina. I was shocked, and I ran back home.
The next day, my dog died.
I was falling into a pit, and it seemed impossible to come out. With no one to talk to about this, I decided to just shove it in some corner of my heart. That resulted in bad health and emotional problems.
This September, I finally contacted a helpline and went to a counselor who changed my life. I told my parents about everything. They listened and stood by me, without blaming me. I am making a new start with the help of my loved ones.
by Band Back Together | Sep 5, 2014 | Abuse, Anger, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Forgiveness, Happiness, Help With Relationships, Marriage Problems, Murder, Psychological Manipulation, Uncategorized |
All the shattered hearts and broken promises that I thought I was angry about all seem so irrelevant now. I know that separating is probably the best thing for both of us, but it’s killing me. I no longer care about whether I pass or fail in school. I no longer care about graphic design. None of that matters without him.
How could I have been so blind? So stupid? I got so lost in the things that he had done to me that I forgot about the girl he brought to life. I may not be able to prevent the pain he causes me now and again, but I am in control of MY actions, and my actions have been deplorable.
This isn’t me. I don’t retaliate. I forgive, and I move on. When did I lose sight of that girl? His mistakes should have never been repeated no matter how much I wanted him to understand. He’s a man. He will never understand the emotions of a woman. I sure don’t understand the emotions of a man.
It’s probably too late for us. I simply hope someone else can learn from our mistakes. Forgiveness is a wonderful thing, and by forgiving your spouse you can make a stand. You can say that you will not allow the darkness to destroy what you both have built, even if you have to build the walls on your own.
The happiness in our eyes has been gone for quite a while. Once they told the world a story of a love that few would ever experience. Somewhere along the way, we forgot how lucky we were to have found each other. I wish I had been better at showing him how truly grateful I was to have him here. And while many might say that I should use these lessons for the next guy, I know, without a single doubt, that there will be no other for me. The attention that I was seeking from others never managed to replace what I was desperately in need of from him. And because of my foolishness, there will always be a break in his heart that won’t heal, and that I am responsible for. No matter how many times I assure him that I never followed through, he will always believe I did. Maybe that’s even worse. He will spend the rest of his life hoping that my words are true but never truly believing.
Dear God, what have I done? I ruined the only thing that was truly pure and beautiful in my life out of pure spite. My life has never had any light in it until he came along. The day I met him, everything sprang to life. The grass was greener; the sky was bluer. Exactly when did I lose sight of that? Was it the first time he slapped me? Was it the day he broke my tailbone? I seem to recall a spark up until the moment that I felt that a single promise from him had become necessary – that no matter how our fights ended, if something ever happened to me that he would not panic and kill our children as well. Anything that was left after that died the moment I pleaded for my own life.
I know this relationship isn’t healthy. I’m fully capable of taking a step back and screaming to the girl before me, “For God’s sake, run!” But I stand by a decision I made one night in our Blessing home: if I intended to love him, then I was going to love him to the end, whether it be tragic or happily ever after. It looks like tragedy is the theme of this play, but at least the heroes in question have lost only their souls and not their lives.
by Band Back Together | Aug 12, 2014 | Abuse, Adult Children of Narcissistic Parents, Depression, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Boundaries, Guilt, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Panic Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder |
Thanks to Band Back Together posts, I’ve found many links about other adult children of narcissistic parents (ACONs). I’m learning a lot about who I am and what I need to do heal from the emotional abuse I lived through.
I now understand that through emotional abuse as a child, a person develops many challenges in his or her adult relationships. ACONs are unable to judge people (especially when it comes to protecting oneself), lack understanding what is bad and wrong, instead believing everyone is good. This is what emotional abuse does – it makes us magnets for abusers in our adult relationships.
Lacking the ability to act assertively and set healthy emotional boundaries is big deal of for ACONs. Since I’ve been to the clinic, I read about narcissistic personality disorder. I now understand that I need to put myself first, to respect myself, and set emotional boundaries. This is new for me: I couldn’t tell when it was too much until was too late. I still struggle but I believe that a part of me is learning to respect myself.
I made a huge step: a friend of mine was celebrating her birthday and was pushing me to go to a disco to party with her. It was far too much for me. I have panic disorder,depression, and struggle interacting in social situations.
I explained to her how I felt, but she continued insisting – she told me she wouldn’t come to my birthday party if I didn’t go to hers. I was about to go. I’d picked out an outfit when it hit me: I knew I’d feel distressed and exhausted. I decided to call her and tell her I wasn’t coming. This was incredibly difficult for me but I did it.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel guilty or fear punishment – I felt I needed to respect myself. If she is my friend, she needs to respect my feelings. She doesn’t need to understand them, but she needs to respect them. I’m so proud of myself.
I’m starting to understand what being emotionally abused by a very manipulative malignant narcissistic mother has done to me. I’ve had to learn that it’s okay to say no when one feels like it. I can do that without feeling guilty. This is self-respect, not failing with someone else’s expectations. I’m not hurting anyone by saying I’m sorry, I can’t – I don’t want to do that.
I know it’s a long road I’m facing to learn to say, “No! Don’t touch me!” To put a really angry face when I feel disrespected, and to develop positive aggression to protect myself from abuse. For that, I need to be able to understand my emotional boundaries.
Still can’t. But I’m learning every day.
I now feel comfortable about cutting ties with my ex-boyfriend. I can see that he’s a crazy narcissistic abuser and that the best thing to do was to cut him off. I’d been feeling very insecure about dealing with him as he keeps sending me kind messages. I ignored them, but I was very insecure that cutting him off. Now I know that’s the right thing to do.
I’m loving this new found freedom. I can easily cut out all the abusers in my life. It’s been tough, though. I now see how many narcissistic people I’ve had around me my whole life. How I’ve been abused by friends and that all my ex-boyfriends – without exception – are narcissists. How I let them abuse me without realizing it. I’d get hurt and try to tell them, but they would never hear, I couldn’t see why they’d hurt me. I’d used to think it was because they didn’t realize it. I struggled, trying to make sense of their abuse. So naïve.
Of course they knew it! They just didn’t care.
I’ve got to protect myself.
by Band Back Together | Jul 20, 2013 | Abuse, Anger, Emotional Abuse, Estrangement, Loneliness, Love, Psychological Manipulation |
Emotional abuse is not limited to romantic relationships. The scars of emotional abuse last long after the hateful words are spewed.
This is her story:
Every couple months, she contacts me again.
My best friend, the closest person in my life for over a decade the hardest breakup I’ve ever been through.
I’m writing this because I can see those attempts for what they are, and I want to solidify it so I don’t forget. Perhaps my words may even help someone else who’s suffering from a verbally abusive relationship.
My best friend and I split up – rather, I cut her off – almost three years ago now. For a solid year before that, we couldn’t interact without her verbally abusing me.
I’m so very grateful to have friends who understand what verbal abuse is and why it’s so damaging, because I didn’t. Without their help, encouragement, and constant resources and strength, I might not have left. Or, I may not have stayed away, which would have been equally difficult – abusers don’t tend to give up easily, as many of you (unfortunately) may know.
There are many wonderful resources about emotional abuse, but what’s helped me most is this statement: A verbal abuser is someone who claims to love you, but who uses their love to consistently make you feel awful. The love of an abuser revolves around what you owe them, how you’re letting them down, and what you need to change in order to be worthy of that love.
Guess what?
Love shouldn’t feel like that.
The first time I realized that something was seriously wrong with our friendship was the day I caught myself thinking, “How is it okay to deliberately, consciously, repeatedly, hurt someone as badly as you can? How is okay for friends to do that to each other?”
Because no matter how much we disagreed, how angry we got, I never, not once, pulled out my worst words and aimed them to hurt her as badly as I could…yet I could clearly see that she did this to me.
That behavior got me looking more closely, and I realized (I believe “dawning horror” is a good phrase for how it felt) that almost every single thing she said to me was manipulative…every word chosen to get me to do what she wanted. And like some sick psy-ops torturer, every time I wasn’t going in the “right” direction, she pulled out the ones that hurt and started swinging.
Having not heard from her in months makes it obvious that’s what’s going on. It doesn’t make it hurt less – someone who knows you well, who you loved a long time can master causing emotional pain.
Seeing it clearly makes it easier to do what I know has to be done – it isn’t easy, even though it’s been so long and so bad. Once you love somebody deeply, it’s hard to choose to not have a relationship with them, but I recognize that to do otherwise would be stupid, self-destructive and gain me nothing. So I’m working on learning my lessons and moving on.
Yesterday we “talked” via text-message – all told, the conversation wouldn’t be half as long as this story. During the conversation, she informed me that I’d betrayed everything about myself, thrown away my ethics; and she’d have a happy future without me.. but I’d get what I deserved” for “abandoning everyone who’d ever voluntarily loved” me (she and my also verbally-abusive ex. They now live together).
She said that the words she’d said hurt me was proof she was right and I felt guilty; she’d be willing to give me a second chance, but only if I would do the work to stop “disappointing her with all my actions and decisions.”
When I stopped replying, she pulled out the really big guns; she’d love my daughter forever, she’d always be her family. She threatened that she’d see my daughter eventually whether I liked it or not; my daughter would rather be with her anyway. She told me that I wasn’t acting in my girl’s best interests – “look at everything you’ve cost her already with your bad decisions” – and that I only cared about myself.
All told, this tiny conversation probably contained twenty hidden knives, and as many less-deadly clever little needles, designed to prod me in the “right” direction. Hints that her life is so awesome now that it’s a “shame we can’t share it,” using her father’s cancer to lay guilt that I’m not being supportive.
Participating in that short conversation brought me to my knees, quite literally at times.
But fortunately, no one I love (or even mildly care about) has made me feel so awful in many months, and the contrast really helped me see this for what it was: ABUSE.
Say it with me now, The Band: People who love you do not deliberately hurt you.
We all hurt each other sometimes, but there’s a difference between “my actions hurt you” or “I was angry and said something awful and I apologize,” and “I will systematically make you feel as awful as I possibly can in order to control you.”
The latter verbal interaction is abuse, it’s a method of control; it beats at you, bends your spine and, over time, it wears away your resolve. Eventually no matter what you’d decided or how good an idea you have, you desperately want to change your mind and do what your abuser wants, just to make the pain stop.
It’s not okay to control people like that – we must have free will, and respect the right to make our own decisions – but it’s especially not okay to exert that kind of forcible control over those you love.
Verbal abuse is an emotional cattle prod. It’s bad enough to use pain-motivation and torture on strangers, but using them on your beloveds is just vile. And I don’t care how much abusers like to throw around the word “love” – that’s not love.
Love is what I have for my daughter.
Love makes me say things like, “Sweetie, I may not always agree with your decisions, I may get angry at you sometimes, but I will always love you.”
Never, EVER would I say to her, overtly or as an insinuation, that my love obligates her to do what I want; never would I make her feel like a terrible person who betrayed me by making a choice I didn’t agree with.
I know what that feels like – it’s torture. Even if it caused her to do what I wanted, it would never be worth it.
Love is something you give. It is not a transaction that leaves the loved person in perpetual debt to you. And it sure as hell doesn’t give you the right to hurt them.
Deliberately hurting someone is betraying them and their love, and I have sworn to never allow myself to stay in a relationship with someone who hurts me deliberately again.
I don’t have friends as close as we were now – I’m working back up to that – but as I said to her before blocking her number, the best part about my life now is that I know that if anyone else I love ever deliberately tortures me the way she does, I have the strength to end that relationship.
For awhile, it was terrifying and terribly lonely. But I wanted to write this so I could say that ending my abusive relationship was the best thing I ever did, and it’s a decision I’m standing by no matter how hard it is.
The less I let her in, the less control she can exert, and the less she can hurt me. I’ve resolved to keep abusive people far away from me and surround myself with people whose love is supportive and strengthening. I’m be better off, happier and healthier, than I would eating the poisoned apples of verbal abusers.
Thanks, The Band.
Glitter for everyone!!
——
What have YOU, The Band, learned from an abusive relationship?
