I separate my home life growing up into two sections. The first section I refer to as my childhood. Anytime I say childhood that is from the time I can remember until almost 14 years of age. My childhood was what I consider normal and I have very good memories from that time. I guard those memories because I need them.
The second section I refer to as my teenage years, nothing more. This is where my story begins. At that time my family consisted of my father, mother, 1 sister, and 1 brother. I am the youngest. In the month of June of the year I was almost 14 years old my mother and brother left one weekend to move my sister and her husband back home as they were living in another state. That is when my father stopped being my dad.
***I have never told my story before and I will try to be as proper about it as I can be and moderators if I went too far or said something too inappropriate I apologize in advance and please edit it***
That weekend my father started what he called his duty to show me what boys would try to do to me and that I needed to continue to be a good girl and not let that happen. That is when the groping, pinching, rubbing himself against me, asking if I am being a good girl, asking if I am letting the boys do this, started. Every chance he got this is what he did and I learned that if I said Yes daddy I am being good. No daddy I am not letting the boys do anything the quicker his sessions would be over.
Within 9 months of this starting I did become the bad girl. I started drinking, doing drugs, and had sex with a boy. I also got the nerve to tell someone. I told my sister and her response was No wonder you dont like dad. That was it.
When I was 15, during one of his sessions I was honest with him and told him yes I have had sex with a boy thinking maybe it would stop or something. Yeah, that did not work that was the first time he raped me. In his words this is what bad girls, harlots deserve.
This is when I finally told my mother. There was a lot of hugging, crying, and vocal anger toward my father and I really thought yes it is over. I remember feeling such a sense of relief. She said when she was done with college, got a job, we would leave. Sad to say, that was it. Never happened, she did nothing to help me. My mother and I have talked about this in total 3 times. The first time The second time was years later and she told me that I needed to accept my fault in it. The third time was to tell me that he only did that to hurt her.
Over the next two years, pretty much the same.. The groping, pinching, rubbing only with words of this is what bad girls, harlots deserve. I became worse with the drinking, drugs, became promiscuous. I became exactly what my father said I was. I tried not to be home as much as possible. When I was home I tried to be as invisible as I could be.
When I was 17, I got caught making out with a boy and that is when my father raped me the second time as a reminder that this is how bad girls get treated.
I had one more person I could tell, my brother, so I did. Yeah that ended with him literally beating me because how could I say something like that about dad.
My father did give me a present on my 18th birthday. He told me I was an adult now and he left me alone from than on.
Fast forward 20 some years. Married, two kids . And I finally hit a wall, a huge wall. It was go crazy or go to the doctors. I went to the doctors. I have been diagnosed with PTSD and I am now in therapy.
This is the first time I have shared any of this I am learning that opening up and sharing helps a bit with the healing.
The second section I refer to as my teenage years, nothing more. This is where my story begins. At that time my family consisted of my father, mother, 1 sister, and 1 brother. I am the youngest. In the month of June of the year I was almost 14 years old my mother and brother left one weekend to move my sister and her husband back home as they were living in another state. That is when my father stopped being my dad.
***I have never told my story before and I will try to be as proper about it as I can be and moderators if I went too far or said something too inappropriate I apologize in advance and please edit it***
That weekend my father started what he called his duty to show me what boys would try to do to me and that I needed to continue to be a good girl and not let that happen. That is when the groping, pinching, rubbing himself against me, asking if I am being a good girl, asking if I am letting the boys do this, started. Every chance he got this is what he did and I learned that if I said Yes daddy I am being good. No daddy I am not letting the boys do anything the quicker his sessions would be over.
Within 9 months of this starting I did become the bad girl. I started drinking, doing drugs, and had sex with a boy. I also got the nerve to tell someone. I told my sister and her response was No wonder you dont like dad. That was it.
When I was 15, during one of his sessions I was honest with him and told him yes I have had sex with a boy thinking maybe it would stop or something. Yeah, that did not work that was the first time he raped me. In his words this is what bad girls, harlots deserve.
This is when I finally told my mother. There was a lot of hugging, crying, and vocal anger toward my father and I really thought yes it is over. I remember feeling such a sense of relief. She said when she was done with college, got a job, we would leave. Sad to say, that was it. Never happened, she did nothing to help me. My mother and I have talked about this in total 3 times. The first time The second time was years later and she told me that I needed to accept my fault in it. The third time was to tell me that he only did that to hurt her.
Over the next two years, pretty much the same.. The groping, pinching, rubbing only with words of this is what bad girls, harlots deserve. I became worse with the drinking, drugs, became promiscuous. I became exactly what my father said I was. I tried not to be home as much as possible. When I was home I tried to be as invisible as I could be.
When I was 17, I got caught making out with a boy and that is when my father raped me the second time as a reminder that this is how bad girls get treated.
I had one more person I could tell, my brother, so I did. Yeah that ended with him literally beating me because how could I say something like that about dad.
My father did give me a present on my 18th birthday. He told me I was an adult now and he left me alone from than on.
Fast forward 20 some years. Married, two kids . And I finally hit a wall, a huge wall. It was go crazy or go to the doctors. I went to the doctors. I have been diagnosed with PTSD and I am now in therapy.
This is the first time I have shared any of this I am learning that opening up and sharing helps a bit with the healing.
sis. My PM box is always open if you need an ear/shoulder. 
