May 2013
The battle in my head
It goes like this…
You know you wanted it.
I was not old enough to know what it was. When I was, I said no. He never listened…
I went to him even when he did not ask. I am at fault.
I loved him. I believed his lies. I trusted him. I did not know it was abuse.
I am dramatic. I am emotional. I am over-reacting.
He stole my innocence. He stole my childhood. I have every right to be this way.
He did not mean to hurt me. He loves me, maybe he just did not know how to show it.
That is not love. That is abuse. I was a child. I was not responsible.
Stop whining. Stop complaining. There are others out there who have it worse then you.
He bruised my faith. He destroyed my feelings of worth.
He loved me. He did not mean to hurt me.
It does not matter if he meant to or not…the truth is he did.
How sick and mess up must I be? I still care about him.
It is natural to be confused and conflicted. He is family.
Most of the time I did not say no or fight him. So I was telling him it was okay.
He was manipulating a child. I was confused. I did not know how to say no.
I must have wanted it. I must have led him on.
No matter what I did, he was the adult. He was not supposed to do those things. He was wrong. I was the child.
It was so long ago. How can I still be mad at him?
He manipulated my emotions. He was my daddy. You are supposed to obey and trust your father. He is not supposed to lie to you or do bad things.
Other people have been through worse. It could have been worse. So it's not really a big deal.
It was bad enough. I am entitled to feel violated. Trauma is trauma - pain is not a competition.
I should be over this by now.
There is no time limit on healing.
I must just be doing this for the attention.
If I wanted attention I would be telling everyone. I can barely talk about this.
I made him angry
So what? It doesn't make what he did okay
I am just imagining it.
I remember what he felt like when he touched me or made me touch him. I can still feel the weight of his heavy body on my child sized one. I can still smell his breath. I cannot be making these feelings up.
It goes like this…
You know you wanted it.
I was not old enough to know what it was. When I was, I said no. He never listened…
I went to him even when he did not ask. I am at fault.
I loved him. I believed his lies. I trusted him. I did not know it was abuse.
I am dramatic. I am emotional. I am over-reacting.
He stole my innocence. He stole my childhood. I have every right to be this way.
He did not mean to hurt me. He loves me, maybe he just did not know how to show it.
That is not love. That is abuse. I was a child. I was not responsible.
Stop whining. Stop complaining. There are others out there who have it worse then you.
He bruised my faith. He destroyed my feelings of worth.
He loved me. He did not mean to hurt me.
It does not matter if he meant to or not…the truth is he did.
How sick and mess up must I be? I still care about him.
It is natural to be confused and conflicted. He is family.
Most of the time I did not say no or fight him. So I was telling him it was okay.
He was manipulating a child. I was confused. I did not know how to say no.
I must have wanted it. I must have led him on.
No matter what I did, he was the adult. He was not supposed to do those things. He was wrong. I was the child.
It was so long ago. How can I still be mad at him?
He manipulated my emotions. He was my daddy. You are supposed to obey and trust your father. He is not supposed to lie to you or do bad things.
Other people have been through worse. It could have been worse. So it's not really a big deal.
It was bad enough. I am entitled to feel violated. Trauma is trauma - pain is not a competition.
I should be over this by now.
There is no time limit on healing.
I must just be doing this for the attention.
If I wanted attention I would be telling everyone. I can barely talk about this.
I made him angry
So what? It doesn't make what he did okay
I am just imagining it.
I remember what he felt like when he touched me or made me touch him. I can still feel the weight of his heavy body on my child sized one. I can still smell his breath. I cannot be making these feelings up.
