I Am a Child Abuse Survivor
My Tale... When I was 7, my father became enraged with me for not cleaning my room and decided to abuse me. I don't remember where everyone else was at the time; my Mom was probably at work and my brother and sisters probably were just doing stuff. It is my sense that he and I were home alone. I was about 7 or so.
My father beat me on the buttocks until I cried uncontrollably. As I lay on my bed crying, my face buried in pillow and towards the wall, I felt the most terrible sensation imaginable; someone on top of me, pushing me down to the mattress. I heard my father yelling and swearing. He said "you're a f----ing baby!" and "you're probably a faggot!" Eventually he raped my in my anus. When he was done, he got up and told me he had to do it because I was not like my brother and that my brother was the son he wanted. He told me to stop crying, or my Mom would come and find me and then leave the home forever.
This happened several more times over a space of a couple of years before my parents separated around 1973 or so.
That's it; that's my story.
***UPDATE***
My father had his stepdaughter contact me on 13 August to ask me to call him to "square away" our differences and issues. For whatever reason, I agreed. I called my father at 4 pm that day, and talked to him for about 20 minutes. He said he was sorry, but never acknowledged anything specific that he did for me. He told me he loved me and wanted to see me; I agreed. He told me he loved me again and ( to my great shame) I told him I loved him out of obligation, I guess. Two hours later, I tried calling back and my calls went unanswered. At 10 pm that night I received a facebook alert that his stepdaughter had sent a post to my wall. She said my father died (yes, on facebook, even though they had my phone #). This has ridiculously f*cked me up mentally and somewhat spiritually. His widow told me I allowed him to die in peace (she doesn't know of the abuse, she just knows we were estranged). I was and still am so myself for how I handled his call and for nor expressing any outrage at his family for telling me on facebook. I wonder what I have done or am doing to warrant this stuff happening. The ongoing drama and passive-aggressiveness of his family has been completely draining physically and to my psyche. I went to Vegas for a week to forget it all, but am I back to where I started when he died now that my vacation is over. I could not have sc<x>ripted this for a tv movie any better. My father died peacefully, I lost any shot at closure with him and when given the opportunity to talk to him after almost 20 years estranged, I cowed to him and told him "I love you."
As they say, "F*ck My Life!" It is way too complicated....
My father beat me on the buttocks until I cried uncontrollably. As I lay on my bed crying, my face buried in pillow and towards the wall, I felt the most terrible sensation imaginable; someone on top of me, pushing me down to the mattress. I heard my father yelling and swearing. He said "you're a f----ing baby!" and "you're probably a faggot!" Eventually he raped my in my anus. When he was done, he got up and told me he had to do it because I was not like my brother and that my brother was the son he wanted. He told me to stop crying, or my Mom would come and find me and then leave the home forever.
This happened several more times over a space of a couple of years before my parents separated around 1973 or so.
That's it; that's my story.
***UPDATE***
My father had his stepdaughter contact me on 13 August to ask me to call him to "square away" our differences and issues. For whatever reason, I agreed. I called my father at 4 pm that day, and talked to him for about 20 minutes. He said he was sorry, but never acknowledged anything specific that he did for me. He told me he loved me and wanted to see me; I agreed. He told me he loved me again and ( to my great shame) I told him I loved him out of obligation, I guess. Two hours later, I tried calling back and my calls went unanswered. At 10 pm that night I received a facebook alert that his stepdaughter had sent a post to my wall. She said my father died (yes, on facebook, even though they had my phone #). This has ridiculously f*cked me up mentally and somewhat spiritually. His widow told me I allowed him to die in peace (she doesn't know of the abuse, she just knows we were estranged). I was and still am so myself for how I handled his call and for nor expressing any outrage at his family for telling me on facebook. I wonder what I have done or am doing to warrant this stuff happening. The ongoing drama and passive-aggressiveness of his family has been completely draining physically and to my psyche. I went to Vegas for a week to forget it all, but am I back to where I started when he died now that my vacation is over. I could not have sc<x>ripted this for a tv movie any better. My father died peacefully, I lost any shot at closure with him and when given the opportunity to talk to him after almost 20 years estranged, I cowed to him and told him "I love you."
As they say, "F*ck My Life!" It is way too complicated....
56-60, M