My dad, as most of you know, is an issue for me. He is my demon and the root of my problems.
He was sent to prison when I was very young for raping women. His parents and my mom kept me in his life. Some of my earliest memories are of seeing him in prison--a glass window between us and a phone to talk to him on. Later in his incarceration we were able to sit with him at a table, in a room full of other convicts and their visitors. Despite where he lived, I looked up to him and I loved him...he was my dad. I was much too young know who he really was.
I saw him every other weekend until my mom finally decided to divorce him, when I was almost nine years old. After that my contact with him was minimal (mostly via mail), but continued on until I was eighteen. I saw too many peeks inside his mind...
He is a master at manipulating, which is exactly what he did to my family, he made them believe that he wasn't what he is. I can't say I blame them or that I wouldn't have fallen for it myself had I been in their shoes (who wants to believe such horrible things about someone they love?). I think they were so caught up in their own problems that they were unable to see how such choices would effect me. I know they were only doing what they thought was best.
My dad's "problem" developed, as do many with the same dysfunction, and he touched me in places he shouldn't have on multiple occasions, which my family knows nothing about (though my mom has a good idea that he did something to me). He has been released and incarcerated less than five times, however, not one of those releases lasted very long. He is in prison today and will be for over a decade, if they don't let him out early for good behavior. (Can I take a moment to express my utter disappointment in the fact that, after all this time, after all he has done, he can still be released early?)
Over the years my family as a whole has become much more aware of who he is. They no longer try to keep me in contact with him (they rarely even tell me how is doing) and they don't question why I cut him out of my life. He is told how I am doing and given updates on us, which I won't prevent for my own reasons, nevertheless he doesn't deserve this kindness.
I have not seen nor spoken to him in over thirteen years, yet he is always there. I cannot escape him--I am made from him. Living across the country doesn't make it easier. His death will be my only release, and not even a full one at that.
I want no part of him. It sickens me that I came from him, and it worries me. I have absolutely no desire to do what he does, but...I'm different, and I worry that a twisted part of him got passed down to me. I have spent a great deal of time trying to push the dark side of myself off to deepest corner I could find because of him--because I fear being anything like him. Religion helped to keep it buried.
In a way, finding the power exchange made me feel better about who I am because I've found me and others like me, which is so wonderful. However, in a different way, it has made the struggle worse. It has made me hate him and myself a little more because...he turned me into something I didn't start out as (there's no way anyone could come out of what I did and be the same, you know?). Maybe I would have still ended up in this type of relationship had I been given a different life, but I find it hard not to blame him, even though this isn't a bad thing. I think I'm just tired of finding ways he has effected my life.
Not to mention how much it pisses me off that my husband is left to deal with the residual of his mess.
I know I'm not him. I know it is okay to want and need the things I do. I know what my husband and I do within our relationship is not what he does, the two are not even comparable, however that voice is still there, telling me that he fucked me up beyond repair--there is proof of that now, I can no longer ignore it.
I've taken this leap to share my story because I know I'm not alone. It's not that I think many have been through the same situations as I, but I know there are many others who fight the same fight--the fighting of monsters that will never leave.
A death of another that makes you whole, tragedies of the unspeakable, pure cruelties to the undeserving...suffering is individual, each different than the next, yet all painful and all create irrevocable change within us that we must learn to live with.
I've made a choice to be thankful that I am who I am. I might hate who made me this way, but I'm no longer going to hate that he changed me. I like the colors and textures that have been woven into my life because, as a whole, they make me a better person, a better wife, and a better parent. I would do it all again, exactly as I did before, to end up where I am now.
There is great reward for having experienced such things, it's just not always easy to see through the clouds of agony.