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Fathers Day-What My Father Failed To Take From Me

© Susan Maree Jeavons

This article tells the story of how an incest survivor deals with Father's day, and it may be triggering.

Father's Day, a day when most children celebrate and honor their fathers, for many incest survivors, is a day they dread. For me, it is a day I still have trouble with. That's why I waited until after Father's Day, to publish this article.

When other adult children are having barbecues or family dinners to honor their fathers, I am still trying to forget.

Being an incest survivor, I have struggled to arrive at a comfortable place in my life, where I am not ashamed or feeling guilty anymore. It took me nearly thirty years to get here, and the journey was one with many obstacles to surmount, but I can finally walk with my head held high, knowing that I was in no way responsible for what my father did.

Maybe you find it hard to understand what incest does to its victims. I'll try to explain.

Imagine you are a -six-year-old child who adores her father. Imagine how that child would feel if one of the people she trusts the most sexually molests her. Imagine her fear, her confusion, her anger, her disgust, and her shame. Imagine going to bed every night, hyper-vigilant, listening for footsteps, watching for shadows beneath the door, waiting for the terror to start. Imagine lying there, trying to escape, trying to breathe, trying to make him stop. Imagine never knowing when the terror would end, or if you would die. Imagine hoping you would. Imagine how she would feel when her father tells her that she can not tell their secret to anyone, especially her mother.

I don't remember how many nights my father molested me. I know that it went on for almost 10 years. I have specific memories of being molested and others that remain fuzzy, but I remember clearly, how it changed who I was.

I became hyper-alert, always looking and listening for danger.

Refugee

A cardboard box
decorated
with crayon
and lace
becomes a womb
where she crawls
to make-believe
safety,
to escape
her father's rage...

I began dreaming of ways to murder my father.

Extreme Justice

Purge this poison
from my soul
    still my body
    calm my cries

Psychopath
in control
    cleanse toxins
    of father's lies

Scalpel cuts
venom streams
    no excuse
    no alibis

Close my eyes
hear his screams

Oh sweet justice
satisfies!

I lost that childish innocence, that excitement and wonder about life.

In its place were fear, anger, resentment, and hate. I hated my father for what he took from me. I hated my mother for working nights and for not knowing what was going on. I trusted no one, and I lost the expectation of being rescued. There was no where to run or hide. I was too ashamed to tell anyone what my father was doing. As a teenager, I feared that others would know my dirty secret, just by looking at me, so I walked with my head down.