The Blog Farm

The Blog Farm

Saturday, April 20, 2013


As a child I suffered in silence, drawn into a web that held me so tight, there was no escaping the clutches of my abusers.  Thinking back, I can now see that he controlled me by being the "good guy" while my mother was the disciplinarian.  He would be there for me, giving me the hugs which I never ever remember getting from my mother.  But his love wasn't the right kind of love.  Now as the adult I know that, but as a child I didn't.  It felt good to be loved, even though it led to abuse.  I for so long blamed myself for letting this happen.

As children, we are forced into silence, forced to be quiet because if we told, and I thought this as a child that I would be sent back to the orphanage, and I didn't want to go back.  I also didn't want to break up the family unit.  I would be blamed for all of this.

I lived my whole life pretending that we had a wonderful family life, that

nothing ever went wrong.  Everyone on the outside looking in saw that our family was a good strong family, parents taking us to church on Sunday.  Little did everyone know that it was all a lie.  That evil lived inside.  The only person who really loved me I think was my grandmother.  She was my salvation whenever she came over to our house she would always give me hugs and love me.  Those were the hugs I longed for, the ones I never ever got.  How I miss her.

My father controlled me letting me think that he really loved me, but that was just all a ploy.  He used me as his toy, because if he cared for me like a father was suppose to care for their child, he would never have sexually abused me.  Looking back I see how quiet and somber I was as a child.  Quite, sitting rocking back and forth, something I still do to this day.

I still think about when my father was dying from Alzheimers.  Was this his punishment?  I often wonder.  But I still wonder why, when he was in palliative care, that I had to stay every night in his room.  I slept there, then went home showered and changed for work.  I did this for 3 weeks.  For some reason, I just didn't want him to die alone.  I still don't get it.  My family didn't get it.  Even though I haven't forgiven him, I just had to be there.  He never ever did say "I'm sorry."  My mother never ever knew. 

Today, I am a survivor and am proud to be able to say that.  I have come a long way through therapy with a fantastic therapist, who helped me so much, and I know she reads my blog so thank you  for all your kindness and hard work we did together.  I am a better person today because of it, and because of so many other caring friends and family who were and still are here for me.  Abuse hurts a life time, but we can overcome it and leave our past where it belongs, in the past, and move on to our tomorrows.....~mg~ ©

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