Survivors' Story

My earliest memory is three years old I remember sitting astride my father playing Jockeys this is what he called this game. My mother worked nights and he would keep me up to play games while she was out. I remember my hands being too small to go round the girth of his penis. He gave a name to it ''touch'' Can I have a touch this varied from full on sex to masturbation to rubbing his penis against my private parts. This carried on for years, he would get me up early in the morning while everyone was in bed or keep me up late, he would come into my bedroom or the bathroom and touch me. He even made me sleep in there bed and touched me while she was asleep.

I had to sit with him in the evenings he would lie on the sofa I had to lie behind him and he would put his hands in my pants the others would be in the room watching telly. It was always dark we never used the lights at night. I had to go everywhere with him. He talked to me like an adult alienating my mother she would call me daddy’s girl. He said he loved me and that he did it as an act of love and that others wouldn’t understand.

When I was eighteen he said he hated me going out and would get jealous one night he dragged me back from a party and violently raped me. He cried afterwards and was sorry. He said then he wouldn’t touch me again. I got my first boyfriend, when I came back from an evening out my father would open my legs and check to see if I was excited or had sex. He would ask me to walk around in my underwear and would touch me in the bath. He often went into sulks and violent mood swings and would not talk to any of the family for days this was usually because I wouldn’t play his games. His hold on me was strong and I was ashamed of this. I left home at twenty six to get married I found it hard to break the hold. I always feel guilty that I stayed for so long, I can’t explain it but it was all I ever new. I am forty one now and he is dead the hold is broken, I lead a full life but still have scars, no children, afraid of sex and pregnancy very little self confidence and a loathing for myself. I mask this and live life, I have a wonderful husband and am in a loving relationship. 

I am who I am because of my experience I try to be positive about life, I am compassionate and love people I always try to understand others. I don’t hate my father, I am not and never have been angry, I don’t pity him but I know he couldn’t stop himself.

Anon