Voices from Childhood

The price I paid for what was suppose to be free

I have always hated and loved my daddy.  This ambivalence has gone so deep down into my soul it effected my sexuality in a huge way.  One day I am a lesbian the next day I am heterosexual and Christian and just need to find the right man, then I see an attractive lady and I feel this masculine energy in me finding her attractive and I feel all gay again.   This has made my brain feel like a basketball being thrown from one wall to another never knowing who I really am or who I would be happiest dating.  Being off of all romantic relationships now for 5 years, I have had the privledge of feeling all the raw emotion that was hiding underneath my mass confusion.
Yes my daddy gave me a lot of attention, the only attention I had ever known.  He put me on his shoulders and showed me off to his work buddies like I was some kind of prize.  He entered me into beauty kiddie queen contests where being a very popular man in our small town, I would always win.  He took me places like carnivals, rotary shows, the beach, and the shower.   My favorite times were with him putting me up on the closed toilet seat after a shower and drying me off with a big fluffy towel from head to toe.  He even was the one who always taught me to wipe myself from the front to the back.  Where my mother was all this time is a mystery to me.  She had her hands full with my older sister so my dad and I were like one.  This made my mom and sister very mad and they got to take all that out on me after he died.  My dad showed interest in me, when I danced, played the piano, sang, and when I slept at 4am.  That is a strange time to wake a little girl, but it was more attention even if this kind made me ill.  The rages I would have were strong enough to motivate my parents to give me phenobarbital and use some lame excuse that I had a form of epilepsy and needed that drug.  I now know I was raging to get his hands off of me.  To get his damn huge giant body off of me and no one ever heard what my rages were really about.  When your daddy dies when you are only 9, it is easy to form an illusion of the father who might have been if he had only lived.  So I put my daddy's picture right next to my bed and everynight he was like my Jesus.  I had no idea the hidden sexual abuse that was already hiding in my little brain.  I would act out with other children and become quite the bully with other little girls who were more helpless than me.  I never could understand where this bully in me came from , but I now know I was just acting out the sexual abuse trauma that was forced on me every night.  Hiding this from my little brain I had only remembered the attention my daddy gave me.  It was he, not my mother, who taught me how to swim, ride a bike, play baseball, jump in raken leaves, and sit on his lap and read the funnies together.  It was he who would take us all out to dinner and work hard for us to always have a big house and yard and all the toys any little girl would love to have.  Remembering only these beautiful things made me love and miss my daddy so much.  I hardly had any room left to love any other man because my love for my daddy was so strong.  Not until recently have I become aware of how this lie has kept me from my own sanity.  Just last week I was being given free stuff left over from a church garage sale while the man whose yard it was in opened up to me full blast with his whole life story.  We started out talking about God and Jesus and Africa and all the world's oppression, but after about 5 hours of discussing his life, and only HIS life, he turned the conversation to sex.  I let him go on and on about this subject till it got so gross he was talking about why he liked anal sex and explaining to me the differences in women's orgasms.  I was frozen listening to this man thinking I might be helping him by letting him be so honest.  Not until I got away from him and got my mind back under my control did I realize how dumped on and disrespected I was treated.  This was a horrendous shame feeling in me and I turned to all I could to release this enromous self loathing I had eating me up over letting this man talk to me like he did.  After the goozing self hate subsided, I realized the price I had to pay for the "free" garage sale stuff and for all the good things my father did for me.  The price I had to pay to be bought nice things, and be taught, and to be showed off and to even be fed.  The price I had to pay for having a home to sleep in and a yard and pool to swim in.  The price I had to pay was to be his little wife when that bitch of a woman I had to call mother was too busy with her own little life to even notice the hell her husband was making of mine.  Yes daddy I am afraid to confront you even in this letter directly because you did say you would kill me if I told and you let it be known real early that you could hit me and rage at me and get away with anything you ever wanted to do to me.  No one could stop you.  No one.  I hate you.  I hate you.  I hate you.  I even giggled at your damn funeral and always thought that was just nervousness to cover up my pain.  NO it was not nervousness, it was a giggle of release to know you could never hurt me like that again.  You could never trap me like an animal again in your expensive home. You could never interrupt my needed sleep again with your leaking oozing sexual urges.  Of course mom had to marry someone just as obscene as you, but at least I knew I hated him.  You I thought I loved.  You I thought I cherished.  You were next to God to me.  And I always wondered why I couldn't get close emotionally to any real God concept.  Now I know.  You are not God and you are not even worthy to be called my father.  You were just a man in the dark who did nothing but scare and hurt and kill my little soul with your huge decrepid sexual needs.  All those things you gave me and did for me were suppose to be for free....FOR FREE.  Little girls shouldn't have to pay the price I had to for attention and stuff. Well you take your stuff and cram it cause I no longer need to suffer to get things I deserve!  I deserve love and attention and nice things and a good life without having to pay any price for that.  That just comes with being alive....that is just a humans right to have a good life, and because you made mine so miserable and used "stuff" to cover it all up, you go to hell and rot damn you.  You go to hell and rot.  I don't love you and any warmness I had from the "stuff" you gave me is no longer a reason to love you.  You should have given me all that for free out of love from your heart for the little adopted girl you stole from her mother.  My aunt Mary should have never given me to you but just because you had the big job and the big house, you even fooled her into thinking you were better for me than her.  Well you go to hell for stealing me from her and for making my little life's only purpose being to please you.  I am glad you are dead.  I am glad you are dead.  I am glad I can finally put your memory in the proper deparment in my brain......called closed.  My heart is closed to you and I will never have to pay that price again to be given the good things in life that were meant to be mine for free. Good bye

 

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