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The First Man Who Broke My Heart

Unfortunately my childhood has to be the most painful memory I have until now.

I grew up in a dysfunctional home, where my father was a drunk, lazy, woman beater who would cheat on my mom continuously. My mother was just a woman who was trying to keep a family together, because she wanted me to have a father around. She would constantly kick him out of the house, place his clothes in garbage bags and ask him to leave. But eventually he would always come back.

I was sexually assaulted continuously in my childhood by my own father. I was around 5-9 years old.

Ever since I was little, my mother would overwork to fulfill my needs and my own father would “take care” of me. This seems normal, right? Well, no. He would sexually assault and abuse me on a regular daily basis.

I have very few memories about this, because I feel like my own way of dealing with it and healing/ escaping was to make believe this never happened, to block it out of my mind, my heart…everything, but recently I have accepted that I did experience things that I should not have.

Picture this: Having your mother working 2 full time jobs, and a father who barely ever worked in his life. Most of my time would be spent with this man I have to call dad until this day. I’m 22*

He would undress in front of me, ask me to undress in front of him, he would ask me to give him oral sex and he would do the same to me. Supposedly this was our “game”. He would obligate me touch him, and watch pornographic movies while we were alone, which was basically all day.

I honestly never saw or felt that it was wrong at first, but when the ” You can’t anybody that we do this, This is our little secret” popped up, I knew something was not right.

This happened too much I would say, until one day he tried to penetrate me but I didn’t let him. Something in me knew that he shouldn’t be doing this to his own daughter. I refused, pulled my flower panties up, and locked myself in another room.

It got to the point where I would run away from him, hide in my room just because he began to get annoying asking me to do things every day, when I only wanted to play with my Barbies and finish my homework before my mother got home.

A couple of years later, these “acts” were not as frequent as before, and It felt great. I was relieved, I had all this time for myself, for my barbies, my clarinet; but I was also growing up, developing and turning into a women.

Sex Ed was new in school, and after that first sex ed class I felt like dying. I started to feel all of this guilt, and disgust for him and myself but I didn’t know what to do about the situation. He had left me alone now, so I would just pray to God that these “acts” wouldn’t happen ever again.

Thank God this man was incarcerated for another reason, and I matured without having him around and It was the best feeling ever. I had never felt so safe in my life. My mother would ask me if he ever touched me or approached me in a disrespectful manner but I never had the courage to confess, for her sake. She had been through enough with this asshole and the last thing I wanted her to feel was guilt for leaving me alone with him.

This man tried to come back into our lives years later, and I was 15 and definitely more scared than ever. My mother was ecstatic about the idea of having him back in our lives, being a “family” but it was obvious that I wasn’t.

I gave him the chance of winning my mother’s heart back, but he never received any type of affection from me ever again. We would constantly bicker and get very physical and aggressive for any reason so I moved out of my house at the age of 16/17 for a while, until they decided to go their own separate ways for good.

‘Til this day only 4 people know this story, and my mother is not one of them. He still calls me, asks me how I’m doing but this subject has never been brought up. I dissimulate a lot around my mother because it would kill her to know the truth, and for her it’s important for me to keep in touch with him.

Someday I will have the strength to stare at him in the eyes and tell him what a scumbag he is, but now is not the time.

I find it very hard to trust men, and people in general. If someone who had my own blood caused so much damage I wouldn’t want to give anyone the power of doing the same. I grew up with a lot of anger problems, eating disorders, depression and always blamed myself for allowing such bizarre things.

I can now say that I overcame these issues alone, just talking it out and knowing that this wasn’t my fault, that there are people out there with twisted intentions and serious psychological problems.

Please moms, be very aware.!!!!! We live in a crazy world. If you suspect any malicious or suspicious activity be even more alert.


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