I Love My Abuser

There is one subject I have been avoiding. It's one that for me, is the hardest to talk about. I can talk about emotional abuse all day long, but physical abuse is another story.

I was physically abused by my father throughout my childhood. It wasn't an everyday thing but it happened enough for me to become extremely fearful of him. That fear has transferred itself into many areas of my life. When I see violence happening I cannot handle it because of the anxiety I am overcome with. I still hide if I hear people adults fighting. My heart is very torn because I love my dad very much, but he did make mistakes just like everyone else. I guess his were a bit more severe though. He has many good things about him. When he was sober and not upset he took good care of my brother and I, especially when he was a single dad. He had no idea what to do with a girl, so he dressed me just like my brother and sent us to school with Top Roman in brown bags that we would eat dry. We actually loved the stuff. Every morning on our way to school he would stop and get me a Grandma's Chocolate Chip cookie. There was a time for a while after my parents divorced that me, my brother and dad lived in a barn he had built. We slept on hay bales. This sounds off-putting, but we loved it. We didn't know the difference. We would wake up in the morning and play at the ranch. We had lots of animals like a pig, horses and pony and chickens. We also would ride our 50cc motorcycle and quad there. My brother and I had fun playing a lot.

My dad didn't become violent often when we were really young, just spankings. His violence became worse as we got older. His fuse became shorter and shorter over time. I remember one time, my brother and I were making fun of one of his close friends and he became upset. We saw the look in his eyes and started running for my room because it was on the second story and the furthest away. He started chasing us up the stairs. We knew it was inevitable for him to catch us. When he got to my room, my brother and I were huddled together. He grabbed and smacked us together. He threw us on my bed and told us to get against the wall and started yelling at us. Poison heard what was going on and came up stairs. He left the room and we hid in the bathroom where I was attending to my bloody nose. All of a sudden he was acting like nothing happened and that he didn't hurt us.

When I was a teenager we had a boat. A lot of the fighting happened on the boat. When our friends found out we had a boat they thought it was so cool. Not to me. To me it was just another place for fighting. One time I was singing when I was in bed because I was bored. My dad told me to be quiet, but from his tone I didn't think he actually cared. Well, I was wrong. He came into where I was laying in my bunk against the wall and started slapping me everywhere. After he was done slapping me and took me out of the boat and into his truck. He told me when we got to Big Bear he was going to fuck me up. He decided to stop in Los Angeles and told me to get out of the car. I was so scared of him I wanted to get out. I went for the door, but he locked it and told me I was crazy. Anything was better than being with him right then. There are too many times my dad became physical. I do not have the time to even begin to write of all them.

I wasn't the only one who felt my father's wrath. My brother endured a lot as well. One day when my brother got home from school he tried to get into the house. It was locked so he kicked it. He didn't realize it would break the door. Poison was pissed and said my dad would deal with him later. I remind you, this was over a door...that's it. When my dad got home, Poison was pestering him about how he was going to punish his son. I was up stairs in my room with my younger step sister who has cerebral palsy. He called my brother to the kitchen where it quickly escalated. I could hear him hitting and beating my brother from up stairs! I didn't know what to do. I was too afraid to do anything. I had an old phone hidden in my room but I thought if I were to call the cops on him he would beat me too. So I listened, cried and started praying over and over again for it to stop. I am so infuriated just writing this. My step-mom was watching this happen and didn't do anything. Nope, she encouraged it! Dylan came upstairs and I looked at his back to see the damaged. He was red and purple all over his back. The next day at school kids noticed the markings in his gym class. Someone told a teacher, but my brother denied everything. Every time my dad would have to deal with the cops about us we would get punished. We weren't going to tell anyone.The cops couldn't even protect us.

On time in elementary school, the cops came to talk to us because they got a tip that we were being abused. They checked our bodies for marks. We told them a little but not much. They told us we could confide in them and that they wouldn't repeat what we said. We told them we wanted to live with our mom. This message was relayed to my dad and step-mom. We were confined to our rooms. They said if we didn't want to be a part of the family we could stay in our rooms. That's the last time we told anyone anything in authority.

When I was in the sixth grade I had a problem with lying and stealing. My parents showed up one day at school and questioned my class mates. They wanted to find out about the lies and what I had been stealing. The sad part was that I only stole from my family. I trembled when I saw them on the playground. I ran to meet them to see what was happening. They went to talk to my teacher and took me out of school. When I got home I had to sit and wait for my dad to get off work. When he got home I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs and began to tremble in fear. First he tore everything off my wall. Next he trampled on all of my things and broke them. Everything he broke he threw at me. He then lifted up my twin bed on its side and had me put my hands on it. He began to whip me. He whipped me so long even Poison tried telling him that was enough. He said that it wasn't and that I wasn't getting the picture. After he was done, I was told to pack all of my things in bags. They took all of my things out of my room except one outfit and a notepad. I was to wear this outfit everyday. I was taken out of school for the rest of the year. The next day I was given yet another boy haircut. I was confined to my room everyday where I had to read and write pages of reports. If Poison needed to go somewhere she would leave me in the car, sometimes for hours.

I was alone for months this time. It was different from all the other punishments. It lasted a whole summer. When my birthday came that June it was not to be celebrated as a part of my punishment. When I would finished my reports I would write poetry about my sadness. Writing poetry really saved me during that time. When I finally rejoined my classmates in middle school I had changed. I was never the same girl I feel. I had fewer friends from being gone so long. I was embarrassed for the haircuts and clothes they made me wear. My self worth was hanging in the gutter.

These are just a few of the abusive events. I don't understand why I still continue to love my dad sometimes. I guess it's unconditional love I have because I came from him and I know the man he can be or could be. I have worked since I was sixteen to reconcile us, but the truth is there are a lot of scars. I'm not sure they will ever heal. I believe in forgiveness. If I ever want to be forgiven of my wrongs, I must learn to forgive others of theirs, no matter how bad. I don't write this to tear my father down, but the truth needs to be told. As far as I know he still thinks abusing his kids is okay because they are his property, but it is not okay. Abusing children will never be okay. I hope one day he can realize all the pain and heartache that he caused my brother and I. I hope he can realize one day that despite all of this we still love him and reach out to him.

If you ever read this dad, we love you. We were very hurt by our upbringing, but we know it has made us strong. It has made us who we are today and we are proud of that. I hope one day you can experience true freedom, love and joy. Because when you are ready, we are here.