Heather
I never look forward to Father’s Day.
It really sucks because my husband is a kick-ass father.
He deserves this day, but instead he gets to deal with a depressed wife.
This day should focus on him, but without fail it always focuses back on me. For this is the day that my stepbrother decided to show me what all the ‘big girls were doing.’
Each year my mother would insist that we go to my biological father’s house for Father’s Day. I would beg to stay home, to be with MY dad. But she insisted we go and so we would. We would drive down the two hours to my stepmother’s family reunion. The adults would always be up in the house and the kids swam in the pond, rode 4-wheelers or just played in the woods.
He was thirteen, I was six. He was never very nice to me. I so wanted to be liked, I wanted to be able to hang out with my ‘older brothers.’
He said if I could be a big girl I would be able to go in his room and listen to his radio. Did I know what big girls did?
He took me into the woods and made me lay on the ground. He took off his pants & all I remember is the suffocating feeling as he shoved himself down my throat. I tried to scream, to shove him off of me, but I couldn’t. He touched me in places that made me hurt. And when he was all done he told me what a bad girl I was. How much trouble I would be in if my ‘father’ found out what I had done to him. He told me I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone, because if I did there was a place where they sent the bad girls to and I didn’t want to go there. I just wanted to go home.
Every other weekend for nearly four years this would go on. I would beg my mother to let me stay home. She had no clue why and I was afraid to tell her.
Afraid of her sending me away to where the bad girls went.
If he couldn’t get me alone during the day, he would come into the bedroom where I slept at night. I thought if I just pretended that I was sleeping that he would go away. But he was never discouraged–my ‘sleeping’ only encouraged him more. I remember hiding panties that had blood stains on them for fear I would just get trouble like my brother did when he wet himself at my stepmother’s house. I didn’t want them to pin my panties to the front of my clothes and make me walk around like that all day.
One summer day when he had me pinned behind the garage getting ready to “take my bad to a new place,” as he said, his mother came around the corner. I remember the screaming. She kept telling him he was just like his father. She made him go to his room. I was told to go in the bathroom. She made me take a shower. The water was scalding, I remember crying because my shoulders felt like they were on fire.
Once my father got home work he spanked my stepbrother. He got grounded, and they took away his new boombox. My stepmother asked me why did I let him do this. She insisted that maybe I liked it. She tossed around words that included “like her mother.”
My father, the police officer, asked that I keep it a secret.
He said if I told my mother that we would never be able to see my grandmother again.
That bad would happen. ”You don’t want bad things to happen, do you Heather?”
So I never told. When I dated in high school I could hardly hold a guy’s hand without wigging totally out. I wore black, clothes that were many sizes too big for me, and I became a flower on the wall. I wished I could be outgoing, to put myself out there, but I knew I couldn’t. Then I met Jeremy.
He knew that something was wrong as it neared another Father’s Day when I was freaking the fuck out. I laid it all out there for him, thinking he would run screaming for the hills. He didn’t. He told me that he wanted to kill my stepbrother. I told him that it didn’t matter, I am sure it was something I did. All of these years I have blamed myself. He told me that it wasn’t me, it was that sick monster that did this.
Ten years ago when my stepbrother got hit by a car and I got the email from my biological father, I smiled. If ever I thought there was a God, it was then. He was getting his, and I was thankful. But every day I see my girls and see how others look at them, wondering what they are thinking about my girls–what sick, twisted thoughts are going through their brains. I am very involved in their lives, not because I have time, or even because I want to. Simply because I have no choice. If I am there, than nothing can happen to them.
I know that it isn’t true, but it helps to keep my mind at ease.
***
Heather blogs at Domestic Extraordinaire.
45 Responses to “Heather”
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You are really brave to put yourself out there like this. I’m proud that you are breaking the cycle with your daughters. ((HUGS))
Heather, I am so, so sorry for what you went through and for the obvious pain you are still coping with today.
Thank you for sharing. I wish for you as much peace as the world holds.
You are so strong to have let this out and even I smiled a bit when I read that your stepbrother got hit by a car.
I’m glad that you’ve got someone that supports you. I really am. Though I know it wasn’t the onus of this, but don’t worry about stealing the ‘limelight’ on father’s day. You went through a helluvah lot on and it’s not right that you should have to supress it.
::mucho hugs::
Just amazing. I can’t believe how many “adults” swept this under the rug. How very brave of you to put this out here. To write those words. People like you are the reason less of this will happen in the future.
Oh, mama. I am wiping my tears away. I hope the little girl in you finds healing.
Heather, I know how you feel and I’m so very honored to have read what you’ve been through, that you were brave enough to share it. I hope that it starts purging the hurt inside of you.
Oh, Heather. I had no idea.
Love and hugs and everything to you today (and forever).
Every time I read someone’s story here I end up with the same feelings, the foremost of which is helplessness. I feel helpless to help. I just can’t seem to find the words that could offer all the peace, healing, love, hope, strength, joy, kindness that a hurting heart deserves.
Yet, even though there are so many stories, each one is unique; each one speaks of a life touched deeply by so many conflicting things. But, pain and shame seem to be consistent.
Heather, thank you for sharing your story. Know that there are many out here today whose hearts are touched by your bravery; who will be encouraged in their own struggle with abuse; who stand here wishing we could reach through the fiber-optic cables to hug, encourage, listen to and be with you on such a big day as this.
I wish you all the peace, love, healing and joy possible.
Thank you, again, for sharing.
Heather, you are so freaking brave to talk about this. To put yourself out there. I know about this, more than I care to admit.
A million hugs to you my friend.
Oh, honey. I’m so sorry for your pain…I can only imagine how much it hurt to even write this. I’m glad you found the support of a good man – and have been able to move past it 364 days out of the year. I think one day a year, you should be allowed to grieve…
You are amazingly brave to tell your story. And I am deeply saddened and horrified that you had to go through all of this in your life. I am sure that this will help so many people speak out and against this kind of abuse and the silence that is forced afterwards. I hope it freed you somewhat. And I am glad that your girls have you as a mother. They are in wonderful hands.
I wish you healing.
Tricia
Heather, I’m so sorry you were ever put in that position and even when it was found out, YOUR FATHER, a police officer, asked you to keep it a secret. You are brave to tell your story.
I’m trying not to be speechless. Want you to know how brave I think you are for sharing your story.
I have a seven year old girl – and my heart breaks for the six year old you.
Oh Heather. I didn’t know any of this either. I am so, so sorry. No child should ever go through the hell that you endured.
So proud of you for sharing your story, you brave lady.
Six. Six, I can’t digest that as my daughter nears 5. Bastard.
Heather, thank you for speaking out…thank you for admitting that the memory (and pain) is too much, even if it is Father’s Day, because that’s hard too.
peace,
WRO
You are brave, you are strong for sharing this. And like the others here, I wish I could take away your pain.
Oh Heather, I had no idea that you went through that. As I read this, my heart aches for you and for all the unnecessary pain your stepbrother inflicted on you. I’ve always admired you and now I do even more. You are a brave woman and I’m so fortunate to call you a friend.
Thank you for your bravery and sharing your story ((hugs))
oh, my dear. you are so brave to tell your story. your girls will not be put in the same situation because they HAVE a safe place. they have you on their side and they will know that “the bad place” doesn’t exist.
my apologies for your experiences don’t do anything to stop the pain, i know. but i’m sorry all the same that you had to go through any of that.
speaking out is the best revenge. their is no power greater than uncovered secrets. i hope you are able to read over these comments and use them as reminders that none of it was your fault and that you have so much support.
I read every one of these stories and I try to comment on all of them. (I think I have at least a 95 percent success rate.) It’s hard though to know just how to react to such pain.
It’s bad enough that you went through what you went through, but then to have your own family make it even worse. Sorry just isn’t a strong enough word.
The upside is that you are speaking out, a voice coaxed and encouraged by Jeremy. (God love him!) It sounds like you are slowly making peace within yourself (which is ALWAYS the most important place to make it) and I hope that speaking out helps that.
You also are helping others by sharing. It’s good to know that there are people who understand and by sharing you story, that message goes out to someone else. May the happiness and peace you deserve be yours.
I want so badly to be able to offer something of support and comfort to you (and everyone who shares in this way, really), but the means of expression at my disposal seems nowhere near enough.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry you were hurt and betrayed and hung out to dry by the people who were supposed to love you above all else and were charged with your protection and care.
i am so sorry the adults in your life couldn’t take their heads out of their asses. you should be very proud of yourself that your girls will never have to go through what you did. And please don’t think EVERONE is thinking sick things…there are many that are thinking “wow, what a great job that mom is doing to have such wonderful children”
Thank you for sharing your heartbreaking story here.
How tragic the scars from our child, what a hold they still have.
Wishing you the very best.
Your bravery in putting this out there is much appreciated. I’m so sorry you went through that. And so glad that you came through to be this extraordinary person. hugs.
6? Oh, Heather. I am so sorry. So very sorry. I have no words to offer for I am speechless. Hugs.
My heart hurts for what you went through. You are so brave in sharing everything. Thank you.
Oh lord. Hearing stuff like this makes me so sad, for little-girl you.
But also proud of what a brave and wonderful person and mother you have become.
I’m glad that bastard-jerk died.
May your healing continue and increase.
NOT YOUR FAULT.
*HUGS*
Heather, you are a very courageous soul for writing this. I can’t imagine the pain and suffering. I am so proud of you and admire your ability to have a loving relationship and to be a wonderful Mom. May God continue to help in your healing.
i am so sorry. you are so strong for your own kids, and that’s what matters most.
Good for you for sharing.
I’m glad he got hit by a car.
I’m sorry for what he did to you, for the pain you’ve endured, for the shame you have carried through no fault of your own. I hope you will be able to let that shame go & believe deep in your heart that what happened was not your fault.
Thank you for telling your story. You have a great deal of courage & strength.
Heather, you are a very courageous soul for writing this. I can't imagine the pain and suffering. I am so prouf of you and admire your ability to have a loving relatipnship and to be a wonderful Mom. May God continue to help in youd healing.;
I can’t say I’m sorry your stepbrother got his karmic reward, and I’m not for a nanosecond going to defend him. But hearing about the environment he grew up in, I also can’t say I’m all that surprised by what he did to you. I don’t know what his father was like, but it sounds like he had a lot in common with his stepfather at least.
“Keep shut about it.”
“Bad things will happen if you tell. If anybody finds out what you did.”
“You don’t want bad things to happen, do you?”
Someone that would make a kid wear his underwear pinned to his clothes all day for wetting himself is twisted enough to turn anything inside out. And your fears about the panties might well have been justified. I wouldn’t be surprised by anything that went on in that house. I wonder what your mother may have gone through with this man herself while she was with him.
My head just can’t quite wrap around the idea that a father — absentee or otherwise — would betray his own child in such a cruel way. He may not have committed the actual assaults themselves, but he condoned it by his silence. He aided and abetted a felony. A cop, an accessory after the fact. Which by legal definition makes him just as guilty as his stepson. By any kind of ethical definition it simply makes him a monster.
I’m glad you found Jeremy. Found someone who deserves your love. Someone who knows what that actually is. I’d like to think that he’s one of the majority in the world at-large. I’d like to think that most people can see the truth of your story and the countless others like it. But more than that I hope with all my being that you understand the truth of it. That you have no cause for shame, or guilt. That you didn’t “let this happen”. And that the alleged adults in this whole sick drama put their concern for their own “image” above their concern for a six-year-old girl.
As for your girls, I have a good feeling about their futures. Not because you’re so heavily involved in what they’re doing, but because I’m virtually certain that you’ll make sure they understand that no matter what may happen you’re in their corner. They know — I’m sure of it — that if anyone tried to hurt them they could come to you, no matter what that person might tell them to the contrary. They won’t ever have to face the doubt you did. You won’t leave room for that doubt.
I want to be a comforting voice, I want to find the magic words that will turn on the light bulb and give you peace. But there aren’t any. Or if there are, I don’t know them. All I can offer is the litany that reads “You are not to blame. No matter what they told you, the guilt is not yours to bear. It never was. No matter what they took from you, your pride, your dignity, your self-esteem, the one thing they could not steal was your innocence. And from that innocence grows the courage it took to write this down and post it here for all the world. And in these words, someone else will find their own courage.”
Because of that courage, you’ve broken the silence, and broken the cycle.
Much love to you.
(((u)))
I hope you find a place of peace in your heart. Sending a gentle hug for the sweet 6 year old in you that had to endure such a painful history.
Stories like yours reaffirm the necessity for this forum. Any type of abuse from relative, friend, stranger – none of it is acceptable for the victims pay the price indefinitely. Thank you for sharing and for possibly preventing many other stories like yours – your daughters will at least be armed with knowledge of what situations to avoid, if possible, or to tell you if anything resembling these acts occurs to or happens around them. Bless you and I sincerely hope that the pain will recede somewhat with time. Please remember none of this was your fault.
Thank you for having the courage to survive and to share your story.
I smiled when my abuser died as well. It helped take some of the hurt to the grave.
You are so strong.
What a rotten little demon. And your father, a police officer? Of all people! Not that it makes him any different from most other cops in my experience. If it’s any comfort, try to remember that those people really ARE abnormal – and not everyone who likes your daughters is a pervert. I know it’s hard. I wish you and your family all the best and I hope your asshole of a father feels the guilt of what he allowed for the rest of his life.
You are a very strong, brave person. Hugs to you for being able to get this out. I smiled a bit when you said he got hit too.
Thank you all for your kind words. At times they have been hard to read, but I am thankful to my friends and to friendly strangers that have offered me support and virtual hugs.
I do feel the need to correct myself. While he got hit by a car, he didn’t pass away. He is still alive, very disabled from the accident, but alive none the less. We have no contact with him at all. I would love to say that I have no contact with my father as well, and for the most part I don’t. I just need to get over the guilt that he puts on me because he’s my father and I should spend time with him. I would love to have a normal relationship with him, but I have come to the conclusion that its never possible and through writing this post and listening to everyone’s comments about him, I now know why. To be honest I never blamed him for the abuse-it didn’t click like that in my head. But to re read my story-I see that he could have been my biggest advocate but instead decided to turn his back on me.
Again, words can not express my gratitude for all the support that you guys brought to me this week. Thank you.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Wow, even on a site like this cataloging such experiences, I am blown away by your story. I’m glad it has a happy ending, but man, you are a triumph of good over evil if I’ve ever heard one. Thank you for spreading your story so that others can benefit from it.
I don’t know which is worse, a twisted boy doing this, or grown adults reacting the way they did instead of protecting you. It just makes me sad to imagine. I need to focus on how well you have adjusted and transcended the experience. You are a very special person.
I’m sorry this happened to you – it was never your fault, and I am sorry no one stood up for you. Thank you for sharing your story.
I am so, so sorry this happened to you.
Even moreso, I am sorry your father the police officer told you not to tell.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Heather, thank you for sharing your story. I have a 6-year-old son and I would be absolutely horrified if he went through something like that. You are so very right that none of it was your fault, and so very brave to let the man you loved know about it. When my abusive first husband got shoved down a flight of stairs by the next wife he abused, I smiled too when I heard about it.