He Was Supposed to Protect Me

It Happened…

when I was just a toddler, I have memories from 2 ½ years old.  It stopped when I was 10.  It happened too many times for 8 long years.  I was meek, scared, timid.  I was his perfect target but I was supposed to be his little girl.

It Was…

my biological father, one half of who had created me.  The man who was supposed to protect me from harm and love me like a Daddy was my real life monster.  He told me all the time it was my fault, made me promise not to tell.  He told me he would kill my mum, he bribed me with chocolate.  To this day I cannot eat a Milky Way.  He abused me when my family was home, when they were out, it did not matter.  He enjoyed seeing me in fear, he liked when he hurt me.  At times he tried to be gentle but he did not realize it always hurt.

It Made Me Feel…

lost.  Scared.  Completely and utterly alone.  I wet the bed until I was 9.  I was scared of male teachers who yelled.  I turned inward, learnt to dissociate, lived in a magical fantasy as a child where I wished a unicorn would fly me out of the hell I was in.  I lost my faith in God, I begged for a miracle, for God to save me and he never did.  I began to believe I was nothing, not worth anything at all.  I wanted to die. When it stopped I thought I could move on with life.  I was wrong.  It ate at me, I hurt myself, cutting my wrists, suicidal, digging open my scalp to make deep holes that bled. I punched myself, raked my knuckles over concrete, anything to feel physical pain.  I wanted to escape.   I wasn’t even sure I was real anymore, I was disconnected from everything and felt I was dying inside.  I got anxiety, diagnosed with PTSD, suffered from graphic flashbacks, nightmares, triggers for the rest of my life.  I had lost control over my own body, it had been taken from me and used and abused.   I started counseling as a teen and continue it to this day.

I Told…

my mum about one time only when I was 7 years old.  Nothing changed.  I was too scared to talk then.  The abuse just got worse after then, my father was angry I had told our secret.  He hurt me a lot worse after that.  After I told he took my virginity, taking pleasure in my pain but was scared when I bled.  I told a counselor when I was 25 years old about the full extent of the abuse, then my mum when I was 27.  She had never known what had gone on for so many years.  I held onto it for so long it almost killed me.  But I tore apart the remaining family I had left when it all came out, my relationships with my siblings were damaged.  My mum just did not understand.  No one did.  How could they?

The counselor helped me, she told me it was not my fault and what had been done to me was a crime.  She was the first person who had told me that.  She asked me if I wanted to report this to the police and I said yes.  It was time for me to fight.  I wanted to fight, to hold him responsible and lift the shame and guilt I carried.  It wasn’t mine to carry.  My counselor called the police, the process started.  I was believed, there was no doubt from anyone.  6 month police investigation turned into 14 months, I got a committal hearing and had to give evidence via video link.  But those two days almost ended me.

This justice system protects the offenders, not the victims.  I was pulled apart and violated, revictimised by the defence lawyer hired to defend my father.  He mocked me, did everything in his power to break me on the stand, sighed with impatience while I sat there choking, having a panic attack.  Every right I have as a person was taken away from me during this process.  I had thought what I was doing was going to free me in some way but it only imprisoned me further.  The justice system showed me what I had believed for so long, that I was nothing, worth nothing, that what had been done to me had to be forgotten about because the system failed me, I could not have him held accountable for what he did to me, his daughter.

It made me feel like I had wasted so much time and energy for nothing.  A case I was told was one of the worst of incest and familial abuse was dropped.  I turned inward again, destroyed relationships in my life because I was angry at the world.  I hated the system I had once had so much faith in.  I hated my father for being able to be free when I was still locked in a cell that he had created for me.

I Survived…

I just did.  I am a fighter. Everything else failed me but I would not give in.

I Dream…

one day of a system that protects and supports its victims.  Hand out sentences that they actually deserve, community orders and suspended sentences for these types of offenders need to cease immediately.  The laws need to be changed so that every accused has to give evidence, there should be no plea bargaining on crimes such as these.  Each offence should be tried, not bundled together for ease of the courts.  It is not for the court, it is for the victim or it should be.  The way this world is now, nothing will change.   Pedophiles are protected everywhere throughout the community.  Survivors don’t talk because what is the point, what does it get them?

I Want…

other survivors to know, it was not your fault, you are not alone.  All the feelings you are feeling, all the thoughts you are thinking, there is someone else out there feeling and thinking those things, too.  Put the shame of what happened to you back onto the offender if you can, it took me more than half my life to do that but on some level it helped.   Believe you are worth something because you are.

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