I think being in quarantine is even worse for my mental health than I thought. I didn't notice it at first but I am more sad than happy, and I've cried myself to sleep more in the past 3 weeks than I had in the whole 6 months that I was away at school. I feel like I'm back in high school, but even then I was happier than I am now. I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this, I need to this to be over soon, like really soon because my heart is starting to get heavy again, and I don't want it too. I finally, finally, felt the weight lifting, slowly, slowly, but it was happening and I was smiling better and pulling myself together.
Now we're back here and It's like any progress I've made is disappearing and I can't catch happiness for longer than a couple hours at a time. I'm tired, I just want to go away.
I've looked into online therapy, for now, I think I need it. Were trying 7 cups tonight, i will update you, my zero readers (which is how I like it), on how it goes.
Sunday, May 10, 2020
hiring; a therapists
I should probably find a therapist, but now I'm stuck at home and additionally broke, I'm pretty sure therapy is expensive, and I know that my insurance covers it but then my parents would see I'm getting therapy and they don't need to know, because they probably think it's fake, my mom would for sure yell at me, because what would people think. That's what it's about for her and that people are dying all over the world or that I didn't make enough of a sacrifice to have mental problems. For her it doesn't equate, she would be angry and maybe embarrassed.
There was this girl, Halle Daniel, in the 7th grade someone made a presentation about something anti-gay and I don't know which way she oriented but she felt attacked, and after school that day she went missing. Her friends didn't know where she had run off, but whatever they said tugged at my heart, and by the time my dad picked me up I was crying. So we gathered whoever was still left at school that day and we searched the neighborhood, but after about an hour we couldn't find anything, so they said they would call the cops and my dad told me we did everything we could and he put me in the car and started to drive us home. On the drive home, in the rain, as I was staring absent-mindedly out my window, I saw her, walking on the sidewalk across the street drenched in rainwater. We picked her up and drove her to my friend's house, where we calmed her down and got her mom to pick her up.
We never knew where she was heading that day, or what her intentions we're, but people talked and the common assumption was that she was going to kill herself, maybe it's true maybe it's not but its what my dad told my mom when we got home later that day. I was distraught, still processing but when she told me she was going to my cousin's house, I hoped in the car. On the drive there she picked a fight and I told her she couldn't yell at me because one of my friends almost killed herself today. She stopped the car in the middle of the street and yelled at me for getting involved and then she told me to never speak of what happened to my cousins today or to anyone ever or get out of the car and walk home.
There was another time, me, this time. It was about math, sometime in high school I think. I hated math, god so much, and I wasn't doing well. It was to the point where if I did bad on a test (bad being anything below a 70) I would spend the day crying to my friends because of the fear I felt of telling my parents what I got. The yelling was constant and maybe they were fighting at the point to, who knows, probably. But I just wanted things to stop, I don't know what I was thinking but I knew a couple girls in my class who cut themselves and so after the fight I ran up to my bathroom and tried to do it. I don't know why really, I just needed a second to breathe and maybe not feel numb, but as I was failing to cut myself I forgot to lock my bathroom door and my dad walked in. He broke down, he thought I was trying to kill myself and then my mom found out, and while my dad was bawling his eyes, she got angry, I don't remember what she said but it was cold, that's what I remember, the anger.
I never spoke a single word about anything related to things that go through my head, my parents beg to know what's going on in my life all the time, I give them enough, a funny story here and there, but they don't know me, not really, because I don't want them too. Not if what I want the most is to keep them as far away as possible, down to maybe 5 calendar day visits a year. So why should I give them more of me, when they've already taken so much if eventually, they won't be there anymore? What's the point?
Complexity
Something I did learn from my parents is how complex a single person can be. My mother's sweet and funny but she's also a manipulative pathological liar and daddy's supportive but he's also a drunk aggressive whore. So here we are, there are more than two sides to a person and it's something I have honestly struggled to come to terms with because how, the hell, do you react to someone like that?
It's not just the bad people in my life, it's everyone, I mean if you think about it, you and your variety of friend groups, you have different people for different sides of your personality. That's why people tell you not to mix your friend groups, like eating cake and ramen, a disaster, because each of them sees different sides of you.
Like a chameleon changes color, we change our personality for different people, to best thrive in the situations that they put us in. The best way to survive is the way we present ourselves, it's not always who we are and most of the time it's not even close, but in that situation, in that moments, it is who you tell yourself to be.
So you can understand how this makes everything more complicated. How it makes life more complicated. I mean fuck... it suddenly becomes like solving a Rubix cube to figure people out, to figure yourself out honestly, because at the end of the day the only person you can really control is yourself right? You can't make other people like you, you cant make them happy or angry or talk a certain way, or treat you a certain way. You can only do you, that's it, that's the card we get and we have only it to play. But it's hard when reading the other players just got 12 times harder.
I have a complicated relationship with my mother because when I'm around her constantly I don't know what personality I'm getting, how to react to things that happened yesterday with her when she was angry, and whether or not I have the luxury of bringing it back up today. Sometimes I am not fair with her, I know that, but I get to have bad days too, I get to be moody and I can't stop myself from reacting to things that happen. And in those moments I get her immediate reaction, even I would react the same. It's what comes after, the name-calling, the wishing that really under everything she wished I didn't exist. Then it's up to me to forget it because I just have to move past it and forgive her for her cruelty the next day, because otherwise it doesn't stop, and I can't take that.
Anyways, we got a little off-topic here, but the real question I have here is, what are we supposed to do? How do we see someone one way without seeing other parts, their demons, the side of them that's a monster, because I can't figure that out? It doesn't weigh even, I feel like that every time me and my dad get into a fight, because in the back of my I am screaming, how can he call me any less than I am after what he did. How do you not bring that back every single time. How do you move past it, how do you not scream internally when you get into a fight and fight the urge to drudge up the past.
I think I get these urges because I have never processed the emotions completely, I've never spoken about what happened with my parents, to the extent that it did, out loud to a single soul, ever. I know that that's a huge part of it.
Tuesday, May 5, 2020
back in business
It has been a whole year since I started this blog and obviously as you can tell, keeping up with it hasn't really been a priority at all. In all honesty, I was scared to reopen this page, re-read what I was going through last year, it was dark and scary and extremely raw. That was the purpose of it, to be utterly honest, it was what I needed because I couldn't physically tell anyone what happened but I needed to get it out, to release some of the pressure on my mind so I could maybe start to move forward.
I'm back now, a different person, but I still have the same wounds. The past haunts me to do this day and I don't know if that will ever change. I survived though, and I can keep surviving but I think I have survived enough to write what happened down and maybe share it with someone else.
No one reads this blog, I doubt anyone even knows it exists but I'm hoping that by collecting these posts together maybe one day in the future when I've lived enough, I can bound together with my life into a book, a memoir, and hope my pain makes someone else feel just a little bit less alone in the world.
I'm going to organize my thoughts and I am going to make a list below of all the things that have happened in my life worth writing about, and then I'm going to write about them, everything that happened, what I did and felt about it and clear cut it.
Things to tell;
- a new university, new city, new me; what it's like moving out
- F R I E N D S and the perils of knowing other people
- adulting 101, being a teenager that pays bills
- my family sucks, what a surprise
- living through a pandemic, suddenly everyone has a podcast?
- I might have self-diagnosed my depression, but I'm pretty sure I'm right
- discovering just how much trauma impacts your life and how going through it brings up even more
Anyways stay tuned, ill be around and back in business
Monday, February 18, 2019
In other news
Good Evening!
It has been a while since I wrote anything and I am silently cursing at myself because I am doing everything I told myself I was not gonna do, which literally is to write regularly. But I am back to give you some updates on my life.
My second semester of grade 12 is going fabulously! I love every single one of my classes (even if I only have 3) and all my teachers. Their classes I actually wanna take, my favourite being writer's craft, I finally have the time and excuse to not structure my paragraphs and I have a reason to get to school every morning. Most of the time I'm still late. I have to keep a blog for that class as well but it doesn't cut so deep into my life, although I still briefly dig into why and who I am, its the light blanket stuff that makes you sad enough but not enough to call the police. I have a good group of friends in each class and I still get to have lunch with my best friend every day.
This is sem is flying by, discussions about prom dresses and graduation heels are paired with after-prom parties and grad trips. Things are happening a lot faster than I had expected and although it mostly excited it still dawns on me how fast I am running out of time. I am making all the best memories and taking lots of pictures too but it still sits in the back of the mind that in a couple of months nothing will be the same. We won't have that innocent high school gaze and things like actually adulting are something we're running right into.
Speaking of next year, I found myself a roommate! I ran into one of my old best friends at the coffee shop and after getting to talking we found out we want to go to the same university! We get along well enough and we have somewhat similar living habits plus she knows when to party and when to not party. We get along great and I know I'll have someone to run with me to get food at 2AM. I dont want to hope too much, but I want to hope a lot
In relation to my home life. it's okay I guess. My parents are back to normal they've swept it under the rug and so I have been forced to do the same thing even if I dont want to. I won't do anything about it though, I dont want to disrupt the peace. But still every time my dad yells at me, I wanna yell back "you're a horrible person, you raped somebody". I know I could do some real damage with that. Is it horrifying that I want to throw it in his face like that? Ugh, I just hate entire situation, but I just have to make it a couple more months and then I am out of here, ill be back only for a little amount of time now. And as much as I'll miss everyone I have here, I can't keep living like this. It's not forever, maybe one day ill be numb to it and get retrograde amnesia or something.
anyways, I have to get back to it now, from now on I wanna slowly drift away from my parents and maybe write some more fun stuff, like a good movie or my favourite songs who knows ill figure it out, I always do
It has been a while since I wrote anything and I am silently cursing at myself because I am doing everything I told myself I was not gonna do, which literally is to write regularly. But I am back to give you some updates on my life.
My second semester of grade 12 is going fabulously! I love every single one of my classes (even if I only have 3) and all my teachers. Their classes I actually wanna take, my favourite being writer's craft, I finally have the time and excuse to not structure my paragraphs and I have a reason to get to school every morning. Most of the time I'm still late. I have to keep a blog for that class as well but it doesn't cut so deep into my life, although I still briefly dig into why and who I am, its the light blanket stuff that makes you sad enough but not enough to call the police. I have a good group of friends in each class and I still get to have lunch with my best friend every day.
This is sem is flying by, discussions about prom dresses and graduation heels are paired with after-prom parties and grad trips. Things are happening a lot faster than I had expected and although it mostly excited it still dawns on me how fast I am running out of time. I am making all the best memories and taking lots of pictures too but it still sits in the back of the mind that in a couple of months nothing will be the same. We won't have that innocent high school gaze and things like actually adulting are something we're running right into.
Speaking of next year, I found myself a roommate! I ran into one of my old best friends at the coffee shop and after getting to talking we found out we want to go to the same university! We get along well enough and we have somewhat similar living habits plus she knows when to party and when to not party. We get along great and I know I'll have someone to run with me to get food at 2AM. I dont want to hope too much, but I want to hope a lot
In relation to my home life. it's okay I guess. My parents are back to normal they've swept it under the rug and so I have been forced to do the same thing even if I dont want to. I won't do anything about it though, I dont want to disrupt the peace. But still every time my dad yells at me, I wanna yell back "you're a horrible person, you raped somebody". I know I could do some real damage with that. Is it horrifying that I want to throw it in his face like that? Ugh, I just hate entire situation, but I just have to make it a couple more months and then I am out of here, ill be back only for a little amount of time now. And as much as I'll miss everyone I have here, I can't keep living like this. It's not forever, maybe one day ill be numb to it and get retrograde amnesia or something.
anyways, I have to get back to it now, from now on I wanna slowly drift away from my parents and maybe write some more fun stuff, like a good movie or my favourite songs who knows ill figure it out, I always do
Monday, January 21, 2019
Kadima
Kadima is the Hebrew word for forwarding. It is often used at times of graduation.
In a sense, I am graduating to. From my pain, it's been a couple days but its starting to hurt less.
I don't know where I really stand when it comes to the actions of my father's past, things are tense and awkward.
Now that I know everything, there is no way things will be the way they once were.
I can step back and remember what things were like before, its like two people exist within him, and before I could only see one at a time but now they are both blurring together and every nice fatherly thing he does is followed by the visions of his darkness. I can't separate the two anymore, I don't know if I will ever be able to.
It seems like they intend to sweep it under the rug, my parents I mean.
That I am angry about, even though the idea of divorce always scared me, I know their lives would be increasingly better if they were apart.
Each fight they have just gets bigger and the impacts last longer, it's dangerous, like a ticking time bomb, getting closer to exploding every time it hits the floor.
I, on the other hand, have a new perspective on life. The same one that made me see divorce as not the end of the world but a new beginning. I have realized the power and destruction of my own mind and loneliness have. Left alone I am left to my imagination which creates nightmares instead of dreams.
After talking to an amazing person in my life, she made me realize that I am responsible for my own happiness.
That the world is always going to be falling apart and to thrive in it, I have to actively seek out the ways and things that make me happy.
It would help me keep my sanity.
I do that now.
And it has been incredible.
I find joy in little things I would never have thought twice about last year.
Little things like eating breakfast.
Seeing the many colours in the sky.
Seeing the smiles on the faces of my friends.
The laughter we share when we burst out with our favourite songs.
The eyes on the cute boy I wanna kiss.
The smoke that floats to the sky from our crappy makeshift bong.
The smells of flowers and tangerines that come from my candle.
The way my dog falls asleep in your arms if you pet his head long enough.
Just listening to them talk about funny things that have happened.
Just hearing the song on the radio from that time we drove for ages together.
Just witnessing them fall back into some of the memories that we have made.
I am not always okay, but I am getting there.
I have come to realize that my situation sucks, but if I didn't have the people in my life that I do.
It would be a lot worse
In a sense, I am graduating to. From my pain, it's been a couple days but its starting to hurt less.
I don't know where I really stand when it comes to the actions of my father's past, things are tense and awkward.
Now that I know everything, there is no way things will be the way they once were.
I can step back and remember what things were like before, its like two people exist within him, and before I could only see one at a time but now they are both blurring together and every nice fatherly thing he does is followed by the visions of his darkness. I can't separate the two anymore, I don't know if I will ever be able to.
It seems like they intend to sweep it under the rug, my parents I mean.
That I am angry about, even though the idea of divorce always scared me, I know their lives would be increasingly better if they were apart.
Each fight they have just gets bigger and the impacts last longer, it's dangerous, like a ticking time bomb, getting closer to exploding every time it hits the floor.
I, on the other hand, have a new perspective on life. The same one that made me see divorce as not the end of the world but a new beginning. I have realized the power and destruction of my own mind and loneliness have. Left alone I am left to my imagination which creates nightmares instead of dreams.
After talking to an amazing person in my life, she made me realize that I am responsible for my own happiness.
That the world is always going to be falling apart and to thrive in it, I have to actively seek out the ways and things that make me happy.
It would help me keep my sanity.
I do that now.
And it has been incredible.
I find joy in little things I would never have thought twice about last year.
Little things like eating breakfast.
Seeing the many colours in the sky.
Seeing the smiles on the faces of my friends.
The laughter we share when we burst out with our favourite songs.
The eyes on the cute boy I wanna kiss.
The smoke that floats to the sky from our crappy makeshift bong.
The smells of flowers and tangerines that come from my candle.
The way my dog falls asleep in your arms if you pet his head long enough.
Just listening to them talk about funny things that have happened.
Just hearing the song on the radio from that time we drove for ages together.
Just witnessing them fall back into some of the memories that we have made.
I am not always okay, but I am getting there.
I have come to realize that my situation sucks, but if I didn't have the people in my life that I do.
It would be a lot worse
Sunday, January 20, 2019
The Truth
for a while now I've wondered if anyone would read this blog. I've debated whether or not I cared or not or if I actually wanted anyone to read it. Today I hope no one does, at least for not a while so I can write enough to cover this specific post.
The truth is that I can't hold it in. Is this a secret that is supposed to bring to the grave? I don't know and after I post this, it won't be anymore. It was a dark place for me, I couldn't stop thinking about what I knew and how I wish I never found out. even when it sought help I've filtered the story, made it easier to swallow for other people, hoping and praying they would never go through the trauma I went through.
I've stalled for too long. I need to say it... or in this case, type it I guess.
I recently took a vacation to Punta Cana with my family. It was a well-needed break for me from all the stress of school, little did I know, I would come back wishing for that stress to be the only stress I felt.
For most of the trip, till the last night, I shared a room with my older cousin, we spent most of the trip together, enjoying each other's company and the distance from our parents. The third day is when I started feeling the pit in my stomach. My mom found me at breakfast and told me that my dad had come back to their room at 5AM, drunk off his ass, escorted by a security guard. The information was bare but essentially he had gotten into a fight for some reason and had been kicked out of the club. Although I was angry I was used to my dad's alcoholism, my last post will inform you on that, it was easier than usual to forget about that whole incident since I only caught glimpses of my dad while we were on the trip.
I, honestly, almost forgot it happened until the last day. My cousin and her family went home one day earlier because they couldn't get that seventh day of work. It sucked losing my travel buddy but we were leaving the next day so I only had to deal with my parents for a couple hours and few naps on the beach and the trashy cable movies in our hotel room would take care of that.
Or so I thought.
The morning after my cousin got on her bus to the airport my mom dragged me to the beach. While swimming she told me she wanted a divorce. I was a little shocked, but divorce wasn't something I hadn't heard before. My parents had tossed it around a couple times when they fought but neither of them had ever followed through. It was normally something they said in the heat of the moment and while time went on their anger usually subsided. My mom followed by saying she would talk to me more tonight that she had something to tell me. (After my cousins left, so did our shared hotel room, in turn, I moved into my mom's room and my dad moved into a room with another uncle that had traveled with us).
THIS IS THE HARD PART:
My mom told me that while she and my aunt had been lounging on the beach a man came up to them and told them the reason that my dad had gotten into a fight. Apparently while in the disco, my dad had groped several women, eventually the man's wife had yelled at my dad causing enough attention to get people to throw him out. My dad then wandered all the way to the beach where he stripped naked and decided to jerk off in front of some families. That's where he got hit the most by the fathers of those young kids.
After my mom told me that, I felt nauseous, tears slipped from my eyes, but there was more;
My mom then told me a story. When I was young, around 10 years old, the police came to our house to take my father to the station. I was asleep when it happened apparently and my parents + relatives were very good at keeping it a secret. My mom didn't know what was happening, but my dad said it was a small thing and went with the officer. My mom told me that my dad had gone to a work party the night before so she naturally assumed a fight had occurred or a public disturbance, so she prayed that night and tried to go to sleep. She lied to me the next morning saying my dad went to work and rushed my innocence out the door to school. She then called her sister and my dad's sister, to tell them my dad had been taken by the police, both their husbands had gone to work so my mom went by herself to the courts to post bail. When she got there the clerk asked my mom if she knew what my dad had done. She replied no, still confused about the entire situation. The clerk told my mom that at the work party my dad had gone to the night before, he and a co-worker of his had raped the girlfriend of the host. raped. that's when I threw up. She posted a bail of $75,000 and got my dad out. A couple of days later my parents faked a family dinner and sent me and my cousins upstairs to play while the adults stayed downstairs to intervene. My dad promised to never drink again and that was that.
After she told me that I started crying and I couldn't stop, but she wasn't done.
The last story my mom told me, took place a year and a half after the rape. My aunt (mom's sister) had invited us for dinner. My dad had begun drinking again. That night it was wine. My aunt had asked my dad and uncle to drink in the mudroom so that us kids wouldn't see. My uncle had a couple of glasses but my dad was chugging. A little while into the evening my aunt whispered to my mom that my dad was looking at her kinda funny and she was a little weirded out. Then once as he was coming out of the mudroom, he slapped my aunt's ass as he made his way to the living room. My aunt felt all types of violated, she had considered my dad a loving older brother, but at that moment that all fell away. I didn't know it then, but that situation is the reason why I barely saw my cousins for a year.
That's it.
I still can't grasp it to the fullest extent. How my dad had become what he was after having a daughter. A daughter like me, specifically. He has sat there on the couch with me while I called for the heads of rapists. He dropped me off downtown for the women's march.
His actions are inexcusable and if anyone did come for him because of them, I would not stand in their way. Father or not, any women who have been violated in such horrific ways deserve justice.
I can't look at him anymore, let him hug me or even have a conversation with him. All the lines have blurred and I can't separate the man that raised me from the rapists that lied within. I am no competition to the women he has assaulted but he ruined my life to. I have to live with the fact that my dad is a monster.
This knowledge shattered my existence, everything I ever knew felt like the ground under me was gone. For a while, I forgot how to breathe, I couldn't even look at people anymore. There have been so many people who have met my dad, who think he is one of the coolest dads they know. What would they think if the father of a hardcore feminist was a rapist?
Its been a couple of weeks since everything went down. My mom dropped her divorce threats and substituted them for counseling. My aunts and uncles know. My mom told my aunt to tell my cousins, I don't know if she did though. I don't know who to talk to about this. Who will listen to me without judging me?
I'm not fine with brushing it under the rug.
Everyone else seems to be though.
The truth is that I can't hold it in. Is this a secret that is supposed to bring to the grave? I don't know and after I post this, it won't be anymore. It was a dark place for me, I couldn't stop thinking about what I knew and how I wish I never found out. even when it sought help I've filtered the story, made it easier to swallow for other people, hoping and praying they would never go through the trauma I went through.
I've stalled for too long. I need to say it... or in this case, type it I guess.
I recently took a vacation to Punta Cana with my family. It was a well-needed break for me from all the stress of school, little did I know, I would come back wishing for that stress to be the only stress I felt.
For most of the trip, till the last night, I shared a room with my older cousin, we spent most of the trip together, enjoying each other's company and the distance from our parents. The third day is when I started feeling the pit in my stomach. My mom found me at breakfast and told me that my dad had come back to their room at 5AM, drunk off his ass, escorted by a security guard. The information was bare but essentially he had gotten into a fight for some reason and had been kicked out of the club. Although I was angry I was used to my dad's alcoholism, my last post will inform you on that, it was easier than usual to forget about that whole incident since I only caught glimpses of my dad while we were on the trip.
I, honestly, almost forgot it happened until the last day. My cousin and her family went home one day earlier because they couldn't get that seventh day of work. It sucked losing my travel buddy but we were leaving the next day so I only had to deal with my parents for a couple hours and few naps on the beach and the trashy cable movies in our hotel room would take care of that.
Or so I thought.
The morning after my cousin got on her bus to the airport my mom dragged me to the beach. While swimming she told me she wanted a divorce. I was a little shocked, but divorce wasn't something I hadn't heard before. My parents had tossed it around a couple times when they fought but neither of them had ever followed through. It was normally something they said in the heat of the moment and while time went on their anger usually subsided. My mom followed by saying she would talk to me more tonight that she had something to tell me. (After my cousins left, so did our shared hotel room, in turn, I moved into my mom's room and my dad moved into a room with another uncle that had traveled with us).
THIS IS THE HARD PART:
My mom told me that while she and my aunt had been lounging on the beach a man came up to them and told them the reason that my dad had gotten into a fight. Apparently while in the disco, my dad had groped several women, eventually the man's wife had yelled at my dad causing enough attention to get people to throw him out. My dad then wandered all the way to the beach where he stripped naked and decided to jerk off in front of some families. That's where he got hit the most by the fathers of those young kids.
After my mom told me that, I felt nauseous, tears slipped from my eyes, but there was more;
My mom then told me a story. When I was young, around 10 years old, the police came to our house to take my father to the station. I was asleep when it happened apparently and my parents + relatives were very good at keeping it a secret. My mom didn't know what was happening, but my dad said it was a small thing and went with the officer. My mom told me that my dad had gone to a work party the night before so she naturally assumed a fight had occurred or a public disturbance, so she prayed that night and tried to go to sleep. She lied to me the next morning saying my dad went to work and rushed my innocence out the door to school. She then called her sister and my dad's sister, to tell them my dad had been taken by the police, both their husbands had gone to work so my mom went by herself to the courts to post bail. When she got there the clerk asked my mom if she knew what my dad had done. She replied no, still confused about the entire situation. The clerk told my mom that at the work party my dad had gone to the night before, he and a co-worker of his had raped the girlfriend of the host. raped. that's when I threw up. She posted a bail of $75,000 and got my dad out. A couple of days later my parents faked a family dinner and sent me and my cousins upstairs to play while the adults stayed downstairs to intervene. My dad promised to never drink again and that was that.
After she told me that I started crying and I couldn't stop, but she wasn't done.
The last story my mom told me, took place a year and a half after the rape. My aunt (mom's sister) had invited us for dinner. My dad had begun drinking again. That night it was wine. My aunt had asked my dad and uncle to drink in the mudroom so that us kids wouldn't see. My uncle had a couple of glasses but my dad was chugging. A little while into the evening my aunt whispered to my mom that my dad was looking at her kinda funny and she was a little weirded out. Then once as he was coming out of the mudroom, he slapped my aunt's ass as he made his way to the living room. My aunt felt all types of violated, she had considered my dad a loving older brother, but at that moment that all fell away. I didn't know it then, but that situation is the reason why I barely saw my cousins for a year.
That's it.
I still can't grasp it to the fullest extent. How my dad had become what he was after having a daughter. A daughter like me, specifically. He has sat there on the couch with me while I called for the heads of rapists. He dropped me off downtown for the women's march.
His actions are inexcusable and if anyone did come for him because of them, I would not stand in their way. Father or not, any women who have been violated in such horrific ways deserve justice.
I can't look at him anymore, let him hug me or even have a conversation with him. All the lines have blurred and I can't separate the man that raised me from the rapists that lied within. I am no competition to the women he has assaulted but he ruined my life to. I have to live with the fact that my dad is a monster.
This knowledge shattered my existence, everything I ever knew felt like the ground under me was gone. For a while, I forgot how to breathe, I couldn't even look at people anymore. There have been so many people who have met my dad, who think he is one of the coolest dads they know. What would they think if the father of a hardcore feminist was a rapist?
Its been a couple of weeks since everything went down. My mom dropped her divorce threats and substituted them for counseling. My aunts and uncles know. My mom told my aunt to tell my cousins, I don't know if she did though. I don't know who to talk to about this. Who will listen to me without judging me?
I'm not fine with brushing it under the rug.
Everyone else seems to be though.
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