I am at the point in my life now
where for the last several months, I have felt safe enough to process the past. Although I was sexually abused when I was a
child, I didn’t tell my family then or as an adult. I kept quiet because I was
threatened with hell and the devil when I was a kid. I was so traumatized, I
pushed most of the memories away and didn’t think about them for over 30 years. Now that I haven't been a Christian for over a year, I've lost my fear of hell and devil, and I finally feel unthreatened and able to process the abuse.
The sexual abuse was inappropriate, but at this point in time, I am actually most angry at the religious
bullying that kept me from not telling. It’s one thing to commit incest with
your child, as a Christian man. It’s quite another to cover it up by scaring an
innocent child with threats that she’s going to be tormented by demons and sent
to hell.
When I was five, my mom walked in
and found out what my dad was doing to me and my baby sister at the time. I didn’t know what my father was doing at the
time was “wrong.” I just thought he was being friendly. It was my mom’s
extreme, livid reaction when she found out, in addition to her encouraging me
to shut down and never talk about it again, that clued me in that what was
going on was horrible.
After my mom found out, my dad asked
me to come upstairs to his and my mom’s bedroom. He told me that on this
particular day, we were just going to talk. He acted depressed. He sat on the
edge of the bed and said that what we were doing was wrong. He opened up Paul
Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress” and showed me a picture of a grotesque, slightly
pink devil with a leer on his face and the flames of hell behind him. I was
extremely terrified of this image, and he knew it. He had showed it to me
before. Even just flashing the page open quickly and getting a tiny glimpse of
that image made me break out in a cold sweat.
He told me that if he kept
playing the special games with me, both he and I would go to hell. He told me
he was miserable because he didn’t know how to stop.
Then he told me he was between a rock
and a hard place. He said that God was angry at him, and what he did with me
was sin. He said that if he kept doing it, he would go to hell and I would too.
He said he already was at the point where he feared he would go to jail. He
told me he had taken it too far with me.
He told me that I could help him
out, and that he was depending on me. He asked me if I wanted to help him and I
said yes. He warned me that it wouldn’t be easy for me. But he said it was the
only choice he had.
Then he told me we would both have to
work hard. He said he would study his Bible and some thick books with brown
covers that he showed me which were apparently helping him. But he said I
needed to do my part too.
He said he couldn’t trust
himself to be alone around me anymore, because if he was around me, he would do
something he wasn’t supposed to do. He said he would sin if he was around me. He
said that sin lurks in everyone, and I brought out the sin in him when he
looked at me and was around me.
Then he said that he didn’t plan on
ever asking me up to the bedroom again, but if he slipped up and did, he wanted
me to tell him “NO!” in an angry voice. He said it was extremely important that
I said “NO” and meant it.
He made me practice.
He had me go outside the bedroom
door. He had me knock. He opened the door and pretended to be extremely angry
and mad, and told me to go away and never come back.
Then he made me practice this with him
many times over. He kept pretending to be mad and angry. I remember laughing,
because it seemed funny.
He said he was worried that I wasn’t taking it seriously enough, and
that I wasn’t being angry or loud enough. He wanted to hear how mad I could
get, and how loud I could say “NO!” I didn’t understand at all.
Then he said he would never be alone
in this bedroom with me ever again. I asked him if I could come in the bedroom
to watch movies with the other kids. He said yes, but he didn’t want me to be
the first one to come in. He said to wait until the other kids came in first.
He told me that there were other
places that he wasn’t supposed to be alone with him at. He said there were safe
places and not safe places to be around him alone. He started listing them.
I was confused about what places
I wasn’t supposed to be alone with him at. The kitchen? He said it was OK to be
alone with him there. The living room? Yes. My brothers and sisters’ bedroom?
Maybe. My bedroom? No and maybe. It depends, he said. I asked what it depended
on. He said it depended on if there were the other people close by or not. I
asked him if I was allowed to be in the shop alone with him. He thought about
it for a while, and said “maybe. It depends. It might not be safe.” Then he
said that no, it probably wasn’t safe to go in the shop alone with him, unless
the door was kept open. But then he said that probably that wasn’t safe, so I
shouldn’t go in the shop alone with him. I kept getting confused. I listed all
the places I could think of that I went to and continued to ask him if I was
allowed to be alone with him or not. The yard (yes), the bathroom (no), the
woods (no), the road (yes),the living room (yes), the kitchen (yes), the attic
(no), the bedroom (no), the basement (no), the garage (maybe), the shop
(maybe). I told him I was confused because some places he said were ok, like
the kitchen, and some places were not ok. I told him I couldn’t remember which
ones were ok or not. So he said that he would make it easy for me and he told
me that for sure that the bedroom was one place where I was not supposed to be
alone with him in.
He said that I reminded him of
sin. He said from here on out, he would hate himself every time he looked at
me. He said it wasn’t my fault. But he said that from then on, he would have to
hate me too, because if he didn’t hate me, he would do sinful things to me that
he shouldn’t. He also said that it would
help him if he hated me, because every time he looked at me, he would feel hate
instead of desire. He said he would see sin every time he looked at me, and he
would hate that sin and would hate me. He said this was the only way he could
stop himself.
Then he asked me if I was mad at him.
I said I wasn’t. He asked me if I was mad at him for sinning and making me sin.
I said I didn’t think he sinned, and I didn’t think I sinned. He asked me if I
was scared of him. I said I wasn’t. At that point, I felt safe with him. I had
always felt safe and relaxed around him during the sexual games and while we
were having this talk.
He told me we couldn’t be friends
anymore. He said he wanted me to be angry at him. He said it was OK if I got so
mad at him, that I never talked to him again. He said he wanted me to hate what
we did. He told me I should hate the things I did with him, and hate him for
doing them. He said he wanted me to hate him. He told me that it would make it
easier for him.
Then he said that it would be easier
if I was afraid of him. He said he wanted me to be afraid of him, just like I
was afraid of the devil. I thought that was funny. Then he tried to show me the
devil picture and I didn’t want to see it because it was horrible and scary.
He told me he was worried
because I didn’t seem to hate him and wasn’t angry enough. He worried that I
thought it was just a fun game. He said he was worried that I wasn’t angry
enough or strong enough to say “NO.” He told me he was depending on me to pull
my weight and help him resist temptation. He told me this was very serious and
he reminded me again about jail and hell. He said that he was worried that I
wasn’t taking this seriously enough. He told me that we needed to practice me
making an angry face and saying “NO! STOP!” to him. So he had me yell at him
while sitting side by side on the bed. He kept making me yell “NO!” with an
angry face. It was exhausting.
Then he said our talk was
over, and that I would never be alone with him again in that room. Then he told
me to go out and he shut the door.
After that, my memories closed
up. From age 5 to this present time, I didn’t remember most of the sexual abuse or most of the
“devil talk.” The parts of the devil talk I did remember was that it wasn’t
safe to be alone around my father, and if I ever was, something terrible and
horrible involving the devil and hell was going to happen to me. I was
terrified of this.
After the “devil talk,” my father
began his systematic verbal, physical, emotional and psychological abuse
towards me. He hadn’t been this way before the talk. My other siblings
experienced his verbal abuse and his fits of rage. But he didn’t have it in for
them. He singled me out and let the others alone for the most part. I thought
it was a shame, because I followed his rules to a “T,” far more than my other
siblings did. I saw how they weren’t in his line of fire, and they were more or
less “accepted” and not as bullied. I tried harder to get his approval than the
others did by being a perfect Christian daughter and following his rules. Oddly
enough, the more I tried to conform to his rules, the angrier he got and the
worse he treated me.
I quickly learned from age 5
onwards to be terrified of this man who seemed to have changed overnight on
me, even though I didn’t know why. I started having anxiety attacks at age 5,
unable to breathe when I heard his loud footsteps thundering up the steps. I
didn’t know why I was afraid of him, though. I was living in a good, Christian
home and people commented all the time on how lovely a family we were, how
obedient and respectful we were, what great people my parents were.
I always thought it was just my
fault that I felt weird in my family, afraid, traumatized, the one who was
picked on. That that’s just the way it was. I was terrified of my father, terrified
of gong out in the world, terrified of unknown
situations, terrified of being around people, then terrified to leave my house
for years. Afraid, but I didn’t know why.
Now finally, I know why.
Now, finally, I have no fear of
hell or demons, no fear of my parents and their religious threats. I’m free.
And I’m ready to stand up to my
abuser and tell them that I know about it, and that what they did was horrible.
The last month or so, I’ve been
in the process of telling my parents. Let me tell you, it hasn’t been going so
well.
I started by writing a long email
listing details of how and when my dad sexually abused me. Before sending it to
my parents, I called my mom and said, “Hey, mom. So… I wanted to share
something with you.” I tried to be
diplomatic and smooth, gentle in tone, but firm. It didn’t work.
My mom flipped
out on me. She denied that my father would ever do that kind of thing to me.
She started screaming and crying hysterically like a trapped
animal. Like a little child stuck in a cage. It was almost embarrassing. My mom
is a calm person, balanced and emotionally even keeled. In the three decades I've
known her, I actually can’t remember her raising her voice in anger or any negative
emotion... until this phone call. I used to wonder how she could be human
and not raise her voice or yell, even once. I know it partially has to
do with the cult, because she isn't allowed by my father to
access and display emotions except for positive ones. True, she has a
naturally calm, sunny personality, but the cult sealed it up for her, and
she wears her cheerful face like a bright Christian banner. She also
has only cried two other times in her life in front of me, once when
her father passed away, and once when my aunt died. I
told my sisters about my mom's reaction on the phone when I told her about the
abuse, and they knew it was out of character. They told me
they feared she would have a heart attack and convinced me to wait a week
to send the email.
So I waited. Then I
sent the email. I waited two more weeks. Then I called my mom to see if he had
read it. I couldn't bring myself to ask my dad directly because I am terrified
of him and out of self-protection, stopped speaking to him when I was 16.
Additionally, he is anti-social and prefers not to speak to on the phone, even
with his own children. Plus, it would have triggered me too much to tell him on
the phone.
It turned out that my
mom read a sentence or two of the email but deleted it before my dad knew about
it. She told me bluntly that she refused
to read my email, and she refused to let him see it because it was “horrible”
and would “destroy him.”
To be honest, I am
still shocked that my mom knew how to get into his email. I’m also almost
impressed that she deleted it before he could read it. She is not computer
savvy, and I didn't think she had the nerve to do anything this shady. She is the type of Christian who crosses her t's and dots her i's
in every way, smiling and being pleasant in actually (what I thought) was a
genuine way. My mom was the kind and "safe" person in the house
when I was growing up. I guess I didn't know how monstrous she had become
in the past decade or so being alone with my father after we all moved out
and her world was only his.
Over the phone, I
told my mom I would send a printed out version of the truth. She said
vehemently that she would rip it up and never let him see it. I told her I
would send it by registered mail so he would have to sign for it. She said she
would sign his name for the package, then destroy it.
So over the next two
weeks, I sent an email to my dad at various times of the day, especially in the
evening when I knew he was home. He doesn’t have a smart phone to check email
during the day. To be on the safe side, I sent the email from several different
email addresses, as well as from my husband’s email address.
Finally, after I
still didn't get a reply back by email, I was fed up and decided I needed
to just call and ask to speak directly to my dad. I was shaking and having a
panic attack. But I was so angry. I called their house. The phone rang three
times and they didn’t pick up. The fourth time I got their voicemail and I
left a message. I angrily demanded an explanation for why mom was deleting my
emails.
And what do you know.
My dad picked up the phone and wanted to know what emails I was talking about.
It was so weird, surreal actually to have a give and take conversation with
him. But I was angry. I told him mom had been deleting my emails to him, and
that I knew he sexually abused me when I was little.
Then he got defensive
and started quoting Bible verses. He told me that I was full of demons, and
that an evil spirit in me was making me say untrue things about him. He started
to cast the evil spirit out of me over the phone. “Satan, I command you in the
name of Jesus to come out of AJ, NOW.” I interrupted that business right away
and told him I didn’t have any demons in me so he didn’t need to be doing any
of that casting out on me. I started to relate to him the various memories I
had of him sexually abusing me. Each time I paused, he told me I was
delusional. That I wasn’t thinking straight. That I was out of my mind. That
I was being cantankerous. That I was sowing discord among the brethren. That
God was going to destroy me if I didn't take back what I said.
Then my mom cut in and
screamed at me that I was an embarrassment. That she was ashamed of me, and
that I was a horrible daughter. She said she TOLD me not to send another email
to my father. She told me I had besmirched the family name in the past and that
she had never told me how awful I was to do so, but that she was angry at me
now and was ready to let it rip, ready to tell me all the horrible things I had
done in the past that she disapproved of. Apparently, I had dated a
non-Christian man and had been doing worldly, non-Christian things and word got
around in her family and she was shamed by them for my actions. My mom told me
how dare I, after they sent me to Christian school. How dare I publicly date a
non-Christian and ruin my reputation and theirs. (Seriously. She was being
serious.)
She told me that I
deserved to have my husband leave me, and she hoped I would have nowhere to go.
She told me she would never answer the phone again if I called, unless I got
down on my knees and repented for lying about my father.
Then she followed
this up with a juicy email that reads as follows:
The title of the
email was “sick, sick.”
“AJ, this is Mom, I can’t
begin to describe how I feel. Your e-mail was so sickening, untrue and
perverted, it was so bad I couldn’t even read most of it, mainly because none
of it is true, and sounds like it came from the pit of hell! I know for a fact
that these things are not true, you believe what you want, but you will never
get better physically or spiritually. Oh by the way none of your siblings believe
your father did anything and I think there is something really wrong
with you! I’m asking God to heal your mind, I still love you, but with this
attitude towards your father, don’t call or e-mail till you can think clearly!
Praying for you, Mom. Your e-mail is blocked, and won’t get through, I
won’t answer the phone if you continue to spew out all this hatred!"
This email was
particularly interesting, as my mom last month had told me that she didn't
believe that God was punishing me and keeping me sick because of some sin I was
committing. She said she didn't think God was like that. We were talking about
this because I told her that her son in law was preaching in our family that
this was the case with Thalia and me. But my mom said he was full of it, and
she didn't believe like this. Apparently, my mom is singing a new tune now that
I dared to speak up against her beloved Patriarch.
Seriously. This is
what happens in my family if someone dares to speak up and say something
against the Patriarch. My mom protects him like he's the Pope, like he can do
no wrong. She was freaking out because I got past her and went straight to the
Patriarch without her permission.
After this, my dad
went and did damage control with my siblings. He called each one and told them
that I was spreading lies about him that he sexually abused me. He told my
siblings to not listen to me, as he felt I was mentally imbalanced, delusional,
and demon possessed. He also told them that I was spreading stories because I
was bitter towards him because I didn’t like him. Then he called me the next day and told me
that none of my siblings believed me. He told me that when Louisa visited my
house for Christmas that I had told her that I was going to hell and
didn't care. I told my dad that wasn't true. I said that I told her I didn't
believe in hell, and that it was my right to believe as I saw fit, and that I
shouldn't be penalized for it.
He told me he knew I
was possessed by demons because I told mom in the past that there was a friendly
ghost in Maggie’s laundry room making the door pop open sometimes. He told me
that Louisa said that when she visited and Sabrina was singing a song from
Vacation Bible School, that I told Sabrina to stop singing. Again, untrue.
Sabrina was singing,
“I wanna be a sheep for Jesus, ‘cause sheep are meek.” and when she was done, I
sang, “I don’t wanna be a sheep, cause I was wanna be a goat! I wanna have a
backbone and stand up for what I believe!” Then I asked Sabrina if she knew any
non-church songs. And she did, and she sang them.
But apparently, I was
wrong to say that and sing that IN MY OWN HOME. In my own home that I helped
purchase, living with my husband as adults. Both Kyle and I
have decided as adults that we are not Christians. But according to
my family, I don’t have a right to voice anything opposite of the Christian way
even in my own home, or it will be used as ammunition against me and will be
talked about in the family behind my back.
This is why I do
not want to invite Louisa and her family over anymore. I was planning on
inviting her and her kids over, as well as my brother Matt and his three kids,
and my cousin and her daughter. I was planning on having a picnic here with all
of us catching up.
But it may not be
safe to even have my siblings visit. If they are reporting back even the
smallest of Christian infractions to the home base as Louisa did, then I don’t
want them in my home. It is too oppressive for me to have to hold my tongue in
my own home and not speak my mind about my beliefs. What, even my own home
isn't safe now? What, they have control of me even in my own home when I'm
married and living my adult life? I don't think so.
God. Why do I have to
keep cutting people out of my life? The further this thing goes, the more I see
the true colors of my family. Not just my parents. But my siblings too.
I had a conversation
with my younger sister Christy last month, and she shared with me two
incidences of things my dad did to her when she was a child that were sexually inappropriate.
I knew what she was talking about, because I had been there as a child in the
room when these things happened. But when my dad was doing damage control and
called Christy, she didn’t confront him.
Maybe Christy isn’t
ready to talk to him about it. I hope she didn’t stay quiet on the phone with
him because he intimidated her. He told her I was full of demons and was mentally
unbalanced, so it didn’t set that great of a climate for her to want to say, “Look
Dad. You did it to me too, and you know it.”
I am disgusted with
the fear of demons that my father uses to keep his children quiet and in line.
I am also disgusted
because in my parents' religious cult, adult children aren't allowed
to grow up. They are still subject to parental Christian rules long after most
normal Christian parents have relaxed their grip on their kids. It's like I'm
back in grade school, not having the freedom to voice my own spiritual or
non-spiritual beliefs. Even in adulthood, I can't escape their religious
scrutiny and control.
Speaking of control,
my mom is no longer "allowed" to visit me or Thalia because we are
too un-Christian, according to my dad. As if my mom needs that decree. She told
me she doesn’t ever want to see or speak to me again until I confess for
telling a lie about my dad.
It hurts.
I didn't fight back when my mom was screeching at me. I wasn't ready
or prepared for her attack. I didn't expect her to be so riled up. I won't lie. I
was shaking afterwards. My parents are making me out to be this horrible,
delusional, sexually sick person. In their mind, a good Christian daughter
would never have been sexually abused by her Christian father in the first
place, and even if she thought she was, she would realize it was a lie from
Satan and she would forget about it and go along cheerily in the Christian
walk, smiling and pretending like everything was OK.
That’s how it is in
my family. If you go against their Christian way, they will reject you, warn
other family members to stay away from you, and withhold communication and
support from you until you confess. As long as they deem you are out of the
will of God, you are fair game. They will curse you, your health, your
finances, your mental state, your relationships, your career. It happened to
Thalia before it happened to me, so I’m not the only one. It also happened to
my Aunt S, who left the church and was called irresponsible, out of her mind
and demon possessed for voicing her non-Christian opinion. She was going
through a tough time in her life and the last person she talked to was my dad.
He told her she needed to repent so her life situation could change from the
miserable place she was in, and that she needed to get the demons exorcised out
of her. He was the last person she spoke to. She committed suicide that night.
She ran her car off the road at a high speed into a tree. My parents are
treating Thalia and me now the same way they treated Aunt S.
My family is twisted.
They use Christianity as a weapon to keep us silent. Even if my
family thinks you are in God’s will, even then you are still judged and talked
about behind your back. They judged me up one side and down the other even when
I was a church goer for decades and was living a Godly life. When I needed help
from them while I was a Christian, they were not there for me, because of the
sins they remembered I had done in my past. You can’t win in my family.
However, I will not
let myself back down to them. I think that the best way for me to recover from
the PTSD induced by my family is to keep standing up for myself. Even if
they are swarming like a nest of bees now talking about me and warning each
other to stay away from me. Even though I am now quite alone in the family
department. Except for Thalia, who has always been there for me.
Well, I will show
them. I am getting healthier and stronger every day. I am getting my power back
and they can’t scare me in the name of God anymore. I am strong. I am brave. I
don’t need to swallow my truth. I can stand up for myself. I don’t deserve
their shaming. I don’t deserve their wrath. I don’t need to rely on my
toxic, unsupportive family in order to survive. Other people who I don’t
know yet love me and will be there to help me if I need it. But I’m getting
better, and I am a survivor, and I am strong. I will show them all!
I will get my health
and career back, and I’ll be more than well enough to drive again. I'll
buy my own car. And I’ll hop in my car and drive off, away from this
mess. I’ll drive so far, and they will never hear from me again. I'll go
someplace safe and start over again.
Right now,
I just want to be around people who are kind and compassionate, who
don't scream or yell. I need to be around people who feel safe. I will practice
making a bubble around myself, detaching from the external world and going
deep, grounding myself. I can do this. I'm going to start EMDR trauma release
therapy in the next few weeks. I can do this. I'm brave. I can make it through
this.
.jpg)
