Story #31

I was always that girl who was so put together. Despite the way my father abused me for eighteen years until I finally moved away, I tried to hide every aspect of my home life from everyone I knew because I was afraid to face my demons. I’ve always been the person to put everyone else before myself, so I honestly didn’t know how to speak up for myself when my father abused me.
It mostly started when I was in elementary school. I was slightly overweight compared to the other kids in my class, and if that wasn’t enough to deal with my father made sure I was aware of it. He asked me once what I wanted to be when I grew up knowing that I’d tell him I wanted to be a famous singer. He proceeded to tell me that I could never be a singer because I was too fat to sing and dance and perform in front of anyone. For the first time in my life, I was disgusted by my own appearance. My father controled every aspect of my life. Whenever I wanted to wear anything that was fashionable or cute he would refuse to buy it for me because it made me look “huge”. By the time I was in fifth grade he decided that I needed to excercise regularly. I loathed excercise to begin with because of my asthma, but when it was forced on me it seemed like torture. My “excercise program” made me hate myself even more. I wasn’t pretty and I wasn’t good at excercising.
It got worse when I began middle school. The negative comments continued, only now they were usually accompanied with “what boy is ever going to like you?” It was bad enough that many of my close friends were getting their first boyfriends, and I wasn’t getting any action, but the constant reminder drove me into depression. All I wanted was to be thin and pretty and just find a boy who wanted to hold my hand in the hallways.
Flash forward to my senior year of high school. It was a school morning and my dad was in a terrible mood. By then, I had figured out how to push all of the right buttons to ruin his day the way he ruined my childhood and I had grown into a strong, beautiful confident woman. It was just another day of fighting in my household. My dad would tell me how I had no future and needed to come up with some sort of plan if I ever wanted to make it in life. I kept thinking to myself how I’d had a plan for the past four years that didn’t involve him, his money, or his criticism. Yes, I was an angsty teenager who naturally wanted to rebel against her parents, but more than anything I was just waiting to break out of his bubble and find sucess on my own terms. I knew that even if I was living in a cardboard box later in life, at least I would finally be free. All of these thoughts were running through my head as my dad continued to condemn my existence. That day was the climax of me and my father’s abusive relationship. Finally, my father told me that he just didn’t believe in me anymore. I had heard him say it a thousand times, but as he said it that morning it stuck a chord inside of me that seemed to ring for forever. I snapped back at him and finally unveiled MY plan to him. I don’t know what kind of reaction I expected him to give my idea, but I certainly never expected my own father to hit me. Twice. The side of my face stung as tears fell from my eyes. My father stormed downstairs and left the house. I was no longer afraid of my father. The moment he hit me I realized that I had won. I had struck a fear inside of him so that the only thing he knew to do was to resort to physically hurting me. I knew that nothing he said would ever harm me again. As victorious as I felt, I still had no idea what to do. My family wasn’t supposed to be this kind of family, the kind they make lifetime movies about. I had watched this kind of family self-destruct on Dr.Phil so many times. I needed time to think, so I decided that I would have to be late to school. I went online and searched for any help I could find. Part of me just wanted to call CPS and get the state involved, but I was scared to death. I had my plan, but this was an unexpected bump in the road. I found a therapist in the area that specialized in family counseling and called her. That night, I told my father that if he didn’t agree to go to counseling, I would call CPS and fight with everything I had for emancipation rights. My father knew he was in the wrong, so we went through the counseling process.
My family is still not perfect, but things are a lot better than they were. I dont know if me and my dad will ever see eye to eye, but at least now we have a mutual understanding of what is appropriate and what damages our relationship even further. My dad stole my confidence from me when I was young and it took me a very long time to be able to stand up to him and get help. Abuse isn’t always physical and emotional abuse, especially from family members, should not be taken lightly. If you’re the awkward kid who is told they aren’t good enough, just know that you are good enough and having confidence is very beautiful.

You are such a strong person for not only dealing with that for years, but MAKING it stop. That is such a hard thing to do. I know someone is going to read this and take after your footsteps. You literally amaze me, and I can tell you are going to have such a bright future.