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[nowitstimetoheal]

Dear Dad

Dear readers ~ first of all, I want to warn you that this letter discusses my actual childhood sexual assault, neglect, and describes a disturbing amount of hate and anger I had and the thoughts of homicide and my suicide attempt. This will not be for everyone. If these discussions trigger you, please know your feelings are valid. It’s alright to be triggered even though people want to weaponize that against you and make it seem like you’re overreacting. You are not overreacting. You’re hurt and are dealing with things that people can’t see or feel for themselves. Being triggered is your brain’s way of protecting you. I’m sorry you’re going through whatever you’re going through. I hope that if you choose to read this that it might be able to articulate your thoughts or helps you see things in a different light. I hope that you find peace. I hope you will know love. I hope you can heal. You are worth it. Your life is worth living. I know it’s easy for some schmuck to say that. It’s entirely different to mean it. I’ve been through my own hell and it took me a long time to accept that my life is worth living. I sincerely hope you can reach that same bliss. Because it really is so freeing to realize you matter.

October 6, 2022

7:17 PM - Surprise, AZ

Dear Dad,

It’s been a long time since we last spoke or saw each other, so I’m sure this is out of the blue and you’re wondering why I’m suddenly writing to you.

Maybe you’re interested. Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you think I’mw writing to ask forgiveness for what happened between us. The truth is that I don’t care one way or the other how you feel. I’m doing this for me, and me alone, so take it as you will.

Since the beginning of the lockdown, I’ve been watching a lot of tarot readings. Yes, I know mom wouldn’t be happy about it and you probably think my soul is going to hell because of that.

Save me a seat, I guess.

Anyway… these readers have told me over and over again that I have something from my past that I need to heal so that I can move on and be happy. It’s easy to say that love and abundance are coming into someone’s life. I could start up a YouTube channel and do just that so I can quit my job, but then I found a couple of readers who mentioned things I’ve never told anyone. Not my closest friends, not my fiancé, not a priest, religious leader, a therapist… not even my dog.

It’s taken me nearly three years to figure out what they were talking about, but then, a few readers mentioned that I could use my gift to help others heal.

It dawned on me immediately what it was that I needed to heal and so, here I am, using my gift of writing to make myself vulnerable so I can try and heal this pain so that I can have the life you robbed me of.

The first memory I have was of two men standing over mer, one holding my wrists in one hand, my waist in the other while the other man held my ankles up while he raped me.

Remember that, dad? You should. You were there too. You were watching all of it happen just feet away. But instead of being enraged to the point of murdering these men like other men have, you just stood there and watched.

Why?

What happened that would lead you to allowing your only daughter, your three year old child to be raped by two men?

Did you care about how this would affect me for the rest of my life? Did you think I would forget about it because of how young I was?

Did you ever look at me or at my mother and think of what happened?

Do you regret it? Do you wish you had done anything different to protect me?

Part of me doesn’t think you did. Know why? Because of how you looked at me until I left the family. Yes, I’ll admit it. I left the family. You didn’t actually disown me. You gave me two options: respect you (and that absolute cunt of a wife you moved into mom’s bed weeks after she died you bastard) or leave. I couldn’t respect you because you chose to believe her over me. You let her label all the food except the spaghetti for me and AJ to eat. You let her tell me to get a job if I wanted to eat while you told me I couldn’t have one. I couldn’t respect either of you for that so I left.

But anyway, I digress….

You looked at me like I was a piece of meat you could have. That’s why I hid in my room all the time. Remember that orange halter dress I had when I was in high school? I loved it so much. I felt so pretty in it and you had to go and take that away from me by ogling me.

Sure, it was going to happen. I wanted my boyfriend to ogle me. I wanted other cute guys at school to ogle me. That was fine because they were my age.

A girl should never be sexualized by her own god damn father.

You fucking disgusting dog.

I wanted to kill you and AJ when I was five. Did you know about that? I wonder if mom knew. I wonder if anyone knew that. I had plans on how I would do it. I was going to put bleach in your coffee. I didn’t do anything because I knew I would be caught. I was so angry, but I didn’t know why. 

I had forgotten what had happened. I just knew anger. I knew I was afraid of you. I knew I hated the way you looked at me. I hated being around you.

We all did though. 

Mom wanted to divorce you when I was five. She was talking to your mom about it once. We were at grandma’s house. AJ and I were standing in the front room, remember the one she used to put the Christmas tree in so we could see it from the street or see the neighbor guy who played Santa Claus? The room where we played Monopoly and checkers? That room.

Grandma told grandpa that mom wanted to divorce you. That was when mom came straight to me and told me to tell her if I ever didn’t like you.

I wanted to say how much I hated you, but I didn’t. I was scared. 

It wasn’t fair of her to put it on me, but I think about it sometimes. Would she still be here if I had spoken up? If I had been braver, would she have gotten cancer? Would we be happier? Would we be normal? 

Do you realize the pain you’ve caused? Do you care? Do you wonder what would have happened if you and mom had divorced? Did you have to be in control? Did you threaten to take AJ and I if she pursued it?

She was so sad, but had so much to give. Do you realize that? She could talk to anyone like she’d known them forever. She was the most beautiful woman in the world to me and I think you put her in a glass container like a firefly because you didn’t want to give her up. You stifled her, you stifled me, you stifled AJ. You ruined three lives because of how fucking selfish you were.

I didn’t understand why I was so angry all the time. I didn’t understand why AJ got all the attention no matter how hard I tried. You took so much happiness, so much joy, so much life.

I wanted my uncles to do terrible things to me. I wanted to crush weak men. The rage I had was hard to control. 

It wasn’t until a few years ago, just before the pandemic, that I remembered what had happened. I watched a documentary about a girl who admitted to having the same kinds of thoughts I did. It was terrifying and confusing. Everything snapped back into my mind like my brain had tried to hide this terrible memory away with duct tape, but the tape failed and memories flooded back to me.

I realized this is why I lashed out so much when I was a kid. Why I had a bad relationship with food. Why I couldn’t form a decent relationship with anyone. I had to have control over absolutely everything because I was the only one who could keep me safe. Do you understand that? As a *child* I had to control things because I didn’t think anyone would protect me.

I acted out as a way to cry out for help. I didn’t know the words to use. I didn’t understand what had happened so I did what I could to get someone, ANYONE, to help me. But no one listened.

I could have jumped up on top of a table in a crowded room and screamed until my vocal cords snapped and no one would care.

It would just be “Shut up Zoë. AJ’s the only one that matters. Not you. No one cares that you were raped and that you were only three. No one cares. You don’t matter you stupid, pathetic, useless, ugly little cretin!”

Why didn’t I matter to anyone? Why did no one love me enough to protect me? I was a baby. I was so small. Why did you hate me? Why did you do this to me? WHY ME?!?! I wanted to die. I took a handful of pills the night after mom died. I was so scared of what you were going to do to me.

What did you do that led up to you letting your coworkers rape me? Oh yeah, I remember them wearing their camos. 

The weird thing is, I’m not angry with them. I will never have justice for what happened. Not from them, not from you. I’ve struggled thinking a higher power cares about me. It’s taken me a long time to figure out what I believe in religiously and spiritually, but I’m making progress. I’m learning to be grateful for all the bad that’s come into my life and I’m trying to look at things that go wrong in my life and try to understand why it’s happened. 

I’m going to have to learn how to clearly and efficiently communicate my emotions, especially when I’m upset, to my partners. I’m going to have to learn that most people aren’t going to flip out on me when I’m angry about something and trust they’ll listen to me and do what they can to rectify the situation. Do you understand that because of something you let happen to me when I was a child has made me so skittish and pathetic that I can’t ask my partner to turn down his music a little because I am terrified he’ll lash out at me? He has a terrible temper - like you -- fuck he’s so much like you - but it’s not fair to think he’ll get upset about something simple like a volume adjustment. It’s not like I’m asking him for $200.

I have a lot of work to do to become normal again. It’s going to take so much trust in other people and I am scared I’m going to fail and be alone for the rest of my life.

Step one involves getting back out on my own. I’m going to have to leave my current fiancé because I realize he’s not good for me. He just doesn’t care about me. I think he has a lot of personal work to do for himself too. I hope that me leaving will help him see that and it’ll be the catalyst to him becoming his best self.

Step two is to make myself a priority. Eat better, exercise, pay off debt, save money, buy a car, make close friends I can have fun with and trust, start my own business, take a cooking class or two, and dare to be able to dream of having enough to save up for retirement. 

All of this pain over a stupid decision you made when I was three.

I hope you can taste your regret.

I will never have justice and fuck you for that.

But what more can I do? What more can I say? I could keep on hating you and pulling those memories back up. What good does that do for me? It doesn’t. It just keeps hurting me and I’m so sick of being tired and sad. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of not having love in my life. I’m tired of not having friends. 

I heard you remarried and are actually happy now. That’s good. I heard AJ got married and had a baby. I’ll never know my nephew or sister in law because I can’t be around you and you’ve all poisoned AJ against me.

I hear you became a born again Christian. 

I pray God will deal with you on my behalf. You’ll get yours in ways I can never carry out.

I’m still angry, I’m still hurt (I’m crying hard right now but this has been cathartic to write). Can you be angry and still forgive? I have to let this go. I have to. I’ll never heal if I don’t and I want so much to heal. It won’t happen overnight, I know that, but in time it will. I just have to take this first step.

I hope one day I find a friend who is close enough to me to be like a sister and her dad is a good man who loves his daughter unconditionally and would do anything to protect her. I hope I can look at their relationship and pretend that was us. Would that be a Band-Aid though?

I was so proud of you being in the military. For a long time. I remember when you went off to Desert Storm and how grandma hung a picture the news station took of me when you were coming back. I had a big floppy hat on and a little American flag. I think I had on a pink and white striped shirt and my hair was short.

You know… I didn’t know you worked with the Special Olympics. That’s really commendable and admirable and I’m proud of you for that. That was really touching to learn.

I’m sorry to hear you have cancer now and are having problems paying for monthly bills. Fuck cancer. It sounds like your prognosis is good and I’m glad to hear of that. Just because I’m angry with you doesn’t mean I wish the worst on you. I’m not you. 

I have to move on from all this. I have to let this go. I have to heal. I have to love myself and learn how to live. I have to be both a mother and a father to myself. I have to protect and care for my inner child the way you and mom should have. I know I treated mom like she was perfect after she died, but I was a kid when she left us. What more could you expect? Did you know she said she wanted to call me Sai? I wish I had been brave enough to ask her why. I presumed she was talking about Sais. I didn’t understand where that came from because I thought our conversation had been pleasant. I didn’t know what I had said to make her say that. I just walked away because I was scared to ask. I wish I knew what she meant.

Anyway, I have a lot to do, so - I forgive you. Completely. I hope you know peace in your golden years. I hope one morning, you wake up early and go for a walk. I hope that morning, it’s misty and the sky looks like it’s made of velvet until the golden orange sun rises and bathes everything in light. I hope that morning is quiet and cool. I hope when that morning happens, you think of me. 

Take care daddy.

 - Zoë