This was originally posted on myspace and trust me, it caused quite a stir.
Once again....ADULT WARNING....STRONG LANGUAGE and SEX************************************************************
Ok, I know the shit-storm this is gonna bring down on me. I'm gonna get letters from perverts, called names, prayed at, and worse yet...sympathy. But like I said in an earlier blog, it's just words on a screen. But maybe if I talk about this others will too, and it will help them. Trust me, there's lots of others..more than you can imagine. And we all think it's our fault and are ashamed..or afraid of what a lot of people will say to/about us. Fuck that, I'm not ashamed and I don't give a rats ass what anyone says. Lots of adults like to fuck children, often their own children. So I'm gonna write about this and repost it alot. And if you even think to ask me if I got any pleasure out of getting fucked by my father, you're as big a sicko as he is...seek help u asshole. When I was eleven years old I pretty much knew I was gay. I come from a strict Christian family and my Dad is a cold controlling man. My Mom is cold and docile. So I went to my priest and told him and he told me to tell my parents. He said it would be ok (he was an idiot. I still go to confession but usually the priest just reads me my Miranda rights and sends me home). He said I MUST tell my parents before I went any further down that road.This was before we all knew that priests were deviated perverts anyways. So I went home and talked to my Dad alone. His face turned into something that came out of a cuisinart. Daddy told me I needed to pray...apparently, he thought I could pray better with a black eye to help me along. So I went in the corner and prayed on my knees. I prayed that someday I would get to see my friend Jennie naked, is what. I figured God could arrange that easier than fixing whatever demon had got hold of me.and made me evil. My Dad changed the sleeping arrangements around. I couldn't share a room with any of my sisters anymore (being evil) and got put in the basement. I got put in the little laundry room/pantry. My Dad put a cross on the wall the size or the original one and I got a Bible and a bed is all. Other stuff happened but I don't want to make this too long. After about a week Daddy decided he needed to effect a better cure than just prayer. So in the midle of the night he came down wearing is robe. He woke me up and said he wanted to show me something. He showed me something. Daddy said it was what I should want and God wanted me to want (Daddy was NOT all that God-spouting religious before this all started..this God talk all the time was pretty new)..He said this was the 'life' connection and it was beautiful. I thought it was the ugliest damned thing I ever saw, but I put a proper look of AWE on my face. Then Daddy told me to touch the magic battering ram of life. Now when you're eleven..or even older..and your Daddy tells you to do something, you do it. Daddy is all powerful, you know.
It looks like a fat dead old snake to me so I touched it. Daddy said don't be afraid, and showed me how to pet it the right way. From the look on his face he was definately having a religious experience of some kind. And guess what? Mr. snake wasn't dead at all! Mr. Snake woke right up and looked at me..and then the little fucker spit right in my eye!! Well, Daddy (once his knees stopped buckling) apologized and cleaned me up with my own dirty sock (thanks asshole) and hugged me. Then he told me I was gonna be ok except if I told anybody in which case I'd go to reform school in hell with my ass on fire. I felt sick and the last thing I wanted to do was tell anybody...ever! Well, if you didn't guess, Daddy and mr. snake came back a few nights later (after being certain I had not told anyone, I think). Daddy was so sweet. He put a little rain hat on Mr Snake so he could't spit at me again. He hugged me and held me and told me he loved me sooooo much and he was gonna help me for my own good. But it was our little secret or he wouldn't love me anymore and would love (go after?) my sisters instead.
Don't be sitting there with your hand in your pants waiting for me to describe it. He undressed me, and he fucked me. It hurt, I bled, I cried, I barfed, I cried some more, and I kept my mouth shut about it. I went to school the next day like nothing happened. I pretended to myself nothing did. and guess what? I wasn't cured..after all Daddy's hard work and sacrifice...I was still looking at girls. What I wasn't doing was looking at guys AT ALL without feeling sick.
Well, I was a hard case. Daddy had to come back three times a week or more. He told Mom he and I were reading the bible and praying...except it seemed I was the only one who ever got on their knees. By the way, if this happened to you..and you think your Mom didn't know...you're so fucking stupid you should wear a pork-pie hat with a propeller on it..and I'll betcha when Mom 'officially' found out she told you she didn't believe you or it was all your fault. Never fails.
Well Daddy tried every way he could think of to cure me from being a lesbian. He seemed to have the most faith in the 'doggy style' cure...but he tried them all.
This went on for four years. When you get abused it becomes a part of you. It's always there, it affects every second of every day. And at some point you figure out it isn't love. What you never figure out is that it isn't your fault, or how to stop it.
When I was 15 I was taken to Omaha for an abortion. Daddy took me and told the doctor what a fucking slut I was and asked about getting my tubes tied. Apparently Daddy had given up on God's plan that I make more life from some magic whammer somewhere. But they said I was too young.
By this time I was an alchoholic and a drug abuser. The school told my parents I was getting fucked up but damnit..Daddy was human and could only deal with one thing at a time. For that shit I REALLY had to pray...alone though.
Well about that time I got into a relationship with an older girl named Toni (Smurf to you) and told her what was happening. She set me straight about lotsa things..and kept working on me to tell someone. Over about a year I came more and more to understand that Daddy was a sick fuck, is all. And you wouldn't know. He's nice looking, well dressed, educated, popular, successful...and a sick fuck. About this time I felt soo bad I used to burn myself with cigarettes just to feel better.
Then one night something new happened. I was multi-tasking..on my knees praying and sucking my father. But this time Mr. Snake was not shrink wrapped..and yep, he let it all fly right into my head (while Daddy held my head in place and and gave God a shout-out). I started choking and gagging, couldn't breathe and threw up on the floor. Daddy apologized..it wasn't his fault..apparently I'd finally learned to use my tongue the way God intended...so he couldn't help it.
What else was different this time is that Daddy didn't hold me or tell me he loved me. He just laughed at me like I was a child who fell off her tricycle and landed on her ass. I felt rage, horrible rage, but my face was stone cold. I told Daddy I needed to go up to the kitchen and get a drink. I planned to get a knife and kill him. But when I got there I saw that someone had put a pot of hot coffee on the stove. I grabbed it without even a mitt (still got the burns on my hand but I didn't feel it at all then). I went back downstairs. Daddy was lying on the bed with his robe on, reading the bible (what else?). I walked over and dumped the whole pot of hot coffee on Mr, Snake and yelled 'Wake up! I'm ready to go Again!' Daddy roarred like a lion, sat up and tired to grab me, and I hit him square in the face with the coffe pot!
Ok, I grabbed my clothes and ran out the door. I was not yet 16. Over the next three years I survived as a thief, drug dealer, and yes...prostitute...blowjobs only..with rubber. I got busted for assault, shoplifting, drugs, dui..lotsa stuff. Do I blame Daddy for what I did AFTER I left home? Fuck no, we're all responsible for ourselves. I'd be dead now if not for a kind person who helped me....the same kind person who helped me write this cause any idiot can tell this is a tad too literate for me alone. He doesn't want me to say who he is.
As for Daddy? Well, he won't be bothering my sisters..not ever..or anyone else from what I hear. But guess what I found out just yesterday?? Before me, Daddy did go after one of my sisters...she fought back..and he gave up. No, she isn't a lesbian..I think he wanted to clear up her skin or something. Imagine that.
So here's the deal. Repost this, everyone. And maybe it'll help somebody. And if this happened to you...tell the fucking world God Damnit. If nobody else loves ya..I will.
Kerrilynn Mary McCarthy Ps this happened to some one eles this wasnt me but really Touched me was a Sad Story :( i hate when people do this to a Child!!
