When the Victim becomes the Survivor Swan

I put my biological father behind bars when I was 7 years old.  If you're able to enlarge this picture, the one of me when I was little was taken before I ever opened up about my abuse.  I might look like I'm smiling, but you can see that my soul is broken behind those eyes.  What girl, at the age of 5/6, should think that they have an STD (this happened during the huge AIDS pandemic of the 90's)...what little girl should fear that they are pregnant...and what little girl should fear retribution for getting their daddy in trouble when, in the end, the daddy did something so reprehensable that he should have had his junk sliced up and then tossed into a cage full of rabid rats?  *sigh*  Ok...maybe I don't agree that the punishment would have been correct, or even enough, but still.  I WAS that broken little girl.  I'm not her any more.

I've gone to years of therapy, have been blessed with some of the most amazing people that I just so happen to be related to...just...I had everything that a broken little girl could possibly need to go from being broken to being healed.  My mother did everything she could for me, my Grammy and Pop were there for me in ways that I realize NOW was beyond what is normal...and yet it was PERFECT...

My Pop held my hand while I testified in court, in front of that monster, about what I went through.  I can never thank him enough for helping hold my mom together, and for helping me make sure I had the strength to put the bad man away.

In October 2013 I had the "opportunity" to testify at my monsters parole hearing.  I'd not seen him for about 15 years at this point, and yet I still suffered nightmares on a rather regular basis.  Leading up to his parole hearing I was a complete bundle of melting down nerves.  I fear seeing him, therefore allowing him to know what I look like (what if he gets granted parole and hunts me down for the 20+ years he's been in prison!?!?  Irrational, I know...but not invalid, based on experiences - and the way my mind reverts back to that scared little girl sometimes).  What if I can't talk when I'm looking at him?  What if seeing him makes the nightmares worse!?!?!?

I realized that to get ready to go to this parole hearing, I needed to go and see the scene of the crime.  I called the apartment community that I lived in when the abuse occurred, and wondered if I could come and tour an apartment.  They're all set up the same way, so I was HOPING it wasn't going to be the same one.  Looks are enough.  My hubby came with me, was my rock, as I went into the apartment leasing office.  I ended up telling them that I'm looking to close up some wounds, that I am not looking to rent...but I need to view an apartment so that I can relive the abuse and bring closure to things that have not closed yet.  The staff that was on hand was AMAZING...they opened up the showroom apartment and left me alone.  I stood there, in an apartment just like the one I lived in, and realized just how SMALL it is.  I pointed out where the fridge was, explained how I remembered the bedrooms being set up, laughing about the time I pretended to be Indiana Jones (and almost burned down the apartment because I accidently set a beanbag chair on fire...), and everything was just like "I can't believe this place is so small!  I remember it being so much bigger."

Then I walked into the bathroom.  I was raped in the bathroom, on the floor, and I remember how cold the floor was.  I remember how much it burned to pee afterwards.  I remember lying, when I was being interviewed by detectives, saying that it had been my sister who was raped - not me - and that I'd seen it all by watching through the crack under the bathroom door.  I'm sorry, but now that I'm an adult...I realize just how ridiculous my lie was.  This bathroom is WAY too small for me NOW.  Yes, I'm a big girl...but the fact that I almost have to stand in the tub to shut the door so that I can go potty in privacy...just WOW!  I remember this place being so much bigger.  Yes, I cried.  Yes, I clung to Doug for support.  But wanna know what?  Hours after viewing the apartment, I felt a sense of peace that I'd yet to experience before.  It built up my resolve to actually go and testify at the parole hearing.

The following BLURP of words is the victim impact statement that I read, at the parole hearing, and it really did help me feel better.

"There was once a time in my life that I was so worried that I had angered my dad.  I worried that he would never forgive me for tattling on him, putting him behind a wall he could never escape.  It’s funny how a childs mind works because all I worry about now is letting that monster know how much I hate him, the man I once called father, and I want to make sure that he knows just how screwed up he made my life, and the lives of all those in it.

(Insert Monsters Name) is a monster.  That monster still haunts my dreams.  Years of healing and therapy don’t take away the horrible dreams.  I still remember how cold the bathroom floor was.  I still remember how much it burned to pee after he finished with me.  I remember EVERYTHING!  He hurt me!  I’ve got children now, similar in age as I was during the painful times, and I wonder how ANYONE could possibly think “I’m going to totally fuck the hell out of my child.”  What could have possibly possessed a full grown man, one I should have been able to trust in protecting me from all the pain and evil in the world, to take full sexual advantage of an innocent child…breaking her in ways that can never be fully healed…then turn around and say “Daddy loves you.”
(Insert Monsters Name) hurt me.  But he didn’t only hurt me, he hurt my mom and sister too.  My sister, Sarah, was only 4 years old when the monster went to prison.  She was left without any real memories of her dad, only what she got from the few visits to prison we did when we were younger, and what she has heard from my mother and I.  (Insert Monsters Name) ruined mine and my sisters childhood, abandoned fatherhood, left physical and emotional scars, and has a continued mental presence within me…on top of the actual RAPE…and the 2 girls that he fathered were left to grow up with a jaded view of adult men. 

My mother, who is my rock…my best friend…has sacrificed SO much because of this monster.    She became a single mom.  A single mom with no child support to help her raise her two daughters, no chance for a break from her parental responsibilities, and the worst part of all?  My mom still battles the guilt of having married the monster, and she fears that there was a way that she could have prevented the pain that this monster caused.  I know that she has done absolutely everything in her power that she could to protect me, and she was away in “the big army” when I was raped.  There was nothing she could have really changed, yet she holds onto this mothers guilt even to this day.

My mom has sacrificed SO much to make sure my sister and I were taken care of.  She had to take me to one or two therapy visits a week for YEARS!  My sister used to get jealous, as she thought that the therapy time was me getting preferential treatment.  So on top of the fact my mom had to sometimes work 2 jobs, and lots of overtime, to make ends meet, she was getting me to all my various appointments, and then had to spend special time with my sister.  That, then, caused me to get so jealous because my sister was getting all this special attention…it was so unfair!

My mom battles with depression, and worked so much to make ends meet.  She has paid for glasses, braces, therapy, clothing for her two daughters (who are taller than average, which makes some items more expensive), and all of these things that should have had two parents involved in providing for their children.  She was single for so many years because of her horribly chaotic schedule, and was worried about how I would react to another adult male in my life.

It frustrates me SO much that I’m sort of viewed, by people that I love, as a china doll that was broken and then glued back together.  More fragile, easily broken, and therefore I feel that they treat me differently.  That they choose things differently than they would if I wasn’t this fragile china doll.

Well, I’m no longer that broken little girl, and I’m no longer afraid.  The monster may haunt my dreams, but I am bigger and stronger than he EVER was, and ever will be.  I am working on my Master’s degree in psychology, having graduated with my Bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice, and I’m pursuing my career goal of being a victim advocate.  I currently work in the corrections system, and actively pursue all volunteer opportunities I get to help other victims see that they too can become a survivor.  I am also the best parent, and step-parent, that I can possibly be.  I work so hard to be everything that HE was not, will not, and could not ever be.

I know that it has been 20 years since I testified in court against that man, and some may think that 20 years is enough punishment for what he did.  But there is NO punishment that he can possibly get in this life that is serious enough for the horrendous crime he committed against a child.  HIS CHILD.  I will have to live with my scars and dreams for the rest of my life.  Why should this monster that hurt so many, though raped only me, be able to get out?  Why should he have the opportunity to get married again, go to the bar, play pool with friends, and get a job, ANY OF THAT?  I do not honestly believe that a child rapist can ever be fully rehabilitated.  I fear for anyone else that he could ever hurt.  One victim is more than enough.  He deserves his punishment, as this is the bed he made for himself the moment his penis entered his daughter’s vagina.

I will gladly work the rest of my life to pay the taxes that fund his stay in this detention facility.  I will come and share my story, reminding the parole board the reason the monster is in prison, at all future parole hearings.  I will continue my education, and help others who have been so horribly wronged.  It is because of all that I went through by the age of seven that I’ve been so dedicated to my education, to my work in the corrections system, and am so focused on helping other victims become survivors.

I am a survivor, and I will maintain my stance on this side of the cell door.  (Insert Monsters Name) deserves to remain on the other side of this door, locked up, where he belongs.  If he does get released, he still will have absolutely no physical existence in my life.  Daddies little girl has grown up, grew a pair, and is no longer going to hide from the monster.  Because I’m no longer little, and I’m no longer afraid."

***

The following is my recounting of how the parole hearing went:

"So we show up (my husband, sister, mom and stepdad)  to the prison, entering the facility about 15 minutes ahead of when the parole hearing was scheduled. We get in and are placed in a waiting area. I couldn't sit, so I was pacing back and forth. There was a few mundane things that happened during the time we were waiting, but they're not really important.

The corrections officer comes out to let us know it's time, and as we're being lead back I ask "Are we going in first?" I was informed that my biodad was already there, but he had been informed to not turn around at all...to make no contact with me...and I was relieved. As we enter the room I see, almost smack dab in the middle of the room, an old man...bald...super hairy ears...and so small! That can't possibly be the monster that haunts my dreams!

We sit down and the hearing begins. He is read his reason for the hearing, and reprimanded for his lack of being a good person (apparently there have been 5 paroled times...and he does something sexual harrassment/sexually deviant that gets him thrown back in...NEWS TO ME). As they're talking I realize that I didn't get all dolled up, prepared for this hearing, to speak to the back of his head. So I motion for one of the correction officers to come to me and I asked if it'd be possible to have him turn around while I do my victim impact statement. They told me I'd have to ask the Parole board member, but it shouldn't be a problem. So when it was my turn I got up to the table, and asked if he could turn around and look at me as I say what I want to say.

My wish was granted. Slowly I watch as this man, this monster, turns around...and all the memories I have of him are crumbling as I look at this sad, pathetic, broken old man. He is told to not make eye contact with me, not to talk to me, or do anything that would require action be taken. Once he voices his understanding to the rules, I am told that I need to be sworn in. I laugh (inside) and say "I know which hand is my right hand now" and go on with the swearing in. (when I was 7, testifying in court against him, I didn't know which one was my right hand. The entire courtroom giggled at the innocence and sadness of the situation...but I know which hand is my right hand now).

I'm sworn in and begin reading my victim impact statement. IT is available to those who want to read it, but I won't post it in here. As I'm reading my statement, my mom is standing next to me holding up that picture of me...of what I was before I told on him, putting him in prison. My statement caused the parole board lady to choke up, and (as I'm told) I had the corrections officers starting at me intently. 

After I finished, the parole board lady asked my biodad if he had anything he wanted to say. All that the bastard had to say was "She has every right to feel that way." and that's pretty much it. I didn't get him crying, I didn't get a heart felt "I'm sorry." NOTHING! 

The parole board lady was not too thrilled with his lack of any response, either. So who knows...perhaps the fact he has failed 5 times, and truly shows no remorse for what he did to me, and is only focused on doing what he has to do (and saying what he has to say) to get out...maybe he just shot himself in the foot?

I'm glad this is over. I'm glad I got to stare down the monster, and this time I knew I am stronger than him. I did it!"

***

Last thing to note...and the biggest thing of all...I've not had a SINGLE nightmare since I did this.  That monster can't hurt me any more.  He's smaller than I am, height and weight.  He's old.  He's sad.  I am no longer little, and I'm no longer afraid!