Dear You

*Trigger warning for talk of sexual abuse

Dear all of You,

I hate You. I don't hate easily, but I hate You.

I hate You for being the monsters that stole my innocence at the age of two, and again at three, then four, then five, and so on until I just expected to be threatened and abused by men at any age.

I hate You for implanting the most godawful things into my memories, things I cannot get rid of, things that wake me in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, and screaming "STOP!" to someone who isn't there.

I hate the pain that stabs my heart when I think of the adults who were hurting me when they should have been protecting me as I grew up.

Maybe my autism was the reason I literally believed time and again that You would kill me if I told. Did you sense that? My naivete? Is that why some of You laughed?

You played so many roles in my life.

You were my babysitter, my best friend's dad, my family members, and nearly a stranger. You wore so many masks to cover your personality. You forced me to wear to wear mine, too.

I grew so used to those masks, I still wear them today out of habit.

Did it come naturally to You, I wonder? The ability to destroy someone's psyche at a very young age? Did you learn this somewhere? I assume it was pure Id that made you act upon your impulses, because no decent human being would molest or rape a child. But You did. You gave no thought to the outcome.

People made excuses for one of You, they called you "ill." People knew your dark truths and covered up years of secrets. I was your secret keeper until I wasn't. Then I opened Pandora's box and was called a liar by some.

I wish the things in my head were all made up, but they aren't. I would have a happier mind if flashbacks didn't occur.

One of your sons reached out to me for contact. You probably don't know that. I see he has little girls. He calls you his hero, the best guy he's ever known. I melted down and panicked when I read that. Are You ever going to tell him that his girls aren't safe around you?

I know one of You has granddaughters. I hope their mother is less trusting of you than my own was, even though she was leaving her children in the care of their father.

There are chips in my armor and sometimes I must put forth a facade of strength that I do not have. But I survived. I don't know why any of You picked me. I'll never know why.

I've stopped asking myself that question and accepted that you're less than human. I have so much in my life You don't and You can never take that away.


I have love.

I have stability.

I have a voice.

I have dignity.

I survived all of You.

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