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    My father went to prison when I was only a few months old. He and my mother were married. She was 22 years old, and he was two weeks from His crime and subsequent incarceration devastated her.

    She discovered she was pregnant with my brother after my father was already gone. No one did, except to say how much I looked like him.

    Sometimes I caught him. When I thought of visiting my father, I pictured the beige rooms, the beige uniforms, and how everything seemed to be nailed down.

    I always brought bags of change to use at the vending machines. I knew he had a sweet tooth, and I wanted to buy him something sweet.

    He always got reprimanded by guards for holding my hands too long. The only real information I had about my dad came in his letters; he sent me dozens.

    Photographs included in those letters were precious. In the 30 years he was locked away, I only received four. That was the best he could do.

    Phone calls were too expensive, plus, my mom, siblings and I kept moving. He had no access to the kind of technology people were using more and more on the outside.

    I wrote him back by hand approximately three times. I had been receiving his letters since before I could read, and wanted to respond much more often than I did.

    How do you catch someone up on your entire life? Our relationship existed in sparse correspondence and our own imaginations.

    We dreamed of one another — what we might be like — long before we met. Each meeting, though pleasant, bowed under the weight of all our expectations.

    We never talked about it, yet somehow agreed on these terms. An unspoken pact between an emotionally desperate father and daughter. I made a special playlist on iTunes before going to see my dad for the first time as a free man.

    I sat up in my hotel room in Indianapolis, having arrived from Brooklyn at nearly 1 a. Sleep did not show up that night.

    As scared as I was of the bedbugs I assumed surrounded me in that atrocious hotel, I was more afraid what would happen when I saw my father.

    Would he be proud of me? How were we going to make this relationship — the real one — work? I lived in Brooklyn, and he would be staying with his sister in Indiana.

    More importantly, he had been in prison for 30 years and had no contact with modern technology. And yet, I was constantly logged in, logged on, or scrolling.

    My mother, my aunt, and I sat around chatting for over an hour before we heard the garage door open. And I was. He walked over to me silently, put his arms around me, and kissed my temple.

    Thank you, Jesus! I only ever had one picture of us together, taken in the prison visiting room: my brother and I seated on either side of a father we did not know; our faces a mixture of happiness and confusion.

    On this day, my father and I silently looked up at each other, wondering who the other might be, and excited to find out. I stayed in Indiana for a week.

    My dad and I went shopping for new clothes for him. Stores were a lot for him. I tried to explain that there were often other people to talk to or look at on phones.

    There were mostly no long-distance fees; there were photos and videos — basically the whole world could be on these screens.

    Why not just look at them? We were shopping together for the first time, shooting the shit for the first time, and despite all my usual inclinations, I had no desire to rush to document it.

    When my dad asked for my number, I wrote it down on the back of a receipt and handed it to him. I looked up at him and grinned. That number follows me wherever I go.

    All his questions were about me. Where did I work? Did I love it? Who was I dating? Did I love them? Would he get to meet them? What was my home like?

    What was my favorite food? Did I remember telling him I was proud of his art? Would it be alright if he called me on Wednesdays and Saturdays? Would I spend the night tonight so we could sleep under the same roof for the first time?

    Was I sleepy? Was I happy? I ignored my phone the entire drive back to Indianapolis, the flight back to New York, and most of the day after. I made a lot of money stripping but I want to get out of it because I'm getting too old for that stuff.

    I get into bad mental places where I don't trust and hate everyone but being with friends is good therapy. I'm planning on moving away from my family and never talking to them again because it's so psychologically damaging for me when they tell me I'm crazy and that I'm evil for making up terrible lies.

    I don't think I could ever get married because my husband would ask why I don't talk to my family and if I told anyone they'd judge me so harshly.

    There's a bad social stigma surrounding this subject even though I was an innocent victim. I can't stand being around men who are attracted to youth and that seems to be all men.

    The only thing that makes me feel better is I knew an ex boyfriend of mine would never molest a child because he hates child molesters because his mother's father raped her and my ex-boyfriend was attracted to how I was 5 years older than him.

    His problem was that he was a cheater but that's small beans compared to a child molester. I just can't wait to move away from my family so I can begin the healing process but it's going to be hell until that happens.

    I am hoping that you'll get a new job and will be able to move out soon. What you said sounds like a good plan. I agree, you have to take one step at a time or else you'll loose your balance.

    I am glad you are going to see a doctor for anxiety meds. I completely agree about the stigma that surrounds the issue of sexual abuse.

    Unfortunately, our society, as a whole, is still poorly educated about it and tends to blame victims. I also understand your concerns about reporting, that's why I would never suggest that it absolutely has to be done.

    This is one of those issues, where I believe that every situation is unique and there is no right solution. My belief is that the person's safety and well-being is the most important thing.

    Take care and keep talking here as long as it helps. I think it helps so much because my family is completely unsupportive by implying that I'm making it up because I'm crazy or mean.

    My sisters steal from me a lot and my mom doesn't believe me about that, either. I've decided I need to move away from my family and never come back, not even talk to them again.

    My sisters pretend to be nice to me but then they steal from me even though I'm so poor and they make good money. My entire family has been verbally abusive to me and my mother's allowed it.

    They will take anything of value from me, including boyfriends, and then pretend to be nice to my face and they never stop denying it.

    They pretend to be completely innocent but they're really leeches. My mom verbally abused me for a long time.

    I need so much help and all I get from her is harsh criticism. I'm so emotionally fragile at this time I can't deal with any of this.

    Disowning my family hurts so much and I'll be so lonely but I really can't deal with this anyone. One time my mom was yelling at me and I broke down crying really hard and she didn't say sorry or anything, she just walked away.

    I've struggled with suicidal thoughts for a long time, decades, and came very close to doing it several times. I'm not going to do it because I invented things and I think I may become rich but I still feel just as emotionally fragile.

    It's so important for me to turn away from my family and not come back but it's going to hurt so much.

    And I believe it does hurt to leave home when you know that this would not be necessary if your family was loving and supportive WM. For example, today I told my mom the neighbors work on their lawn with a weed whacker, lawn mower, or leaf blower like 4 days a week at 8am and it wakes me up and it's annoying because who works on their lawn that much!

    She wouldn't believe me and told me it was construction on the other side of the block. I said I can hear the difference between the two and I can see people outside my window working on the neighbors lawn but there's nothing I can say that will convince her.

    She refuses to believe me about anything that makes her feel uneasy because she just can't deal with problems. Another example, my sisters come into the house and steal from me.

    She refuses to believe this and continues to refuse to lock the doors to our house. I asked her to please lock the doors but she won't because she said it makes her feel bad that she would have to lock the door.

    Locking the door is the only thing that makes me feel safe! Plus my sisters will steal anything from me and then lie about it and the way my mom goes into denial about things reinforces their behavior.

    I'm so sick of all their crap I swear I am finished with this family and said I will leave and never come back. I will probably still talk to my mom because she raised me and I love her in spite of all her problems but I need a lot of time away from them and am finished with my thieves of sisters.

    I'm scared because I'm not financially stable and I may need their help some day but I just can't deal with their lies and manipulations anymore.

    I've been thinking about breaking into my sisters house to get my stuff back because I know she'll never give it back and it makes me so angry.

    I'm scared of getting caught but am pretty certain I can card the back door because everyone's at work on the weekdays. This is a pretty intense stuff to deal with.

    I'd recommend that you confront your sister instead of breaking into her home, even if you know that she won't admit she did it. I'm just concerned that she might get you arrested.

    Confronting her will just let her know that you are not going to tolerate it and you will keep an eye on her when she comes over.

    I don't know if you have the power in your home not to let her come anymore. If yes that'd be the best. She's still denying it.

    My dad just came home even though my mom told him he needed to leave the house. He just stops by unannounced. I told him he needed to leave and he left but he kept saying "Why are you mean to your father?

    That's the dumbest question! He should be explaining why he molested me, apologize, and say he won't do it again!

    But I wouldn't even believe him because the questionable things he's done since picking my bedroom lock to stare at my naked body while I was asleep.

    I would say it's a manipulation but I know he genuinely feels sorry for himself. That's the way he is.

    He abuses others, works with disabled people so he thinks he's the holiest person in the world, and thinks everyone is mean to him for no good reason, and feels sorry for himself.

    I swear, I'm a good person, but I wish he'd kill himself. He attempted suicide before and he said he wanted to do it so his kids could get the life insurance payout because he feels like a failure cuz he didn't provide for his children.

    This put the idea in my head and I think he owes me big time. He at least owes me the peace of mind I could get by not having him around!

    He won't leave because he wants the love and support of a family but he will not get that from me. Maybe I could some day forgive him and take him back in my life because he does have some good qualities but I can't while I live in this house because I don't feel safe living with him.

    I just sent him a message on facebook. It reads: "I am not mean to you I do not feel safe around you. Take responsibility for your actions. You molested me when I was a kid and you picked my lock to stare at my naked body when I was asleep.

    Maybe you can 4 others but you can't 4 me so don't even try, you just make yourself look worse. What you did is awful. You can't undo it but you should at least give me the peace of mind I need to recover from this trauma by leaving me alone.

    Don't you get it? You're lonely, big deal. You're the worst father in the world but you could make it a little better by just staying away from me.

    I don't want it to come to that but the anger, anxiety, and depression get really bad at times and there's no talking to him because he just denies everything and feels sorry for himself and guilts me.

    Daughter And Dad Sex Stories Video

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