It all started when I was about 4 years old. This man came into my life. Meant to complete that picture of a traditional family. Be the figure to love me and guide me into building my personal foundation. Lovingly teach me about men and masculinity. Supposedly be the father I never really had…

Instead he chose to show his love and fulfill the fatherly role differently. From a dark place inside himself whether nature or nurture, he made a decision to feed his angry needs. Feeding on a little girl that was me. Depriving me of the positive, loving and constructive fuel that I needed for my base. The base that would be the core from where I could build on and fall back on whenever I faced hardships.

He chose to use my body, mind and soul for nearly a decade. He had his own way of tucking me in at night. As a bedtime story he would tell me how much he loved me, appreciated me and needed me. He would ask if I loved him too… Young as I was I thought this just had to be the way it works. Cause he was “daddy”, the loving father. Deep down I felt there was something wrong. Whenever he needed to nourish his angry needs, he would make it come across as a special moment we shared, a secret just for the two of us.

At the age of 13 I no longer wanted to be part of that secret that  was hurting me and leaving me empty of all the hopes&dreams, love and strength, guidance and protection.

Although I realize it only now while writing…this was the first time I outspokenly chose ME.