I am heartbroken as I write this. I want to cry but can’t.
I wonder if you care that as I sit here writing this that I want to cut myself. I want to cut myself over and over to make the pain and sadness and everything else I feel go away.
To the man who I called “Dad”, even though I am not your daughter, I thought you loved me but I was wrong.
I was a trusting, innocent child, but that is why you chose me isn’t it? I was 11 years old and too small to fight back.
Did you feel any remorse the day you started abusing me? Did you feel bad the first time you raped me and saw me cry out in pain? Did you feel bad when you caused me to bleed and you made me look after myself? You can’t have done, if you had you would have stopped.
I thought you loved me when you called me “your little princess” and “daddy’s girl” but that was not love. That was your way to make me keep it a secret.
You changed after I tried to tell. You said you would kill me if I tried to tell again. You said I deserved it and that I was bad…..and I believed you.
You treated me badly. The things you did, the photos you took, the men you introduced me to…none of that was love!
You are not capable of love. I was 11 years old when you started abusing me. You stole my childhood and took my innocence. You never stopped, even as I got older and became an adult. I was still your property. You raped me hundreds of times.
You made me blame myself. You changed my life forever.
Abuse is not love. Love doesn’t hurt.
To the woman I have called “mum” for so many years, I thought you loved me, but I was wrong.
Your denial and anger is not love.
You are meant to be my protector but instead you betrayed me. Am I not worth anything to you?
You didn’t even flinch the day you called me a mistake. Telling me I am unwanted, that is not love.
You stand by my abuser, my rapist, and you call me a liar. I know you know what he has been doing to me all these years! I have had to live my whole life in fear never knowing when he might “want” me, except for Christmas’ and Birthdays, on those days I knew, I knew that no matter what I was “his present”.
I still remember the look in your eyes the day I told you what he was doing to me. You were ashamed of me. You could barely even look me. You sent me to my “nans” house to be punished.
I looked up to you, I trusted you, I loved you. You have no idea how much courage it took for me to speak up and tell. I was 13 years old and I needed you! You didn’t even try and fight for me. You stood by him and you let it happen. That isn’t love.
You have made me feel worthless. You have made me feel unlovable. You have called me names and made me the bad one. You have made me hate myself. You have emotionally abused me for years. That is not love.
I cannot cry because of you. Instead I cut myself because I am too afraid to cry. I have built up walls and I cannot trust because of you. You are the first person to have broken my heart. That is not love.
Would you care if you knew how many times I have wanted to kill myself? How many times I wished I had the courage to cut that little bit deeper or to take more of the meds to make me sleep forever? You have made me feel that way. That is not love.
You do not understand how much you have hurt me. You will never understand.
To the woman I have called “nanna” for so many years, I thought you loved me but I was wrong.
We were so close when I was small that I thought I could tell you anything, until the day I told you my biggest secret and you betrayed me. You stood by them. You said I lied too. You punished me. Nothing has been the same since.
I know you know what he did to me. You have practically told me as much. Yet you still refuse to admit that I did not lie and that I should have been helped.
Do you know how much it kills me inside every time you call to tell me I am not sick? Do you even care?
It breaks my heart to hear you say I do not have depression or anxiety, that I am just seeking attention. That is not love.
I wonder how it feels now that I have finally stood up to you and told you my therapist has diagnosed me with PTSD on top of the depression and anxiety. I told you I have been cutting for years to cope with what he was doing to me. You have not spoken to me since I told you. That is not love.
I know she is your daughter, I know he is your son in law, I can even understand that you feel some loyalty to them, but I am your granddaughter! What about me? You let him rape me! That is not love.
To the people I have called “dad”, “mum” and “nanna” for so long, abuse is not love.
I cannot make you love me and I do not want to anymore.
I deserve better. I deserve to be loved and to be known. I deserve to be accepted and appreciated. This is something that none of you are capable of.
I am worth nothing to you and that tears me apart. My own family have hurt me more than I ever imagined anyone could.
Have you been punishing me for being born? I wish sometimes that I never had been.
I have never known a mothers love. I do not know what comfort feels like or the relief of crying. I don’t know what a real family feels like or what it feels like for a family to love me. That is not love.
You have all underestimated me my whole life. You have used me and betrayed me and punished me. You have made me hate myself and feel alone. You have made me hurt myself and want to die on more than one occasion but I am still here. You thought I would keep your dirty little secret forever but that is not the case.
I am in so much pain writing this, even though I know you will probably never see it.
I am so hurt and so unbelievably sad that I do not know how to cope and I want to cut so badly…..but I have to do this.
In a single moment everything can change. It may take me a while but I am giving up on you. I have to.
I never thought any of you could cause me so much pain but now I realise love cannot be found where it does not exist.
To the people I used to call “dad”, “mum” and “nanna”, I truly and deeply thought you loved me.
That was my mistake. A mistake I will never make again.
To the people I thought loved me…
Thanks for reading.