I’ve been scared to post on my blog recently. *takes deep breath* It feels good to put words to my absence from my blog.

My biological dad (BD) gets out of Jail tomorrow. My BD was NOT the person who sexually abused me. My BD had a mental breakdown after finding out I had been abused when I was a child. I am scared for my BD to get out because before he went to jail, he was obsessed with telling the media what happened to me, telling my story, and seeking ‘justice*’, namely: Alex being in Jail. The thought of the media taking what happened to me, sensationalizing it, and then demanding a ‘justice’ that it gets to define, is terrifying.

Before my BD went to jail, and before I decided to write this blog, my BD posted on Facebook, he wrote about what happened, the name of the person who did it, and that I was the one he did it too. I was crushed. This was not my BD’s to tell.

 I called him and I said these exact words:

“I’m 24 years old now and I am smart and capable of making my own decisions. I don’t want this. I don’t want a court case. I don’t want media attention. I don’t want this publicly shared on Facebook. The justice that I want is being able to thrive in my life now. To graduate with my master’s degree and to live a happy and fulfilling life here in Madison. The things you’re sharing on Facebook, the court case you’re talking about, and media attention are all things that prevent me from living my life to the fullest here. You’re also hurting me, your actions tell me that you don’t think I’m an adult capable of making good decisions. It hurts because you’re completely disregarding everything I’ve told you about what I want and what I think is best for me. I want you to stop. Stop posting things on Facebook about this and take down what you’ve already posted. Do not start a court case and please do not bring the media into this. It’s not what I want and you’re hurting me by doing this.”

I have this verbatim because when I decided I wanted to talk to my BD, I knew it would be hard and I wanted to make sure that I clearly communicated how I felt, the impact it was having and what I wanted and needed- so I wrote it down and then read it to him. I asked my parents to be with me. I wanted someone there to remind me that I was clear in expressing what I needed and to remember what happened. I cried, a lot. I cried writing this. I cried saying it to him and I cried after when nothing came of the words I said and my feelings and needs about something that happened TO ME were ignored, again.

I predicted this would be the outcome. I needed my parents there to remind me that I had been clear. To remind me that my needs had been ignored. I needed this because sometimes when your biological parents ignore your basic needs, you think it was something you forgot to say. Or maybe you just weren’t very clear. You think that it is something you did wrong, and then that you are wrong- that there must be something wrong with you. Other people’s parents hear them, talk to them, and often take care of these basic needs. What’s wrong with me? Am I really that bad of a person? Those questions turn into statements: ‘I don’t deserve love (otherwise my parents would have given it to me)’; ‘I am a terrible person’; ‘Why would anyone love me?’.

Before I go on… If your parents didn´t meet your basic needs as a child or as an adult and/or they harmed, you. This is not okay. You are loveable. You are deserving of care and life. Even if you don’t have parents to remind you. If you’d let me, I’d like to remind you. I´m sorry. I am truly sorry this happened to you, and it is NOT a reflection of your value. I write the thoughts that I internalized for a long time, not to validate that these are true, but to let you know you are not alone and that they are false.  

When I reached out to my BD, the need that I was expressing was a need for safety. While I post openly about the abuse now, I didn’t back then. I had and have a right to my story, to say when and to whom it is shared.

This is only one of several situations that took place like this. My life growing up was filled with these moments and since my BD’s original manic episode- this is a regular occurrence. It took a long time to learn that this was abnormal. Sometimes it still surprises me, when my parents or my husband ask me what I need. When they consult me. When they value my opinions, my thoughts, and my needs. When they ask me questions: ‘What did you do this week? When is the last time you ate? How is work going? Do you need X? How can we help? What do you think about…? We love you’.

Not everyone finds a family that loves them. I know I am lucky. I am thankful and appreciative of my parents, grandparents, aunts, and cousins that love me and show me that I am worthy. Yes, I could’ve gotten to this place on my own, and many do, but I didn’t and I feel like I wouldn’t be this far along without you. Sometimes the love completely overwhelms me. I know, funny right? Not from the number of questions, or from thinking about my answers but from recognizing the complete lack of this I had when I was a kid, a teenager, a young adult, and now.

A close friend of mine asked me recently: “how do you maintain contact with an abusive person?”

The short answer is: “I don’t. I can’t.”

This is my choice and I don’t make it because I fail to recognize my BD’s mental illness or how the choices he makes are influenced by that illness. I have made this choice because I know I am worthy of love and I deserve to be heard. (I also believe that some people make contact work and can do so while minimizing the harm.) For me, I need my biological family to stop ignoring hard conversations. Let’s talk about it. Let’s acknowledge the hurt and forge a path together forward. But for me, that path needs to start with an acknowledgment of the harm. None of us are free of that responsibility. The post is still up. My BD has not acknowledged the harm that was done. He makes these choices in and out of manic states. He has choices and so do I.

I choose to take care of myself, and I choose no contact (NC).