Not sure if this is even the right subreddit for this, but I just don’t have a friend group I trust to as IRL. It’s a bit complicated.I’m a 50 year old woman. As a teenager I was stalked and repeatedly sexually assaulted by my step-grandfather. He was a professional photographer who specialized in graduation/prom/school photos. We lived for my last two years of high school close to him and my step moms whole extended family. He would follow me and take pictures because I was “so pretty”. That became brushing against me, running his hand up my skirt under the table at family dinners, grabbing my breasts when no one was looking, and finally cornering me in my room once after I had showered and was naked, pushing me down on my bed, and trying to rape me. I was able to push him off of me when the ringing doorbell distracted him, and run naked to the bathroom, locking myself in. All the time we were in a house full of other adult family members. No one noticed or said anything. I avoided family gatherings, locked myself in the bathroom to hide from him... once my aunt asked if I had an eating disorder.He was a creeper. He slept separately from his wife in his “man cave” garage, decorated entirely in nudie pics, like cut out from playboy, and pictures of young girls that he had shot professionally as a photographer. No one seemed to find this odd. This was the 1980s.At one point, he was following me around a family Christmas party begging me to smile for him. I gave him an evil look. At some point later, my step mom was looking through the Christmas party pictures and saw that evil look snapshot. She was furious that I would be so “rude” to her father, and in punishment posted the nasty picture on our fridge until I could learn how to “smile Iike a lady”.I was terrified to tell my parents what was happening. They already thought I was behaving inappropriately with my boyfriend, and I was certain I’d be blamed.Ok... so I graduated and went off to college. Started dating a very nice boy, who’s father was an nypd cop. I confessed what had happened to him. He was incensed. He thought I needed to tell my parents, particularly since my step grandfather had access to other young girls not just in his work as a school photographer, but I had younger female cousins. He convinced me that I had to come forward. But I knew my dad had such a temper, I was afraid he’d punish me. I agreed to tell if I could tell my stepmom so she could warn her siblings on behalf of my cousins. He held my hand and listened to the whole call.I told my step mom the whole thing long distance over the phone. Then she dropped the bomb... she wasn’t surprised. Her father had assaulted her when she was 12. That was when her mom had made her dad move into the garage. She said the entire family (?) was well aware of his predilections, that they never allowed him to be alone with girls. And then she begged me... begged me... never to tell my father the truth. That my father would kill her dad, and she just couldn’t face that. She extracted from me a promise of silence. I was 17. That was 33 years ago now.I never saw my abuser again. I do know that he kept working for another decade. Over the years I’ve had so many questions... if the “whole family” knew he was a pedophile, why was allowed to still work with kids? Why was he allowed to assault me? How did she not see the symptoms when he was stalking me? Did the other cousins really know? How many victims did he have in his lifetime? He was in his 60s when he tried to rape me. I’ve never discussed this with my stepmom to this day.Fast forward to 2020. I don’t think I’m terribly scarred by my abuse. I’m fairly functional relationship wise and sexually. But...Last Christmas the shit hit the fan. My two teen children and I were spending Christmas with my dad and stepmom, now in their 70s. We are at opposite ends of the political spectrum. On Christmas Day there was a large social gathering, and my sister in law started a loud conversation that was derogatory towards LGBT people, particularly trans people. What she didn’t know was that my daughter was trans, but not out yet to extended family. After trying to ignore the conversation for a while, my daughter took herself out of the living area. I approached my sister in law to ask her to change the subject because my kid was crying while trying not to out my trans child... and my step mom went ballistic, I guess figured out what the issue was, and ordered me and my kids out of her house. We packed up and spend Christmas night driving 18 hours home. But the time I got on Facebook that night, my stepmom had blocked me. So I haven’t talked to her since. I haven’t heard their version of the whole incident, but through the extended family grapevine I was apparently spouting violent Antifa liberal hatred. Honestly, in all these years, I thought our relationship was formal, but ok. Not so much. 2020 is a dumpster fire.Since Then I’ve reached out to my dad on his birthday with a letter. Also once with a letter explainIng that my daughter is trans, and that as her mom I am absolutely in her corner. He replied that he’d have to think further. That was six months ago.I know this is long and confusing, but my question is this: I get that he’s chosen not to be in relationship with me, his only biological child, and his grandchildren, because he has issues with transgender people. My heart breaks for that, but he’s made his choice. I can’t change that. But more and more I keep coming back to this issue of abuse. I feel like I was silenced. Like now I will never have a chance to tell what really happened to me, how painful and terrifying and horrible those high school years were. There’s no change that can come from me speaking, I know. My abuser is long dead. And in the case of my father all it can do is throw a complication into his marriage... over 30 years... with a woman who obviously has issues of her own. She did tell me that she had been a victim of her fathers’ abuse. Perhaps there was more she didn’t divulge. Maybe my anger at her ruining my relationship with my dad is all that is motivating me in this? I don’t know.But part of me is tired of being silent. I’ve never told my mom, my biological mom, about it because although we are very close, I know she’d go ballistic. And there’s that 30 year old promise hanging over me. I’m Tired of lying. I know, of course, that my step mom would deny what I say. She clearly has issues with truth telling. I could theoretically try to get in touch with my old boyfriend who heard the whole conversation, he’s a federal judge now, bless his soul. At least he was a young man who wasn’t willing to give sexual abuse a pass.I don’t feel like I need therapy. I’m happy in my life. I have great kids. I love my boyfriend. I just wish my parents really knew what happened to me. Why do I still care so much? via /r/survivorsofabuse https://ift.tt/37FIxar
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