Abuse

As a matter of fact, I find it ways easier to express myself in English than in German. So I have decided to make some of my entries in English and some in German. Today I’ll start with a posting in English as I want to talk about the abuse.

As I have stated before, my father sexually, emotionally and mentally abused me. As far as I remember, it started when I was about 3 years old and went on until my 21st year of life. Because I do not recall the time before my 3rd birthday I am not quite sure about the beginnings. It might as well be that the abuse started earlier. There would be only one source to find out about that: my brother. But unfortunally he suffers from those blackouts I have described for my own person, as well. We have tried to figure out when the abuse started precisely, but there was no chance to do so. I have promised to keep my brother out of my entries as far as possible, but I think it’s okay with him if I tell you that the abuse my father put upon me also had effects on him. From his 11th year of life on he went to a boarding school and only came home for the Easter and Christmas holidays and for one and a half month summer break, but before his time there and later on at university, he noticed the misuse, of course. Many people ask me why my brother did not try to help me, but I can assure you that he did what was possible for him. I am in peace with this, although we had a lot of problems in our relationship.

My father always compared me to him and in his opinion I was the weak, dirty, worthless of his two sons. Indeed, I have never been able to perform as brilliant as my brother did, neither in school nor in any other aspect of life. When I was younger, I did not correlate the abuse with my poor performance, but today I know I would have been a better person in almost every aspect of life if my father had not done what he did. I was brought up in the opinion that I am not worth more than 30 Deutschmarks, as my father explained to me that this would be the price of my body if it was splitted up into the single chemical elements it consists of and sold by their worth. In his mind, there was no use in investing time, money or whatever into something (I was not somebody to him, but only something) so cheap and nasty and since my childhood I believed in my worthlessness.

The only way to get attention and a sort of perverted love from him was to try to serve him in every way he wanted. There were times I tried to entice him to have sex with me, just to see a short spark of sympathy in his looks. Today I know that it was just lust and not even a trace of love. When I served him, I felt dirty and even more worthless and I did not dare to talk to anyone about the abuse. I thought people could see, sense or even smell it and feared being exposed as my father’s lover. As I have already alluded to, I come from a small rural community and my father was a well-respected and rich man. I still do not know whether people knew what he did and ignored it (due to fear, shame or whatever) or whether they really did not know about the abuse. In the 70ies and 80ies, there was no such awareness concerning child-abuse as there is nowadays.

Apart from being sexually abused my father liked to cause pain on me. He was a cigar-smoker and over the years he stubbed out cigars all over my body. Fortunately, most of them did not turn out to be scars, but one can still see some spots. He hit me hard using his hand and more often objects such as shoes, belts, hangers and so on. I am totaly aware of the fact that my submissive affection is caused by this, which was confusing. I do not want to be pitied but I find it important to write about that as it is a part of myself.

It took me very long to write all this down and I am really tired now.

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