Sunday, April 29, 2012

How many of us?

This may trigger some readers, please be aware before reading. 

This is something that I have been wondering for a long time. I've talked to some friends about the experience. Daddy knows, of course, Daddy knows everything. Without outing anyone who is not ready, my very good friend Monster's Nightmare talks about her experience on her blog. My new friend faerie talks about hers on her blog. Faerie says she is tired of keeping the secret, and it made me think maybe I am, too. And I wonder how many of us have been broken...

My father was largely absent from my life. He technically lived in the house, in the spare room where his wife had relegated him, until she required his services. He worked three or four jobs, all the time, because she spent money like water. I learned as I grew that it was a relief, likely, to have the reason to be away from her. She slept with a loaded Winchester under her bed and took pleasure in threatening him with it at regular intervals, that someday she'd come in when he was asleep and blow him away.

'She' is the woman who gave birth to me. She is not my mother, mothers don't do the things she did. She was an unwilling womb-donor. My mother is the woman my father married when I was 16. She taught me what is was to be a mother as I observed her with my brother and sister. She gave me some kind of foundation for how to treat my children. I am grateful for her presence in my life. I would have been lost without her....literally. She welcomed me out of a black hole and into her home when I was 16 - right before she married my father - how great a sacrifice is that?

The womb donor was schizophrenic. She was an alcoholic. She was addicted to street and prescription drugs. She was abusive in every way possible. Once, curious about a Christmas present she threatened me until I told her what she was to receive, then beat me into the corner for spoiling the surprise. It was our secret, though & when she opened it and acted surprised, she gave me a conspiratorial wink. Things like that were commonplace. She would take the money my father would give her for bills and food and go away for the weekend with her men - another secret, wink-wink. She would wake me at 2 or 3AM, and I would be made to bring her dresser drawers down one at a time, stand behind them while she directed me how to clean & straighten them, and told me I was a worthless pig, a whore, a slut ...words I had no concept of their meaning, and which still bring violent reactions to me to this day. Hour after hour, drawer after drawer, hurtful word after hurtful word.

She was very promiscuous. There was an endless parade of men in and out of our house. My father was never there, his main job was shift-work, made it easy for her. Some of her men friends liked little girls. She made me available to them. My first clear memory was at age 5. It stopped about 12 or 13. Sometimes she would leave me alone with them. Sometimes she was there, holding me down, telling me this is what the big girls do, and I wanted to be a big girl, didn't I? I learned how to dissociate just to be numb, to not have to experience things, and to be able to save myself from worse, reaction meant it got worse- never show them how much it hurts.

She broke me. I disliked touch and intimacy - they are still hard for me. I didn't - still don't - trust easily. I am a big researcher. When I started exploring I learned that my submissive nature could have been nurtured by my childhood, and my need to be pleasing, loved and accepted. I've tried to understand why I need the things in my life that I do having come from that.

The Daddy part - heck that's easy - he is reparenting that part of me. I am free to be that which I never was before, sweet, small, innocent, and treasured. I am free to see and experience my sense of delight and wonder in the world, and someone is delighted by it.  I am free to trust, and know that my trust will not be broken. I am free to enjoy touch, with love. Thank you, Daddy, I love you with my all, your love is unconditional and that is my miracle. YOU are my miracle, and I am forever grateful for you.

The DD part, that's a little harder. This is what I figure - my world was inconsistent. There was no sure footing. Things were variable. With DD, there is surety. There is structure. There are rules which do not change. They are enforced with consistency and love.

There is another part of it - why do I crave spanking when I am stressed, when I am hurt, when I need to feel my place. Again, this is what I believe... I learned to shut off my emotions to save myself. But that doesn't mean that behind my placid face I was not screaming. I can take any physical pain you can give to me. I crumble under emotional pain. Spanking takes that emotional pain, transfers it to my flesh and it disappears - it is a purge.

I wonder all the time, and I see stories like Monster's Nightmare's and faerie's that mirror my own, and I wonder just how many of us have suffered like this. I wonder how many of us have found the love and acceptance that we crave in this lifestyle. And I wonder if that is why we are so tolerant of the variances in experience, and expression - because we sense that kinship.


  1. Oh Honey, I'm so sorry that happened to you. When I saw your comment on that post of mine I had a feeling what was coming. Sad to say, but the statistics are 1 of every 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys have been sexually abused. That is just in the general population, I have wondered if it is higher in our community. You have some very interesting insight into why this lifestyle works for you.

    Much like you I can take any amount of physical pain inflicted without so much as a whimper. It is dealing with the emotional pain that is a challenge.

    Be well my friend, and know that you are not alone :)

    1. And I am so sorry for what happened to you, my friend. It's a sad, sad statistic, it makes the heart ache.

      I spend a lot of time trying to understand the things I think, feel, need, desire. I'm not sure why, be it for the simple understanding because it seems incongruous or to prove I'm not crazy - I just know I need to understand. I'm not sure I've got it right, but that seems as logical as anything else.

      Emotional pain, those are the times I most need Daddy to firmly take control. It always helps, and I get the emotional release that I have never had, because we are so connected. He always knows what I need.

      Thank you, my friend, I am in very good company, and I'm very glad that I'm not alone.


  2. "But that doesn't mean that behind my placid face I was not screaming. I can take any physical pain you can give to me. I crumble under emotional pain. Spanking takes that emotional pain, transfers it to my flesh and it disappears - it is a purge."

    Somewhere in a journal buried in a box of journals, there is an entry that runs along these same line. That transference of mental to physical and the pain that washes it all away. Those purges work so well for me.

    I just didn't want to keep that secret anymore either. After my little episode and Monster just being there, being himself, taking care of these...broken pieces of me, it was easier to talk about. Something that hardly anybody knew, it didn't seem so...massive, for people to know. I always felt that people would look at me different, think of me as less than, or would think I was doing it for attention. So I never shared. After that one night, my thoughts changed. Monster and I were closer. He knew about all of it from the very beginning. But that one night, that one revelation, the Daddy/girl bond got stronger.

    Annnnd, I am rambling. Lol.

    Hugs to you, sweetness. Go you, for your bravery in sharing and for the strength that you have.

    1. The strength I have comes from Daddy's support and from awesome sisters like you and faerie. Daddy has known from early in our relationship. Do you remember I told you about the fairy tale I write for Daddy? The fairy tale came about as a way for me to tell him this - so that if he rejected me it wouldn't be quite so painful - I didn't really have to own it. It wasn't me - it was An Chol. But he didn't reject me. He held me tighter. He loved me deeper. He said he wished he had her before him and that she had to answer to him. (I haven't seen or talk to her since '85. And I just found out on Facebook last year, from a former neighbor that she had died 3 weeks before the contact).

      Then you and faerie were brave enough to tell your stories. I don't know if I on some sub-conscious level blame myself for what happened - I know that the 'big' part of my brain understands it was not. But it is a burden & I don't want to own it anymore. I want to blow it into the wind and be done with it. I want not to be rooted in that time and in that place. I want to be able to mean it when I say, it's part of my experience, but it's in the past. It's part of who I am, but it doesn't own me. I want .... freedom.

      That's okay, you can ramble any old time :)

      Hugs back :) Not so brave, just have a great support system. I gather strength from my Daddy and from my friends - they're awesome.

    2. Daddy strength is awesomeness.

      "But it is a burden & I don't want to own it anymore. I want to blow it into the wind and be done with it. I want not to be rooted in that time and in that place. I want to be able to mean it when I say, it's part of my experience, but it's in the past. It's part of who I am, but it doesn't own me. I want... freedom."

      That reminds me of a "project" Monster had me do. We had had a long conversation one night at the kitchen table. It was a very big "ah-ha" night. Lots of feelings. Blame, doubts, shame, it was all there, but I never really realized the were. The next day after the kids went to sleep, he told me to write 3 letters. One for each person I held responsible for the bad things.

      After I wrote my letters, Monster built a small fire in our yard. He sat with me and had me toss the letters in one at a time. Each time we sat and watched as the fire took my words and turned them to ashes. The paper going from white to black and floating away. Monster told me that writing the letters was my way of getting the feelings out. The fire was my way of letting those feeling free. It sounds silly, but it did help.

      I am glad that you have a support system of people that can understand where you are coming from. That helps a lot. :)

    3. Doesn't sound silly at all. It makes perfect sense :) Fire is purification, it is cleansing. The Daddy Monster is a wise man...but you knew that. I'm gonna talk to my Daddy about it when he gets back.

      Yes, you all are awesome, and I'm grateful for all the wonderful things in my life, my kids, My Daddy & my very good friends. *hugs*

  3. Wow, June, I'm so sorry for your loss of innocence. It hurts my heart. As a mother, one of my biggest fears is something like this happening to one of my children. I cannot fathom that your own mother orchestrated this abuse. Your are so brave and strong, my friend! Thank you for sharing!

    1. Thank you, Subbie. You know the weirdest thing? If I read this happening to a child I'd be broken hearted and crying. I never cried over it until just recently, just before Daddy deployed. I would like very much for him to walk with me through the rest of it, because I want to be rid of it. My experience, I think, is why I am so fiercely protective of the innocence of my...of our children, and why I am studying to be a Family Counselor & Play Therapist.

    2. I hope you can be rid of the ugliest parts of this very soon. I'm sure your personal experience will help you tremendously as a counselor. Best wishes on your healing journey!


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