The Storm Began Brewing

Like any young girl, at age 11, I was starting to develop. I guess my dad took notice, because he started commenting on it, but not in the pleasant ways a kind father would. And I remember the first time it happened. Funny how you remember the first time things like this happen.

I was standing on our pool deck with my brother and my dad was going to take a picture of us. My dad was laughing because, unbeknownst to me, my brother was reaching behind me to pinch my bum. Out of the blue my dad says, "Your headlights are showing!" And I stormed off the deck of the pool and into the house.

And for the next 10-12 years, I put up with the verbal abuse of my father with my mother never stopping him. And we were Christians at the time! So imagine what it would have been like if we had not been.

Other things that were shot at me included:

• "You'd be better off riding him than sitting beside him! (if I sat beside a boy)"
• "If you weren't a Christian or didn't have epilepsy, you'd be sleeping on the streets with every guy that came along, pregnant with 3 kids!"
• If I wore a skirt that was too short for his liking I'd here something to the effect of him being able to see all the way to my pussy.
• Women's "beavers" were often mentioned and joked about.
• Over the shoulder boulder holders and such were also joked about.
• And sex was always a topic to be joked about, made fun of, and shamed.

And if this wasn't bad enough, to deal with this as a child, the next year, age 12, we went to Toronto because my mom was a hair model for my cousin's hairdressing exam and it took place there. So while mom was modeling, dad took my brother and I to the CN Tower for the first time.

We were all so excited because the Tower was still new. We got up and it was our turn to get on the elevator. I stepped on first and before I knew what was happening, I was grabbed and pinned to the back of the elevator and a mans pants were rubbing all up and down the front of my chest and body. It was disgusting and I was crying. Nobody on the elevator did anything. I think dad did grab him and told him not to touch any other woman on the elevator. But he didn't say anything about his daughter.

After the ordeal was over, I felt sick. I felt so ashamed, so lonely and so frightened. I just wanted to die. Put me in a corner where I can curl up and die was how I felt. But I couldn't do that at the Tower, so I reached out to my father for a hug, but he pushed me away...literally. He wanted nothing to do with me. And the rest of the day, that was evident. He and my brother played video games, ate their lunch and enjoyed themselves, but to me it's all a blur, because I was so frightened, alone and unsure of what had just happened and nobody seemed to care.

Dad made me promise not to tell mom, but of course when I saw her, I broke and cried and everything spilled out. She was upset that security or police were not contacted, but in the end, nothing was done about it. And my seizures started to flare up again, little by little; and nobody understood.

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