The Sins of Their Mothers and Fathers

Growing up I was unaware that my life was different than the norm. I had a wonderful mother and a great dad. He was my step dad but I was two when they got married. He was the only father I ever knew. My mother had been sexually abused as a child by her father. She had repressed these memories so I do not remember knowing of this until I was around six. Her father had been a preacher and took all that was supposed to be holy and good and abused it. He was also sexually abused by his mother and grandmother. He in turn passed his damage onto and wielded it at my mother and aunt. A father should be a source of comfort and acceptance to a child. He should be her protector. My mother never had this comfort. She made a decision that she would not pass down his damage onto me. She was my protector and my comfort. She would hold me and kiss me. She could not change the damage done to her but she could change the possibility of damage being placed on me. She was my warrior. My father was also abused. He was abused by verbal and physical abuse. Back then it was not considered abuse to beat your child with the buckle end of the belt. It was widely proclaimed that children should be seen not heard. How can anyone be seen if they are not heard? Because of the way he was raised he never kissed me. He was afraid that it would be inappropriate. He said he loved me but he never said he was proud of me. I had OCD at that time as well, so I was very sensitive. I still am. I wanted so desperately to be loved, to be accepted, to make him proud. He would hold me and spend time with me but he never kissed me. I have two memories of him ever kissing me. One was when he thought I was my mom sleeping, we had switched beds, and he gave me a peck on the lips. The other time I had realized that he was the tooth fairy. I told him I wanted a dollar coin and a kiss on the cheek from the tooth fairy.  I should have no memories of kisses from him because there were to many to be remembered. I should have been Eskimo kissed and butterfly kissed. I was a child and I needed the one reassurance that someone loves you. I could kiss his cheek but he could not kiss mine.It should not have been uncomfortable because his family never kissed him. His parents were different.His parents couldn't stand me. I was a redhead, I was too sensitive, and worst of all I was not his. My blood line was not good enough. They looked at me with distaste like I was a bug to be squished under their boots. They tolerated my presence but there was no love there. A child can feel when they are not wanted or loved. It was blatantly obvious. His other daughter was a saint and I was crap that someone had accidentally stepped in. Only his parents treated me this way. To him and in my mind he and I were father and daughter. He had been taught never to go against his parents. He unconsciously ignored their abuse towards me. Their looks and their remarks went unnoticed by him. They hurt me dearly  as well as the fact that he couldn't see the pain they were afflicting on me. My mother stood up for me but she was also an outcast. I have to wonder what damage was passed onto them that they could not see how they were damaging their families. What made them feel no sympathy towards others. What made me so vile that I needed to be broken down time and time again? All I really wanted was to be accepted and loved. I tried so hard to make them see me as good and kind. I so dearly wanted them to be proud of me. I tried harder and harder to be as good as his other daughter but it never made any difference. I was tainted and therefore never going to be accepted. He passed the damage they had casted on him down onto me. He was not mean or abusive to me but he was never my protector. He never stood up for me. When they divorced he would have me every other weekend until he got a girlfriend that disliked me as well. I was a sign of his past and she wanted to rewrite it without me. She would scream at me and make ugly remarks and still he never stood for me. My mother put a stop to that and so he didn't want to see me anymore. He later got remarried to a nice lady and we are on better terms, but the relationship will never be whole. I have heard that the same sex person in your family is your most important role model but I am not so sure that is totally true. I have met more women with father issues that are in broken relationships. We tend to go for men that we think give us what we never got from our fathers. We tend to marry men that turn out to be similar to our fathers. We tend to marry abusers.The damage begins again. I was once lost from my father but now I am healed andif I am not healed than I'm going to fake it until I make it. My father's damage will not be passed down to my children. I married a man that gives everything to our sons. He loves them. He kisses them. He stands up for them. He is their protector. I kiss them silly. I tell them I am proud of them. They know without a doubt that they are accepted. They are loved. They have the right to be seen and heard. I will end this cycle of damage. I, like my mother, will stop this particular inheritance from my family from being passed down. We are one and we are going to raise whole children not broken ones. This I promise.