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Pained

23 Sep
“A life lived in constant pain, suppressing hurts and misinterpreted shame is no life lived at all!” (LHR)
 
I hurt for you! I cry for you! My heart breaks and bleeds for you!
 
I wonder, how many people have died taking with them secrets that drove them to an early grave? Secrets that weren’t theirs to even keep and if only those secrets were revealed they would still be here… Freed!
 
I hurt for you! I cry for you! My heart breaks and bleeds for you!
 
My heart is heavy…

Grateful…

15 Sep

When you just have to drop an impromptu testimony…
God I’m so grateful… I have journeyed a far way… Thankful…

Journey with me…
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I Wonder…

25 Aug

‘My father died not knowing his daughters were sexually abused as children’.

I often wonder, had my dad known I/we were sexually violated, how different would my/our life’s be? Dad passed on April 2, 2017, and I’m unsure as to why I’ve been plagued with all these ‘I wonder’ questions since.  It pains me to my core that I never had much of a  relationship with my father and though it’s much too late for the blame game or to get needed answers, I believe with every fiber of my being that had he been a better father my wounds would have not cut so deep, the scars would have healed and I would not have been plagued with the damning unworthiness I feel.

My reality, I was never a daddy’s little girl and I still suffer the rancid residue of being judged and ostracized by him. Truth is, I have convinced myself that he did the best he could with what he was given BUT, I am upset that dad didn’t consider me worthy or special enough to change his mindset, his beliefs to ensure that his little girls were loved beyond his limited perception of the value of the opposite sex. Daddy could NOT have stopped the molestation, but I know the effects would not have been as long lasting or life altering had he been a better parent.

The past few days have been emotionally draining. I spent hours trying to figure out the source of my discomfort, in an attempt to lift my spirits I listened to music, kept myself busy, attended meetings, did my usual runs but nothing seemed to work. I knew this was serious when my go to, my children, my boys usual antics didn’t work. I realized only then that no amount of avoiding, suppressing, evading or side-stepping my emotions was going to make these feelings vanish, I gave in and decided to sit with it. The cause for my uneasiness was my dad, thoughts of him swirled in my head, I miss him terribly but this wasn’t the usual ‘think of dad, sulk for a moment, shed a tear or two type momentary deal, this was deeper.

I thought about the relationship my dad and I had over the years. Dad was very much present for the formative years, besides the fact he worked extremely hard I got to see him daily, he was home every night mostly before bedtime but our relationship strained and lacked all the key components of a  great father-daughter relationship.

I am the first child (supposedly) born to my father. Dad did not hesitate to let everyone know how disappointed he was ‘because I was a girl’. Dad was from an era, a generation that viewed women as weak, worthless and disposable, he was born to an extremely sexist father that did not hesitate to verbalize his disdain towards the ‘weaker’ sex. How I wished and longed for my dad to see my worth and to consider me valuable, special and irreplaceable but unfortunately he was too broken and so damaged himself he was blind to the fact girls/women are worth far more that being barefoot, pregnant and totally dependent on men.

I often wonder, what would have been the result of my dad knowing we were taken advantage of? Knowing dads temperament, I do believe this saga would have had a very different ending. Since going public about my ordeal, one of the most frequently asked questions from folks that knew my father well is “was your dad ever told, did he know” and with each “No” the response “I figure” almost certainly follows. Folks that knew my father well (or so they thought) still believe had Mr. Rhone known about the abuse of his daughter, my sister and others after her would not have shared this horrid experience, chances are my grandmother would have been widowed some twenty something years ago.

Daddy was a licensed fire arm carrier and he was not afraid to pull his weapon, in fact, he was considered somewhat trigger happy. Dad was a responsible gun carrier but he was also known to have a short fuse, he was a no-nonsense, outspoken, no bars hold, prideful person that was also arrogant and thrived on the praise and recognition of others. Dad was well-known and highly respected within the parish of St. Thomas, his community and neighboring towns, chances are a murder would have been committed if only for the sake of saving face.

I loved my dad wholeheartedly and spent the greater part of my life seeking the approval and validation of this man. To the outside world he was a stand up guy, a man to emulate and adore. He was a hard working, determined, go-getter, family oriented (or believed to be) but the truth is, dad  had his demons to contend with and was riddled with insecurities, so much so that sexism and classism oozed from his pours and slipped oh too easily from the folds of his lips. It took me a lifetime to understand my mothers reasoning for instructing me not to tell daddy what had happened to me, because she feared he would do to me/us what he did to her by using the abuse against me/us.

My father was from a generation plagued with the belief that a woman’s worth is secondary to that of a man, that we were only created for certain things including being servants to the ‘dominant sex’. It was that hard and fast belief that led to the constant reminders that I was secondary and could not be compared to my brothers. My self worth was tarnished and tainted by my dad, a realization I came to years ago but somehow weighed heavily this week.

I wonder; if only dad had the courage to break free from the thoughts that held him captive, freeing himself from the mental slavery that kept him bound; relinquishing the belief of a superior sex. If only MY dad had been open to experience love, being willing to accept love, to see love, to feel and to be love; if only he had possessed the ability to love unconditionally like a father should love, adore, protect and  \shield his daughter, I do believe my life would have turned out different.

I would be foolish to think my dad being a better father would have somehow prevented the abuse from happening No! A pedeophile is a pedeophile and will remain a pedeophile if not helped! I do believe however, if daddy had been more of a loving, reassuring, accepting and affectionate father, had he possess the qualities of patience and understanding, had he been able to instill, reassure, nurture and cultivate a strong sense of being within me, if only he had the capacity to extend or open his heart to his daughter/s he would have been told and years of internalized anguish would have been minimized and my decimated self-esteem rebuilt.

I wonder; why dad, I can’t help but wonder why?! But, it’s too late now and though I am saddened at the fact you couldn’t see ME beyond your own hang ups and insecurities, I try to understand and will cling to the belief that you still loved ME with all that you had. Daddy, I just wish you were able to see ME…

In the midst of life there is death…

8 May

Postings to my Youtube channel https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC4zuyxOC9foTd_Si_9AISZw  will resume shortly… Please feel free to subscribe, follow, comment, share…

 

 

A Daughter’s Heart Break… Part 2

19 Apr
Horace-Rhone-1491567206

I LOVE YOU DADDY!

There’s been a knot in my chest since the 2nd of April 2017, I’ve had several nightmares since then. I am uneasy, I keep replaying calling you, begging for you to wake up dad, to grant me the opportunity to say a proper and final goodbye. I have shed countless tears in private as well as publicly, my go to (writing) doesn’t seem to help much. I was unable to read my tribute to you on Thursday and though Rick and Julie offered to read it, I just couldn’t, they were my final words to you and I wanted to say them. (I will soon) I write now with tears streaming down my face, still questioning, besides the fact that you are dad and I love you, why does your passing bother me so?! Your passing have unearthed all types of emotions and left me in a state of quandary!

Death has a way of forcing us to reflect, whether on unfulfilled desires, unattained dreams, unmet goals, there is nothing like the passing of a friend, an associate or loved one that propels us to put things into perspective and compels us to search our hearts, question our motives, reignite passions, release or let go off old grudges, and drives us to be more compassionate, considerate, forgiving, loving and kind etc. even if it’s just for a moment…

For me however, this is really not the case. Dads passing somehow made me revert, it’s unfathomable, somewhat irritating and renders me cheerless. I remain in a  somber/melancholy like mood. I feel like a five year old child!

I find myself pining away, needing to feel my dad’s arms around me and him telling me just how much he loves me, the irony is, I NEVER received that type of affection as a little girl! Hence my confusion, (something for the professionals to explain) I have spent each quiet moment, no matter how brief, searching the crevasse of my heart trying to find an explanation to the emptiness I feel. I am relieved that dad is no longer uncomfortable or in pain, I’m content that he is resting peacefully, but much to my consternation I’m left feeling shaken, bothered and extremely emotional. WHY?! I have questioned my current state of being many times, I have yet to sit in total serenity and surrender to this feeling, but I’m beginning to make sense of it.

Every little girl wishes to be daddy’s little angel, the apple of his eye, the one that causes him to see reason, to as much as force him to change his life. Every little girl yearns to feel protected, shielded by her 1st knight in amour, her father. A dad emboldens his daughter, teaches her values, reminding her of her worth and how special a gift she is to the earth. Every girl wants to know that there is one man whose love is impenetrable towards her and regardless of what happens she is loved unconditionally, I’m no different. I LOVED my dad, and I know he LOVED me, but, we butted heads. It took us both a long time to see and unfortunately this is apart of my uneasiness and my query,  I am not at all certain DAD was able to see me…

TO BE CONTINUED…

A Daughter’s Heart Break… Part 1

5 Apr

I struggle to make sense of it all. Death is inevitable I know. He was 81 years old, had less than perfect health, often incoherent in the afternoons (dementia does that), had a few aches and pain, hunched over from osteoporosis, but, outside of that he was fine, or so I believed. He lived his allotted time according to Psalms 90 vs 10, so why, why does it bother me so?!

It’s been three days since my dad Mr. Horace (Lord L.M.B.) Rhone passed. I know it would have happened eventually, but my heart, my mind, my head, my stomach, is in knots.  Yes, he was a parent, a loved one, my dad, I should be distraught, and yes, it’s only been a few days therefore the pain of his loss is fresh, it’s overwhelming, but there is something more to it.

That knot I have been experiencing since, I now realize is as a result of my wanting to talk to my dad and had decided to do so on my return from my trip. I had it all planned. I  return Friday, went to dress rehearsal that night, woke up Saturday and met my obligations, attending the workshops I was asked and agreed to do, after which, head to New Britain to do the play “You Reap What You Sow” then Sunday, Sunday I would spend the afternoon with dad and my boys…. but,  It didn’t quite workout that way…

Now I’m left with all the questions swirling in my head, the one I most needed the answer to plays over and over in my mind. I’m almost certain daddy would not have had the perfect answer for me but I needed to ask, I needed to hear his response and regardless of what his response would have been, I was mentally prepared to accept  but…

To be continued…