No one understood the cruelty, abuse, and neglect of my father. Especially, not me.
I escaped a burning house that no one else could see was on fire. No one could see hell on the lush half-acre lawn in a suburban town full of doctors, lawyers, and Frank Lloyd Wright houses. No one understood the cruelty, abuse, and neglect of my father. Especially, not me.
Why am I writing this? What is the point of one more abuse story out in the world? What am I trying to achieve by labeling my dad as a narcissist and abuser?
The answer is simple: Power. It’s a power play. I’m going straight for hotels on Park Place and Boardwalk. All it had to cost me was my inheritance. I think that’s a bargain, don’t you?
Whether or not anyone reads my story, the important thing is that I wrote it and shared it with the world. If I can admit that I am a victim and survivor of child abuse, then I can do anything.
I can run a business. I can run multiple businesses, actually. I can write a book. I can launch a creative confidence program at a local high school, while I do state lobbying to reduce child poverty in Washington State. And I can get treated like a celebrity when I travel to the Keys or Costa Rica. I can live a full life, and I can be a model for the next generation. I have the power to live out all my dreams right now. All it had to cost me was my inheritance.
I don’t have to settle for playing the role of the “good daughter” just to cash out in a decade or two. I’m playing to be the winner and I need hotels on Park Place and Boardwalk this turn. My abuser can’t afford my silence anymore.
Here’s my million-dollar story
I am a victim and survivor of abuse. My father was cruel and did horrific things. He was so good at gaslighting and manipulating that I may never know the extent of it all. He was so good at keeping on a mask so that nobody except my siblings and mom knew his other side. To everyone else, he could be a successful, generous, church-going, family man and doctor. No one understood the animosity we had for such a hard-working, present father and husband. It was just like he wanted: we were the problem, not him.
But he was the problem. My life would have been better if my mom had the confidence to leave him, but she didn’t. I finally have the confidence to leave him. I’m doing what my mom didn’t think she could do. I’m finishing her story, like it was my destiny or something.
On my next turn, I’m buying hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place.
THE END
It’s scary to understand your true worth. It’s scary to accept that you are entitled to a better life than the one your abuser condemned you to. Literally and metaphorically, abuse destroys the mind, body and soul. It’s scary to walk away from an abuser who knows just how to play you. An abuser who would rather land on “Go to Jail, Go Directly to Jail” than visit his daughter’s beautiful commercial properties at the end of the block, the legacy she built for herself without him.
My survival story isn’t as hard as most, but I want people to know it’s possible to give up something comfortable, something they never imagined they could give up, and see that it was actually deadweight that had been holding them back the entire time. Now they’re free, and everything just feels lighter.
My life doesn’t have to include settling for abuse, and I couldn’t tell you how valuable that is. It’s probably worth a lot more than my inheritance though.