By Carissa Magras
As any little girl, I loved my daddy very much. He was a high school athletic coach. He was funny. Everyone admired him and I was proud to call him dad. We even had our own little secret that no one else knew: From the time I was in Kindergarten up until my senior year, this man who Creation gave to protect and care for me, sexually and emotionally abused me.
Turning 18 brought about a previously unknown confidence and independence. Suddenly, I was determined to protect myself from my dad. I no longer wanted to be a victim, but I still wanted my dad in my life. So for the next 7 years I limited our interactions so that my dad and I were never alone together. I built massive internal walls, and worked hard to keep the abuse at bay. With a level of alertness liken to that of an air traffic controller, I was constantly watching and listening, painfully cautious and on-edge.
One day my husband was talking to a friend on the phone about a recent situation in which my dad lashed out at us for moving away due to a job change. “I’ve never seen him act this way”, Brandon said to his friend. Without a thought I immediately exclaimed, “You have never seen him this way because I haven’t let you.”