I’ve waited a long time to make this post because well… it’s personal. You see, I believe we all have things we go through that shape who we become as an individual, our beliefs, morals, etc. This is why I am… the way I am.
Part of me doesn’t want to write about this because after over 30 years of it being a major influence on my life it finally came to an end. I don’t want to give it more attention than necessary as I was finally able to move on. However, I also realize that my story may help someone else. So, if it helps only one person…it will be well worth the effort that it takes to write about it here.
To save myself a little grief I am going to copy & paste what I wrote on MySpace July 23, 2009. So here goes:
The picture of the man you are looking at is my biological sperm donor aka BSD. I didn’t officially meet him until I was 18 years old. By the time I was 19 – I was done & wanted nothing to do with him. He had always been in and out of prison. He was notoriously known for stealing cars. However, that all changed 13 years ago.
I had been living in Hannibal, Missouri at the time this all came to a head. I was at work one night and my roommate and I had a fight over the phone about something so I went home to clear stuff up with her. I was gone, from work, maybe a total of 10 minutes. As soon as I walked back in the door, the phone was ringing, the staff were acting panicked & I was standing there wondering what was going on.
One of them said, “It’s her, it’s your mom” as they handed me the phone. When I put the receiver to my ear I could hear the sheer fear in her voice. “It’s your father. He’s threatening to kill you and on the way to Hannibal now.” All I could manage to get out was, “WHAT?!” as I turned around and saw 6 police cars pull up at a fast pace and slamming on their brakes.
I stood there completely & utterly stupified.
That’s when they, and my mom, were telling me what had transpired. My BSD was angry, very angry, that I refused to talk to him. He didn’t understand why I wanted nothing to do with him. I first talked to him at 15 years old and then met him at 18, as mentioned before. I can not begin to tell you the amount of times I had been pulled out of school (elementary, middle and high school) telling me that he had escaped and was making kidnapping threats. Even one time my friend & I, Melinda, were walking home from 5th grade class… I noticed a lot of police cars in front of our apartment building. The phone, again, was ringing and it was my mom telling me to stay away from the windows and to answer the door for no one. He had jumped out of the 3rd story window of the Hillsboro Jail.
Because of him I had spent more than half of my life looking over my shoulder. I tried to fix it by letting him in my life. I told him, when I was 18, “Stay out of trouble for one year and I’ll start giving you my trust”; and he did. In fact, on the one year anniversary of him staying out of trouble I had made a huge dinner to celebrate. For the first time in my life I gave him a hug and called him “Dad”. One hour later he received a phone call and had to leave stating he would be back. 3am that following morning I received a phone call telling me that he had been arrested for holding someone up by gunpoint.
I gave him the benefit of a doubt as he claimed his innocence. His ‘innocence’ showed up in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch around a year later in a written confession to Bill McClellan in the Everyday section. That was the day I ‘wrote him off’ and quit talking to him.
And that was why he was angry. That is why he found it justifiable enough to want me dead.
For about 4 days I lived under police protection. In my home, on the street, down the street and then some. I refused to stop working so they sat with me at work, outside of my work, etc. Then they apprehended him. It was over. The longest 4 days of my entire life.
But it was when I discovered the charges that my stomach starting spinning in 360’s. His charges were raping a 15 (age I was when we first started talking) and an 18 (age I was when we first, officially, met) girls on two separate incidents. I didn’t put that together until later when speaking with a counselor. We assume (albeit I feel it’s a safe assumption) that they were more than likely hate crimes against myself and since he couldn’t get to me… you get the idea.
Imagine carrying around that guilt. I have never been able to get those girls out of my mind…and it’s been 13 years ago.
During these 13 years I have kept up on where he is incarcerated at, kept him from making contact with me (directly or indirectly; he used to be put in the hole for any attempts) and preparing for the day he will be released.
My fear is simple. Each time he has been released his crime is more severe; so much for rehabilitation. He always had a fall-back – his mother. But shortly after he was arrested for raping those girls his mother died. He has no where to go and nothing left to lose. So, I fear that he will make an attempt on my life and I have a valid reason to believe so.
It’s not that I don’t think I can protect myself from him. I just don’t want to have to go through it… again. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of him. I keep waiting for that phone call telling me, “He died. He’s gone. It’s over” and it never does. I feel like I’ve waited my entire life just to breathe. To be done with this and enjoy a ‘normal’ life with no looking over my shoulder.
Now to catch you up-to-date:
He was released in June 2010.
Shortly after he was released he started sending me messages via his sisters Facebook account to my Facebook account. There were a total of 3 in August of 2010. The first one was to inform me that he was out. I don’t even remember what it says exactly, and I don’t feel inclined to search it out in my inbox – I just ignored it. The next one said something about my profile picture, “You don’t look as happy as you used to“. So I changed it to one that showed… “Oh, but I am!”, yet I didn’t respond. Then the next one came & said something like, “That’s more like it“. I just let it go & again didn’t respond. I knew the moment I responded the more he would push.
Back in December of 2010 I received information that he had a stroke. That stroke left him unable to take care of himself. While I will never say karma stepped in to prevent him from harming another human being I will say… it sure made you believe that was the case. A couple of my cousins sent me messages on Facebook letting me know that he was requesting to see me. I was even sent a picture in an attempt to make me feel guilty. A failed attempt, but this is the standard for SOME (not all) SOME of that family.
The “Guilt Picture” sent to me
I thought about it. I would have loved to have asked him questions and get those answers I tried getting out of him, years prior, as to why he did the things he did. However, I knew anything he said would never be taken as truth because he lied to me about every thing imaginable. He said so much negative stuff about his own blood family and yet those same family were there supporting him while on his death bed. Things he did to them, behind their backs, and there they were…supporting him. Perhaps they forgave him. I get it. Forgiveness isn’t about the one who failed you – it’s about you. I could forgive, but… I most certainly would never forget.
The following May my biological father died.
I did cry for him. No matter the amount of evil that I feel he had inside of him he was still my biological father. I did know him even if only briefly. I was also confused, but confirmed by professionals (I have friends in that field that I go to) that my reaction was completely normal. That was nice to hear because I have to tell you… that was a TOUGH pill to swallow.
Not only did I mourn, even if only for a couple of hours, I also felt the biggest relief I have ever felt in my entire life. While I knew I was safe I was growing extremely tired of looking over my shoulder and being prepared for his next threat. Living with your guard up for so much of your life is hard to contend with.
After I cried, after the relief set in I was ready to put this chapter of my life behind me. Whatever he did in this lifetime is now between him and God; not me, him & God. Just because he was my biological father does not mean I HAVE to care. If that were the case, that would have meant he was just as entitled to care about me for the 30+ years prior to his death. He didn’t. His actions during all of those years confirmed that.
Perhaps that’s why I didn’t find it upsetting that his sister decided not to include my name as ‘those he left behind’, but oddly included my mother (with her first AND last name completely misspelled). That just goes to show you the type of mentality that runs through some of that bloodline. I’m sure I’M the bad person, from their perspective, because I stood up to him. And I think they were for condoning it. My actions didn’t cause him to do anything bad to anyone. Condoning bad behavior did – he thought it was okay and that everyone would forgive him.
The best I could offer up was to move on & forgive. However, I know in my heart that I will never forget the things my BSD did to me and to countless others.
The man in the above pictures is precisely why I am the way I am. Exactly the reason why I have so much compassion for others. I am his polar opposite and yet I am his biological daughter. (This is where I throw in that I’m overly grateful for the amazing family – my mother’s side – that I was raised by).
I have always felt as if I need to right his wrongs and I always will. I am a victims advocate for a reason. I am a children’s advocate for a reason. I fight for those who can not or will not stand up for themselves. I am the product of evil, but I am stronger than evil… I am better than that.
I was once damaged goods, because I felt a sense of self pity for what I (and my mother) endured by him. I was once angry because of the self pity for what the life I was given. Yet, over time I learned that if those things wouldn’t have happened I wouldn’t be who I am today (nor would my mother be who she is today); that which doesn’t kill you…
I am NOT a victim. I am a human being who knows I can make a positive change in this world just by using the voice I was given, even in the face of adversity, letting common sense and compassion dictate my reaction while keeping my selfishness in tact, living life by no regrets, standing up for what I believe in, fighting off those that I don’t and fearing nothing in the process. Instant reaction will generally guide down the wrong path. Thinking things through will always lead to greener pastures.
I hope my BSD finds peace with what ever troubled his soul that caused him to do the things he did while here on Earth. If there is such a thing as reincarnation I hope he comes back and rights his wrongs; I know I can’t literally do this for him, but it will always be MY guide to do what is right. As a direct result of my decision I had to walk away from those in that family who are good and it was very hard to do, but it’s for the best. It would cause entirely too much conflict & drama otherwise. We all deserve peace and some people aren’t happy unless they are destroying others peace because they, themselves, can’t live with their own guilt & regrets.
One life: Live. Laugh. Love.
