Perhaps I should have titled this "Not forcing a child to visit the NCP: What was potentially avoided"...
Disclaimer: I am in no way attempting to imply that my personal story is universal, or even common, but given some of the recent discussions in other threads about "forcing" children to spend overnights with the NCP, I decided it needed to be shared.
Warning: "Mild" sexual abuse is mentioned.
My parents divorced when I was about 7, maybe 8. For a few years, I spent the standard every other weekend and summers at my father's house.
I never really liked it (I felt, in my words at the time, "like a ping-pong ball"), but never really resisted. Until the day I refused to go again. I was incredibly lucky (as you'll see below) that even though my mother did not know or understand why I suddenly said "no more", she never forced me to go back. And, that my father never took the matter to court to force her to force me.
Why did I suddenly refuse? Because my father French kissed me.
I was prepubescent, just on the cusp of adolescence. On the Saturday of my last weekend visit, he came back from running an errand (I had been left home alone) and instead of the usual peck of a kiss hello, he grabbed me into a hug and shoved his tongue into my mouth.
I was thoroughly disgusted, pushed him away and said "gross! stop!". I crossed over to the corner of the living room where my bed was kept at the time and stayed there except for meals and did not say another word to him until 5pm Sunday (the earliest I though I "was allowed" to go home on weekend visits), when I said "I want to go home now." I said nothing else to him for months.
He took me home. Tried to talk to me in the car about random stuff. I went in and that was it. I can't remember if I told my mother I wasn't going back that night, or just before the next scheduled visit. At the time, I never told her what had happened, and only said "because I don't want to" and other vague reasons about missing friends and the like or "feeling like a ping-pong ball".
She listened to me and didn't make me go. And didn't pressure me for "valid reasons".
I did not spend overnights with him until I was 18 and had my own car and was able to drive myself there and leave whenever I wanted. (I did, however, talk to him on the phone eventually and began going to dinner or other non-overnight stuff with him and his wonderful wife...)
I did not tell anyone in my family until nearly 20 years later after my daughter was born. My mother and step-mother were both extremely surprised and shocked when I did tell them.
I truly believe that I dodged a major bullet that day. A happy combination of circumstances allowed me to do so:
I shudder to think how things might have evolved if I had not felt I had the right to refuse, and/or if my mother had felt a need to force me to continue seeing him "for my own good because daughters need relationships with their fathers". Because I could never, ever, ever have told her the real reason at the time--and was still scared 20 years later when I did finally tell her.
As it was, I came out of the whole thing feeling empowered (something bad happened and I made it stop all by myself) and trusted by my mother (she listened and acted without judging my reasons).
Needless to say, however, my own daughter will never be left alone with my father until she is an adult (or very nearly so, since the dangerous age is "pre-pubescence and early adolescence" for my father).
There, I've said it. For whatever it's worth.
Disclaimer: I am in no way attempting to imply that my personal story is universal, or even common, but given some of the recent discussions in other threads about "forcing" children to spend overnights with the NCP, I decided it needed to be shared.
Warning: "Mild" sexual abuse is mentioned.
My parents divorced when I was about 7, maybe 8. For a few years, I spent the standard every other weekend and summers at my father's house.
I never really liked it (I felt, in my words at the time, "like a ping-pong ball"), but never really resisted. Until the day I refused to go again. I was incredibly lucky (as you'll see below) that even though my mother did not know or understand why I suddenly said "no more", she never forced me to go back. And, that my father never took the matter to court to force her to force me.
Why did I suddenly refuse? Because my father French kissed me.
I was prepubescent, just on the cusp of adolescence. On the Saturday of my last weekend visit, he came back from running an errand (I had been left home alone) and instead of the usual peck of a kiss hello, he grabbed me into a hug and shoved his tongue into my mouth.
I was thoroughly disgusted, pushed him away and said "gross! stop!". I crossed over to the corner of the living room where my bed was kept at the time and stayed there except for meals and did not say another word to him until 5pm Sunday (the earliest I though I "was allowed" to go home on weekend visits), when I said "I want to go home now." I said nothing else to him for months.
He took me home. Tried to talk to me in the car about random stuff. I went in and that was it. I can't remember if I told my mother I wasn't going back that night, or just before the next scheduled visit. At the time, I never told her what had happened, and only said "because I don't want to" and other vague reasons about missing friends and the like or "feeling like a ping-pong ball".
She listened to me and didn't make me go. And didn't pressure me for "valid reasons".
I did not spend overnights with him until I was 18 and had my own car and was able to drive myself there and leave whenever I wanted. (I did, however, talk to him on the phone eventually and began going to dinner or other non-overnight stuff with him and his wonderful wife...)
I did not tell anyone in my family until nearly 20 years later after my daughter was born. My mother and step-mother were both extremely surprised and shocked when I did tell them.
I truly believe that I dodged a major bullet that day. A happy combination of circumstances allowed me to do so:
- I was not desperate for a father's attention or love
- my father was not an active predator, but only just starting to feel some attraction to pedophilia at the time (i.e. impulsive on his part, not meditated or anything he had ever done before)
- I was sufficiently shocked and grossed out to react with a strong "no" and generally self-confident enough to "punish" him by refusing to speak to him and refusing to go back
- and, most importantly, my mother did not judge the validity of my "reasons" at the time, she just listened to them and acted on my refusal
I shudder to think how things might have evolved if I had not felt I had the right to refuse, and/or if my mother had felt a need to force me to continue seeing him "for my own good because daughters need relationships with their fathers". Because I could never, ever, ever have told her the real reason at the time--and was still scared 20 years later when I did finally tell her.
As it was, I came out of the whole thing feeling empowered (something bad happened and I made it stop all by myself) and trusted by my mother (she listened and acted without judging my reasons).
Needless to say, however, my own daughter will never be left alone with my father until she is an adult (or very nearly so, since the dangerous age is "pre-pubescence and early adolescence" for my father).
There, I've said it. For whatever it's worth.
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