A letter, a monster, and perhaps a mistake...

The weeks that followed my meltdown with my mother were very difficult, to say the least.  I would love to say that the moment I told my mother the truth of my childhood she did everything she could to help me gain some distance from my father, to help protect me.  The truth is, we drove right back to the house where my father was.....like being thrown back to the wolves after finally escaping.  In the physical condition I was in, I seemed to have no alternatives but to go back and let my mom help me.  In the emotional condition I was in, I simply did not have the capability of standing up for myself.  While on the inside I was screaming and begging not to go back to that place where he was, all that seemed to reach the surface was a shallow whimper for help, a shallow whimper that went unheard.

For the next week and a half I became what felt like a prisoner in my own house.  I used every resource I had to get out of the house when my mom was gone to work.  When I was out of options, I did the next best thing, I hid!  I would literally lock myself in my sister's room, which just so happened to be the farthest, corner room upstairs.  There were times when I heard my father come home for lunch that I would lock the bedroom door, go into the bathroom and lock the bathroom door, and just sit and pretend I was not there until I knew for certain he was gone.  The very second I knew my mother was off of work, I was on the phone begging her to hurry home.  I did not want to be alone with that man.  

One night, my father came home after he had been out drinking, walked in the door half slurring and half stumbling, and begin to say some really ugly things to me.  Something inside of me snapped.  Once I was safely upstairs, I got on my computer and began to type a letter to my father.  In the wee hours of the morning I wrote a letter to my father that was fairly short and simple, but filled with some devestating truth.  I stayed awake the majority of the night...consequences of a full mind and a heavy heart.

The next day is a day that will forever be etched in my mind.  It honor of my 26th birthday, I decided to come face to face with evil, knowing the only way to defeat it was with truth.  With my mother in a nearby room, I walked into the living room and within feet of my father began opening up my heart to the same man who tried to destroy it.  It was not a scene that you would secretly want to be a fly on the wall for.  It was ugly.  When my father would no longer let me speak, I handed him the letter to read for himself.   In the midst of yelling and screaming, I sat with my eyes clamped shut paralyzed with fear, just hoping I would actually walk away with my own two feet.  By the grace of God, my father in a rage stormed out of the house that day.         

There is a quote by a man named Ted Dekker that says, "Evil only survives in the dark...the simplest way to deal with evil is to force it into the light of truth.  Expose its secret.  Sin thrives in the dungeon, but slap it on the table for all to see, and it withers rather quickly."  Though I came out of the confrontation with my father practically laying on the floor in the fetal position in a pool of my own tears, the evil that had surrounded me for so many years was withering in front of my own eyes, as painful as it was.

Though I do not regret for one second confronting my father, I would not recommend to anyone else to take the approach I took.  You see, confronting your abuser prematurely is often a mistake.  Though I mustered the courage to bring the truth to light, I put myself in a dangerous situation that day.  I had not yet stepped foot inside a professional counselor's office much less step foot inside a room face to face with the abuser.  With no support after this pivitol moment in my journey, I set myself up for a painful and isolating time.  Thankfully God's hand of protection and ever present support was with me, giving me everything I needed to get through this situation.