I realize that writing this was childish, because that is what happens sometimes during a tantrum. The flood gates open, you are berated by the supporters of imperfect people. The #metoo movement came and went, but I said nothing. People who knew expected me to say nothing.
I’m no longer going live in shame. I was a child longing for a Father, and uncle Eric filled the void He touched and caressed me for years.
I just wanted to be loved, and I got it. So there it is, the truth. I had sex with my uncle. I wish I could I take it back. I wish my Father could have protected me. When does a prey become obvious to a predator.? There are no real answers. Uncle Eric has no kids. Nor do I. I can tell you he knows me, my panties , oh, and “only your uncle gets to touch you there”
The difficult part, the guilt that stays forever is that it felt so good. To be loved, to feel like an adult, taken seriously, then go sit and well, you get it. The fantasy never goes away. we will spend our lives together, sail around the world. That feeling of love a girl misses, even the woman wants.
I should have elaborated. I have always wanted my Father back, I tried to bring him back in almost all relationships. I would have killed myself to be with him. I tried, several times.
Needless to say, I should have told you the whole truth. I craved his love and touch.
My Father died in an airplane crash when I was almost 7. I just missed him and wanted a strong man to make me feel safe. I have everything to get him back!
A Warrior Writes 