He wasn’t what he seemed

Since I watched the Allen V Farrow documentary earlier this week I’ve had some awful memories on my mind. Memories of Don. Memories I had locked away but they are back. Let’s get them out of my head and out into the void.

I’m going to preface this by saying how guilty I feel saying any of this. He is dead. And after all he did you would think, why would you feel guilty? Because the little girl who so badly wanted a dad and a happy life locked this shit up. She didn’t want to believe any of this was real. But god damn it I refuse to let this shit stay locked up any more.

The first thing I want to talk about is no one knew the reality of who Don was. Anyone that knew him just loved him. He had this huge personality (for such a short little pervert). He was well respected in and outside of work. He hosted weekly movie nights at our house for his coworkers/friends. He made the world think he was someone completely different. No one he knew would ever believe the truth because they wouldn’t want to. He was that loved.

But the man lived this double life. He cheated on his wife with my mother and this other woman. Annie and Jackie had both told me they thought he cheated on my mom with that same woman. And I’d put money that he cheated when she wasn’t able to walk anymore.

But let’s start with when we moved to CT. My mom’s MS started getting bad and she was losing her mobility. I was the one who had to clean the house. Don would walk around while I cleaned calling me Cinderella. I had to clean everything. Including his bathroom. I had to put things away he had left out. One fateful day I opened a drawer to put away something in the bathroom and found all these weird looking things. I was 12 and didn’t know what they were. I don’t know how I found out but it was a drawer FULL of dildos and vibrators. Disgusting, dirty(literally dirty) dildos and vibrators. I’m not going to go into details because no one else deserves to know what was in there. Just know that it was awful.

I’m going to get off topic because I want to make sure I fit this in. When my grandmother died she left me her VCR. She knew something was off about Don and wanted me to be able to stay in my room and watch my Disney movies. Well. When we moved to CT I was 12. My VCR was my one thing from Nanny I had. Cut to me vaccuming the stairs in our town house. Don and my mother told me to stay out of my room until they finished in there. They used my VCR and bed to watch porn and fuck. They used Nanny’s VCR to watch porn. And had sex in my bed. Did you catch it that time? This happened more than once. I knew it because he was loud on purpose. Gross, traumatizing shit. Coming out of my bedroom.

The porn. The fucking porn. I don’t even know where to start. Before there were DVDs and after VHS there was a small window where laserdisc was a thing. Record size DVDs. Don loved all the new tech as it came out so he had to have a laserdisc player. Well. Just like VHS and DVD they made laserdisc porn. And just like VHS and DVD Don collected it. Porn was in every cabinet in the house. Mixed in with regular movies in certain places. So if he told me to go get a movie I’d have to go through a stack and see all of the gross shit he had. He collected furniture too. Big bureaus. And he had one in my room. It wasn’t mine and none of my stuff was in it but it was in my room. In it were some of his laserdisc collection of porn. He would come in my room to get it. All the time.

Now our rooms shared a wall. He moved their bed so the headbord was on that wall. I don’t know how often, but often enough they would be having loud sex. Banging the wall with the headboard. While watching porn at a loud volume. I would bang on the wall screaming for them to stop but he would just get louder. It was awful and I can still hear it in my nightmares.

How did my mother let this shit happen? Why did she let this shit happen? She knew I would find the movies and had to know that I would find the sex toys. Why did she let all that happen? My therapist says it’s because she had the bad, failed marraige to my biological father that she would do anything to keep Don. But what about me and how all of that would affect me?

That’s all I want to talk about today I think. That’s enough baggage for one post. Sorry this was such a heavy one.

Author:

I am sharing my story of why and how I developed BPD and what I am doing to rebuild myself.

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