{"id":133,"date":"2016-01-22T05:18:37","date_gmt":"2016-01-22T05:18:37","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/?p=133"},"modified":"2016-04-30T00:54:41","modified_gmt":"2016-04-30T00:54:41","slug":"meet-the-pedophile-say-hello-to-my-daddy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/meet-the-pedophile-say-hello-to-my-daddy\/","title":{"rendered":"Meet The Pedophile – Say Hello To My Daddy"},"content":{"rendered":"

My father was the first born child to pathological parents. My father’s father (my grandfather) was a pedophile and my grandmother had been involved in prostitution and was also a well-known back-yard abortionist. Knitting needles were the only instruments in her medical bag. She was a better abortionist than a knitter and it was good easy money.<\/p>\n

\"My<\/p>\n

My father was what is termed today as a Cross Over Offender, mixed together with a splash of Sexual Retaliator. He would sexually assault women of all ages and I was the top prize on his list and that made me his ‘Supreme Betrayal’. His own daughter.<\/p>\n

Referring back to my article about my mother<\/a>, my parents had a shotgun marriage. My mother was completely in love with my father. She was besotted with him and he was an expert winning the ladies over. But he was no competition for my mother’s five elder brothers and her father when she revealed she was pregnant.<\/p>\n

The rat was caught in a trap with no way of escaping. So he married my mother. Now during this fourteen years of wedded bliss, my father was caught up in endless affairs and non stop visits to brothels. In fact the day I was born he was tracked down by one of his brothers-in-law in a brothel, with literally his pants around his ankles.<\/p>\n

To say that my parents had a troubled marriage would be stating the bleeding obvious.<\/p>\n

My First ‘Daddy’ Memories<\/h2>\n

The first memories I have of my father was of him raping me. He would be grunting like a pig and his stinking, putrid sweat would be dripping on me. I can still smell and feel that today.<\/p>\n

I would be screaming in pain. There was no fear anymore. I knew exactly what was going to happen to me. It was only a choice of whether it would be face up or face down.<\/p>\n

He would either hold me by the throat and half choke me, or he would hold a pillow over my face and I could hardly breathe.<\/p>\n

However the worst of all was when he held me by the back of the neck and made me tell him how much I loved my daddy.<\/p>\n

After awhile, my screaming and crying stopped…but the pain never did.<\/p>\n

That was my relationship with my father.<\/p>\n

Night after night after night…and before too long, both my vagina and anus were red raw, cut and bleeding. It seemed raping me was the only job he ever had in his life, and one he put his heart and soul into.<\/p>\n

Now all my childhood years of him pounding away at me, took a vicious toll on my body. My womb will never carry a child and my spirit and soul had been lost for decades.<\/p>\n

Plus, my mother started torturing me. She saw me as a threat, the enemy was in her own home, sleeping in the next room.<\/p>\n

I was a part of her and she hated herself, so somebody had to pay the price.<\/p>\n

So I was their punching bag, their sex toy, their dirty little secret weapon they used to hurt each other with…and Mummy and Daddy loved to hurt each other. That was the one thing they always were happy to do to. Destroy each other, and they had the perfect little victim who couldn’t fight back and who had lost the urge to even fight at all. Me.<\/p>\n

The aftermath of this lunacy is me and now I sit here writing to you, sharing my story.<\/p>\n

If you say the letters of the alphabet, I have or have had every mental illness you could imagine. A for anxiety, B for Binge eating, C for Clergy Awareness, D for Depression…PTSD…right through to Z. What does Z stand for? I’ll have to think about that one.<\/p>\n

I’ve had broken bones, cuts, all my fingernails ripped out with pliers<\/a>, had pins shoved in every square inch of my body…and my parents drove my little body and my sanity to the very edge of Hell.<\/p>\n

BUT! They didn’t break me! I’m still here and I’m still fighting and now I am screaming my story from the rooftops and as loud as I can, because we ALL matter…and I hear you…I hear you screaming right back at me.<\/p>\n

So stand up brave one, stand up with me and take back your dignity, your pride, and your sanity…because we<\/em> matter, you<\/em> matter.<\/p>\n

The nasties of this world will never, never break us, we are survivors.<\/p>\n

Be kind to yourself,<\/p>\n

Love Big Fat Dee<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My father was the first born child to pathological parents. My father’s father (my grandfather) was a pedophile and my grandmother had been involved in prostitution and was also a well-known back-yard abortionist. Knitting needles were the only instruments in her medical bag. She was a better abortionist than a knitter and it was good […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":134,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[34,9,8,10,37,13,33,14,12],"class_list":{"0":"post-133","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-my-family","8":"tag-child-abuse","9":"tag-father","10":"tag-incest","11":"tag-mother","12":"tag-my-parents","13":"tag-pedophile","14":"tag-ptsd","15":"tag-rape","16":"tag-torture","17":"entry","18":"override"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/133","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=133"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/133\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/134"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=133"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=133"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theodeas.com\/Dee\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=133"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}