No Sympathy for the Sick Bastards

It just happened that yesterday when I was reading my father's journal full of bitching about his situation I was also watching "Our America with Lisa Ling" about registered sex offenders.

What the fuck.

Where do they get off with this "Woe is me?!?!" attitude??

I understand the 18 year old who sleeps with his 16 year old girlfriend and gets labeled. But if you are a grown man and you molest a child, or you commit a rape or some other atrocity, what kind of justification do you have so that you can ask for sympathy and expect to get it?!?!

Child molesters and rapists deserve nothing less than castration.

So, for all of you sex offenders out there, I'll offer an apology for my dad, the pedophile:
I'm so fucking sorry that you had trouble at work, Dad. And that you couldn't play with your friends for a few months. And I'm sorry that I haven't apologized sooner, I've been busy picking up the pieces you left of Mom's life, and trying with all of my being to hold on to the relationship with Amara that you destroyed. I've been doing my damnest not to repeat the cycle. And rebuilding my self-esteem that you tore down at every opportunity.
So if this apology was too long in coming, kiss my fucking ass you sick self-righteous bastard.

P.S. - I'm still searching for my usual self. Patience please.

Let Dead Dads Lie

I've never written a more painful post.

I've also never been so angry and hurt and conflicted.

I'm not sure that I've mentioned this before, but my father, who died when I was 15 was a pedophile and I was his victim.

It's not something I talk about often and it doesn't define who I am. But it's one of those things that occassionally rears its ugly head and comes back to bite me in the ass.

Like tonight.

Mom was cleaning out her desk a few weeks ago and found a journal that Dad was forced to keep for his probation after I outed him.

Mom wanted to know if I wanted to read them and I didn't that particular day, but she left them on her desk and everytime I walked through her room they were there staring at me.

So tonight I didn't have the kids and Mom was gone, so I went and got them.

I should have left it alone.

The vast majority of the entries, that spanned two months, were complaints: about writing, exhaustion, lonliness, work, money and chores. He wrote about how his situation was hard for him - he wasn't allowed contact with children of any kind. How he missed the family enviroment, my mother and my sister.

In two months worth of entries my name appeared 3 times. He hadn't seen or spoken to me in 7 months, and never would again, he died within a month of the last entry.

I am hurt, and angry and confused.

I never idealized him, and saw him as a sick bastard that sometimes could be very kind and loving. But I guess I thought he was remorseful in the end. And that in his deluded, sick way, he loved me.

But his journal tells me a different story.

He never said that he was sorry, or that he regretted what he did to me. They gave me more of the impression that he was sorry he got caught, not really that he did it.

He also never says he missed me. He mentions Amara and missing her and being sorry that he hurt her (he never laid a hand on her), but never me.

What kind of father doesn't miss his child when separated from them for 7 months?

(and let's not get into the obvious - "the same kind that could molest said child".)

And I was sick during this period - passing out for no apparant reason at least once a week.

He talks about Fantasy Football 50 times more that he talks about me!!

I'm angry. And outraged. And really I don't have many coherent thoughts. I just needed to vent.

I promise I'll be back to my old snarky self soon.