Those of us who have suffered abuse at the hands of their fathers or other trusted male relatives carry within us a strange and painful legacy.
We find it hard to trust or we trust too much too soon.
We hold ourselves back or we give ourselves away to readily.
We are quiet and reticent or we are loud and brash.
We come in all shapes and sizes with all sorts of coping mechanisms and unhealthy addictions and pathologies.
We hook up with the wrong kind of guy or we resolutely stay single.
We eat, or smoke, or drink, or talk, or shop, or exercise or was and clean too much and we are nearly always afraid of the dark.
With us life is unpredictable or planned and routine to the max.
We have similar experiences, similar stories, but we are all different. We survived the only way we knew how and we carry the positive and negative effects of that survival for the rest of our lives.
We do not ask for pity, or sympathy or handouts.
We do ask for a sprinkle of understanding and a pinch of patience.
We do ask that we not be lumped together and dismissed.
We do ask that you try to hear us, even if the story is one you have heard a thousand times, it is unique to us.