I’m 42(f) and currently reliving some past trauma which is being dredged up that I’d like opinions and support for.
I have a 2.5 year old daughter, and due to childcare issues, we have recently had to rely on my parents to stay with us and help take care of her as my husband and I both work full time. We were desperate, and they were our last resort. I offered to pay for my mums flights, and did not want or invite dad to come, but she insisted on paying for both their flights because she didn’t want to come without him, so I accepted this.
Before they arrived, I gave them 2 simple rules to follow, which was that no men are allowed to see my daughter naked (other than her own dad). This meant, no other men were allowed to change her diaper or clothes or see her undressed, and she’s not to be left alone with my dad.
My mother immediately resisted this request. My mother is 66 years old, and my father is 70, both retired. She blames her age and diabetes diagnosis as her inability to do many tasks. She is completely dependent on my father to do everything for her, and openly jokes about how he is her slave, and how they are stuck together for the rest of their lives. The reality is that even when she was much younger and before her diabetes diagnosis, she was already like this. I clearly remember her bossing my dad around constantly for every tiny little thing and throwing huge tantrums if he didn’t make her a cup of tea in the morning. Most of my childhood memories of my mother are of her watching TV dramas or sitting on her computer singing online karaoke in yahoo chat while my dad was at work. On two occasions when I needed to go to the hospital for major surgeries in my 20’s, my mother refused to drive me and told me to drive myself, even when I was in excruciating pain from appendicitis. My dad worked 364 days out of each year from around 11am to after 10pm, even when he called the shots and ran his own business. I used to think he was extremely hardworking, but now that I realise that he had the option to close shop whenever he wanted to, I realise it was likely just an excuse to avoid family responsibility or building any sort of real relationship with his children.
Because she didn’t want to have to change diapers and clothes for my daughter to prepare her for school each day as she saw it as being too much work for her, she forced me to explain why I wouldn’t allow my dad to do it. I told her that it was because I wanted to protect my daughter, since she is getting older now. She tried to persuade me that dad was safe. This is when I decided to share my trauma with her, much of which I had kept to myself all this time, but also not completely.
I was very young when I realised my father was a bit of a creep. The first time was when I found a calendar of topless women with extremely large breasts under his side of the bed. I think I was less than 10 years old and I remember at the time I felt completely disturbed by the discovery of this calendar as I felt like he was cheating on my mum. I showed my younger brother who is 2 years my junior, and we both decided to hide it from him. My mum eventually came and asked me if we had seen his calendar, and we gave it back. Being an extremely curious kid, I also found VHS tapes of pornography in their wardrobe. Other times, we would be out and about at supermarkets or amusement parks, and I would always notice him staring at women who had a lot of cleavage showing. Witnessing these things grossed me out, but I never felt threatened myself. These were other women he was looking at, and nothing to do with me.
I got breast implants when I was in my mid-20’s, which I now have some regrets about because of the unwanted attention it has brought about over the years. Little did I know that the most unwanted attention it would bring would be from my own father.
Throughout my 20’s and early 30’s I moved in and out of my parents place, sometimes staying for longer stretches.
The first time I remember having thoughts that my dad was perving on me was when I had my own large bedroom on the ground floor, with access to the garden. Right next to my bed was a huge window facing the backyard outside. If I was at home, I’d often be lounging around in my bedroom watching TV in my silk slip pajamas without a bra on, as I hated wearing bras. I remember several times while living there hearing or suddenly noticing my dad mowing the lawn outside, but he seemed to be focusing a lot on the area just outside my window. When I noticed him out there, I would immediately pull the curtains shut. At this time I was in my mid-20’s and still in denial, and thinking it was just all in my head.
The last significant amount of time I lived with my parents was at their current house which they own. I lived there for 5 years between the ages of 28 to 33, when I moved in with them in order to go to university and pursue my business degree. While I lived with them, I remember constantly catching my dad looking at my chest. I used to wear a lot of low-cut style tight singlet tops or dresses. If I bent over to tie my shoelaces or pet my dog and he was in the room, I would catch him looking down my top every time. I wouldn’t ever close my bedroom door as I had to leave it slightly ajar for my Pomeranian to enter and exit, and there were instances where he would barge in the room without knocking, and even if he saw that I was not completely dressed, instead of quickly apologising and leaving, he would stay in the room and continue to look or glance at me until I yelled at him to leave. I also remember this happening once when I was naked in the bathroom and I forgot to lock the door, he entered without knocking even though the door was shut. I quickly tried to hide myself with my hands and had to scream at him to get out as he wouldn’t leave by himself and just stood there staring at my body. I also remember a few instances where he would “accidently” brush his hand against my chest when we were both in the kitchen, under the guise of moving me out of the way. No one else I’ve lived with has ever accidently brushed their hand against my chest.
I also suspected that he was spying on me when I was showering. I remember several times while I was in the shower, I heard movement directly above me in the roof of the house. When I exit the bathroom, I could see that he had climbed into the roof as the panel in the ceiling was open, saying he was fixing something up there. But why was he always doing this directly above me in while I was showering? I wondered if there a vent or a hole that he could see through. Again, I don’t have proof of this. But you must wonder why I was even thinking that my dad could do this. It’s obvious now that these thoughts were always on my mind and his creepiness was plaguing me a lot.
Something else that disgusted me, was that it was clear that my dad would use the downstairs bathroom for masturbating, as he’d often leave the KY Jelly lubricant on the windowsill next to the toilet, and there were hundreds of small marks where his belt must have been hitting the wall next to the toilet while he was doing it.
With all of this happening while I was studying, I started to feel more and more uncomfortable and suffocated by staying with my parents. There were a few months of respite when my brother purchased his own house and I was able to stay with him. When he got married and my sister-in-law moved in, I moved back to my parents place again. I also rented a room in an Airbnb for a few months and studied remotely from another town. During these times being away from my dad was when I felt I could properly breathe again.
It’s difficult to explain how I was able to maintain a somewhat cordial relationship with my dad for all these years. When I was living with my parents, I was dependent on them as I needed a place to stay until I completed my studies. Also, how do you prove that someone is looking at you inappropriately? And not just anyone. Your own dad. Their husband. Their father. Someone who they care deeply about. How do you burst their image of their admired and beloved family member and accuse them of being a creep to their own daughter? Did I even have the capability to approach a conversation like this? Or the desire to speak about such a humiliating and taboo thing? Who would even believe me? And what would the outcome be? Also, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was me? Maybe I was over-thinking. I had no “proof”. I also wanted to maintain an image of having a normal family. The image of having a normal caring non-creepy father.
So, I repressed repressed repressed. I just had to get through my final years of study, and then I would be out of there and would never have to think about this again. I was studying remotely, so I was home a lot. I actively avoided my dad around the house by waiting until he left for work before coming out from my bedroom and made sure I had everything I needed from the kitchen or living room so I could retreat to my room before he got home from work. I purchased several baggy t-shirts to wear around the house when he was home and always made sure to wear a bra underneath. If I caught him looking at me, I’d ask him what he was looking at or ask him to stop.
After my graduation, I immediately moved overseas and found work. For a few years, I still went home to visit my Pomeranian (before I shipped them overseas to live with me), and to see other family, like my grandmother and cousin.
I think it was during one of these home visits that my dad told me his mobile phone had an issue. I previously worked in customer service for a telecommunications company, so naturally he would come to me for help. As part of the troubleshooting process, I cleared his phone browser cache and was helping him close out of all the browser tabs he had open, as I noticed it was in the hundreds. At the time, they didn’t have a close all tabs option on phones, so I had to go into each tab and close them one by one. Not being tech-savvy, he must not have realised that each time he opens the browser, his previous session is saved in a tab. This is when years of suspicion became a reality and my world came crashing down. Open on over 100+ tabs was a photo I had posted to Facebook of myself standing on a beach in a green bikini. I continued closing all the tabs, feeling completely creeped out, traumatised, disgusted. I thought about his KY Jelly in the bathroom and the marks on the wall. My brother was visiting at the time. I showed him the phone while I was closing all the tabs, and asked him “why does dad have all of these tabs open of my photo?”. At the time, my brother just shrugged it off and didn’t say much. I thought that he would at least remember the incident, because it was so weird and creepy and I would have been visibly upset. I now realise that people don’t remember much that doesn’t impact them directly. I told my mum about this on the same day, and she accused me of lying and we had a huge argument about it over whatsapp. She doesn’t remember any of it now either, apparently. That was a turning point in the relationship between my dad and I. I immediately blocked him from Facebook, and even when I have been around him since, I have not spoken to him much. I thought it would be obvious that the relationship between my dad and I has been strained for years, but no one else has ever noticed. Although we were all living under the same roof for 5 years, my mother either has forgotten or never noticed my gradual change in attire around the house to super baggy and covered up clothing, and never noticed that I would mostly stay in my room until after my dad left for work. Both my mother and brother deny remembering the incident of the photos on my dad’s phone. Like I could possibly dream up something as disturbing as this.
It was also obvious that they both didn’t take my request seriously about my daughter. As soon as they arrived at our house from the airport, my father started to unbutton my daughters school uniform to undress her. I immediately stopped him and asked what he was doing. I asked my mum if she had told him my rules, and she said yes, although she was right next to him while he was doing it and didn’t stop him either. So because of my mums resistance toward having to change diapers and change my daughters clothes on her own, I was forced to dredge up the past and confide in her the true reason behind my rule by telling her about everything that happened with dad while I was living with them, and confront this trauma again. My dad obviously denied everything, including the photos on his phone, which I’m not surprised about. Who would admit to something like this, when there was no proof, and when it was all done so covertly, and it’s such a monstrous accusation. This set the tone for what has been their entire time here over the past few months. Any appreciation for them coming over to help was gone from day 1. I got extremely mad and told them I was serious about these rules. I knew that they were probably going to just sit her in front of the TV and feed her crap food for meals the whole time. I didn’t expect anything more from them in this aspect. But for these 2 rules, I would not budge. Despite confiding in my mum about my trauma, and reinforcing this rule, I still caught her changing my daughter while my dad was in the room. I caught her changing my daughter in front of my dad one day and asked her what she was doing, and she said “oh he’s just in the kitchen” casually dismissing everything again, despite the serious conversations we’d been having.
The final straw came when I caught my dad gazing at my chest again over the past few weeks. I’m currently 5 months pregnant so my breasts are much larger than usual. When I got ready to leave the house one time, my dad was standing at the bottom of the stairs as I walked down, and when he saw me his eyes immediately went to my chest and stayed there for several seconds. Another time, I went downstairs around lunch time to help my daughter do her hair before going to school, and as I approached the table where he was sitting while eating his noodles, his eyes landed on my chest for over 5 seconds. I nearly yelled at him for staring at me, but I stopped myself as my daughter was there. When someone is looking at your body for 5+ seconds, it’s not an accident, especially when they are clearly looking at your chest.
That night, I messaged my mum, and I asked her if dad knew about all the things I had told her, and how uncomfortable it makes me when he looks at me, as well as how uneasy I feel with him around my daughter. She said he knows, she told him everything. I asked her then, why he still hovering around my daughter all the time and touching her unnecessarily, and why is he still looking at my chest?
Again, without acknowledging my concerns, even though she knows we still need their help for 2 more weeks, she told me that they could both leave immediately if I wanted, and that they’d leave the next day. I told her that I still needed her help. I asked if dad could stay with my Aunt who lives in HK as I know she has room.
She said she didn’t want to involve my Aunt, and immediately launched into multiple arguments, denials and reasonings. She asked me why my dad would look at me. She tells me that all their friends admire my dad and think he’s a great man. She says he has been nothing but helpful with cleaning around the house. She tries to turn the situation around by saying that they are the victims, and that they came to help us babysit and spent a lot of money to be here, and if they stayed home they wouldn’t have to do anything and could sleep in every day and wouldn’t face these accusations. She keeps saying that she is putting off her monthly diabetes check-ups so that they could be here to help and putting her own health at risk. She complains that she’d rather not be at our house because she needs to deal with mosquitos whenever she is outside. That they care about my daughter, and were worried for her safety due to issues with our previous nanny and that’s why they rushed here. Again, no huge surprises with her reaction and playing the victim and refusing to acknowledge my feelings or any of what I have told her. This has been my entire life with them. I could tell that her denial was not because she didn’t believe me, but came from a place of self-preservation. She needs my dad (her slave). She does not need me. I told her that the reason I attended a 7-day psychotherapy retreat in 2022 was to try to process and heal from trauma caused by both of them.
During these discussions, she repeatedly asks me who else I have told, so it’s clear that the reputation of herself and my dad are the priority for her. She never once acknowledges my pain, trauma or experiences. They both deny any of my experiences are true, said she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, and blames it on my mental health due to being pregnant. When she asked if I had told my husband, I confirmed that I did as I wanted him to help look out for my daughter. The next day when I wasn’t around, they confront my husband, both in person and by whatsapp, and try to convince him that everything I have said is a lie and that I was experiencing mental health issues.
My mother keeps bringing up 6 months ago when they stayed with us, again to help with urgent childcare, and about how they felt so appreciated as we took them on holiday and out for dinners and did not bring up this situation then. I told her that I also didn’t want my dad to be hands on with my daughter last time, I never felt comfortable around him, but I knew that they (mum and dad) came as a package and I felt I didn’t feel I had a choice. I also at the time made a poor decision of valuing their comfort over my own, and over my own daughter’s safety, which is a decision I now regret. I also reminded her that I did not want to bring up this situation, but she forced me to by not following my simple rules. If they had, then I would not have had to bring up these traumatic memories again and the anger and discomfort that comes with those memories.
They were meant to stay for another two weeks, but we came to an agreement that they could stay here until the new nanny started in a week, but my dad must not be in the same room as me, and he’s to take a less active role in looking after my daughter, and never to be left alone with her or to be around her when she’s getting changed. I’m done with feeling so uncomfortable in my own house. It’s also very disturbing that despite the conversations we have been having about him, he swans around the house casually like he doesn’t have a care in the world and continues to look at my body.
Once they leave, I plan to distance myself from them both. I feel sad that this may mean my children do not have them in their lives as grandparents, but I feel the only way to have a relationship going forward is for my dad to admit to his actions, and for both to apologise to me, instead of continuing to gaslight me. What I do know is that I’ll never be able to get past the feeling of constantly feeling creeped out when my dad is around my daughter or myself and having to watch him like a hawk.