{"id":10220,"date":"2026-01-06T15:32:44","date_gmt":"2026-01-06T15:32:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/?p=10220"},"modified":"2026-01-06T15:32:44","modified_gmt":"2026-01-06T15:32:44","slug":"my-dad-was-married-and-had-an-affair-with-my-mom-i-became-the-product-of-their-affair-woman-overcomes-childhood-trauma-addiction-proclaims-i-wear-my-story-with-pride-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/?p=10220","title":{"rendered":"\u2018My dad was married and had an affair with my mom. I became the product of their affair.\u2019: Woman overcomes childhood trauma, addiction, proclaims \u2018I wear my story with pride \u2013 all of it!\u2019"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cMy story started before I was born. Some say it\u2019s not possible and some believe it plays a huge part of who I am. My dad was married and had an affair with my mom. I became the product of their affair.<\/p>\n

My mom married another man when I was one year old. On the outside, to everyone else, we looked normal. But behind closed doors, dark secrets hid. My life quickly took a turn. My very first memory is not of a toy or family vacation or function. My first memory I have as a little girl was my stepdad raping me. He had to move my body the way HE needed. He would do it in the living room with people home and became \u2018brave\u2019 in doing it wherever and whenever he wanted it.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Another memory I have was my younger sister waking up when he was raping me. She said, \u2018Daddy can you hump me like you do Shannon?\u2019 He told her, \u2018No it\u2019s only for her.\u2019 He never touched his kids or any other kids that we know of\u2026 Just me.<\/p>\n

I was the stepchild and had to take hell.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

People knew and some even walked in on him during the act and turned around and left me there! The hardest words to swallow came from my own mother. \u2018This is the slut you are sleeping with?!\u2019 I was only in 4th grade and it tore me apart. My brother grew up thinking and believing I was the other \u2018woman\u2019 his dad had an affair with. That I was the reason his mom and dad got a divorce.<\/p>\n

I was told things like, \u2018You\u2019re the reason we are poor.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018You little slut.\u2019
\n\u2018I wish I never had you.\u2019
\n\u2018You\u2019re a piece of sh*t.\u2019
\n\u2018I hate you.\u2019<\/p>\n

These hurtful phrases came from family. The words from other people killed my soul. Words hurt more than anything.<\/p>\n

To this day I hate crochet blankets, it seemed to be the main blanket he used. The abuse would happen up to 3 times a day. Soon after, I had my neighbors, my grandpa and my uncles touching me. They would tell me, \u2018It\u2019s already happening so no one will believe I\u2019m doing it, too!\u2019<\/p>\n

I had to take it.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I have always wondered, how did someone have so much time to cause so much pain? My stepdad would ground me for little things. I was always grounded, sometimes up to a year. I believe it was so I\u2019d be at the house \u2013 his way of controlling me.<\/p>\n

My stepdad took everything from me. My image on love was destroyed, my self-love wasn\u2019t there\u2026I hated myself.<\/p>\n

I was angry and violent towards people. I hated life. My pain was so deep, and most did not know. I quickly learned how to hide my emotions and became a fighter. I hated everything and everyone, even God. I was labeled at a young age and no matter how much I tried, I was always the horrible kid.<\/p>\n

I started drinking and using drugs at the age of 10. I had to stay numb. Show no emotion. I hated the memories of the pain I knew and the hate that ran deep in me.<\/p>\n

My stepdad moved out of the house, never spent a day in jail and no charges were EVER filed. After the abuse from him, I\u2019d still hear and feel him breathing down my neck. I was in a living hell every single day. Every time I was touched a certain way it would trigger negative feelings and emotions. I dropped out of school in 8th grade \u2013 couch surfed or slept in the desert. I didn\u2019t want to be around people.<\/p>\n

I started using meth. And oh boy, I finally found something I loved! I got down to 78 lbs, stayed up for four months at a time AND at one point lost over two weeks when a couple of friends and I stayed in a room so HIGH we never came out until the dope was gone. The neighborhood thought we were dead but never called because they didn\u2019t want the cops around.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I laughed then, but now I think, \u2018Oh man, no one really would have cared if I was gone.\u2019 It was a horrible place. I got pregnant with my daughter. I believe now that she saved my life, but at the time, I wasn\u2019t ready to stop partying.<\/p>\n

I liked being high. I felt no emotions or pain.<\/p>\n

I believe God gave me her so I could live.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Almost a year later, I met my husband. We got together even though both of us were with someone else. My husband told me one day, \u2018it\u2019s him or the drugs.\u2019<\/p>\n

For the first time in my life, I stopped something for a man. I stopped that day.<\/p>\n

God knew I needed this man. My now husband came into my life and took on some heavy baggage. He has helped me heal from my emotional damage, stayed through all the anger outbursts and the hell I put him through. I didn\u2019t know how to love or even accept love. It was hard to know someone really loves me, because I was so broken and damaged. He stepped in and pulled me out of the hell I was living. We dated a month before we got married.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

God really did have his hand on my life. I never believed it until I believed in Him. Believing helped me heal.<\/p>\n

The hardest thing I ever had to do was forgive the man who raped me, who took my innocence away and then forgive the mother who didn\u2019t protect me. After I truly forgave, a weight was lifted off me.<\/p>\n

I gave my life to God seven years ago. The Lord and my husband are my strength. I know where I am broken, I know where I need strength and I know I am loved, and I am enough.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I once heard that trauma is the gateway drug. Through so much healing, I now believe that to be true.<\/p>\n

Today I am 16 years clean. Happily married for 16 years with 3 kids. I work at our church serving others. I don\u2019t tell my story for sympathy. It was and is still hard for me to think of myself as a victim. Because without my hell, I\u2019d never have the compassion and love for people I now have.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I wear my story with pride \u2013 all of it! It sucked but I came out stronger and an overcomer by the grace of God. I tell others to be an example of hope.<\/p>\n

Am I perfect? I am only human.
\nDo I still have my self-hate issues? Yes, but I cope through exercises.
\nDo I still have anger? Yes, but now, I\u2019m not violent and I can work it out like an (almost) normal human. When I talk to others who are struggling with what happened I tell them, \u2018In order to heal and move on you cannot wear that victim role too long \u2013 it will hold you in your hell.\u2019<\/p>\n

I still have feelings and emotions from my past. They haunt me, but I\u2019m a heck of a lot stronger now. I don\u2019t feel the man who took everything from me anymore\u2026 I feel the love my husband has filled me with.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cMy story started before I was born. Some say it\u2019s not possible and some believe it plays a huge part of who I am. My<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":10230,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10220","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10220","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10220"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10220\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10231,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10220\/revisions\/10231"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/10230"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10220"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10220"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10220"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}