Is that possible that my daughter blames me?

Question

My daughter is 12 and has been through a lot. She doesn't talk to me anymore, though. I found out a month ago that she was being molested by her father. We are going to court against him later this month. Before that, I had been working a lot and I didn't notice anything was wrong. It took a school counselor to make me aware. Is that possible that my daughter blames me as much as I blame myself? I want to be close to her again more thna anything. I know that she needs me. I am trying but I don't know what to do anymore!

Yes, I always make sure to tell her nothing of it was her fault. I hope she can know that! And I hope some day I can feel it's not my fault!

Answer 1

MAKE SURE THAT SHE KNOWS THAT SHE DID NOTHING WRONG. Make sure that she knows that you are there for her. Seek counselling!!!!!!!!!!

Answer 2

WOW - my heart goes out to you !!

Parenting is the hardest jod IN THE WORLD !!!
IT is NOT ur fault ...don't ever blame urself ...when something happens to your children we always point fingers at the parents!
My mother is an excellent mother and i made a ton of mistakes while growing up ...i NEVER blamed her !! Sit down and have a serious talk with your daughter ...let her know that u love her sooooooo VERY much and u feel awful for not paying alot of attention ...after all u are working to clothe and feed her! Tell you that TOGETHER you can work through the difficult times and you are VERY proud of her no matter what !!
Hope this helps ! and Good luck to you ...all WILL be fine ! : )

Answer 3

No she doesn't blame you how could she it wasn't your fault, how could you know that this man was like this. What is going on with her, no one could explain, she needs to be in therapy, most likely for the rest of her life, maybe she feels like the one to blame, did you think of that? Most rape victims, and molestation victims blame themselves, for being in situations that made them vulnerable to allow that to happen. She probably feels responsible for you two going through your divorce, breakup, or whatever happened between you two. Reasure her ITS NOT HER FAULT! Seek out a therapist that can help not only her, but you and anyone else in the family who may have been affected by this. It takes time, but good luck!

Answer 4

No, I don't think she blames you. Its probably just that she is confused , hurt, and feelin alone cuz of embarrassment.Tell her you love her. Ask her once if she would like to talk about it. If she doesn't then drop it .Reassure her of your love for her and that you will always be there for her. Just be there for her when she is ready to talk about it .And don't blame yourself for an-others actions.I don't believe you have anything to do with his ways of thinkn.Your daughter may need counseling for fact that it easier sometimes to talk to strangers than loved ones, and don't be upset with yourself if she does chose to talk to a counselor and not you. Prayers help much also. From experience I could tell you I have more faith in God than our sad so called system.So please for your sake as well as your daughters,Pray on it and Justice will be done. God Bless you both.

Answer 5

This is a very diificult issue.Why dont you talk to the counsellor.I guess its hard to trust people.At her age too kids go into their own world.Its a mixture of that as well.Trust me I have a 12 year old daughter.Sometimes you need to switch the tv off and talk which is what you might need to do.Have a mother/daughter outing and ask what she would like to do..Spend some quality time together.

Answer 6

Try be supportive of her. She going threw hell now as I'm guessing that you are also. Just love her and let her know that your here when she is ready. Remember to love yourself also. I would suggest getting counseling for you, her and the two of together in hopes to rebuild the bond of mother and daughter and the trust of child to her mom. Hugs

Answer 7

Its not your fault, and if she does blame you, it will not be forever. Shes going to need alot of time to get over this and to get through this. Im sure as long as your by her side she will not be mad at you, and think that its all your fault.

Answer 8

i blamed my mum partly its going to take some time for her to heal. the man who she loved most and should be able to trust betrayed her and even though deep down she knows its NOT HER OR UR FAULT shes going to be mad and ur going to be the easiest person to take it out on. she probably is very confused.
give her time but not space she needs to know ur there cos if u back off and give her space shes going to think u r betraying her also.
sorry if that isnt what u were hoping to hear.

Answer 9

This is long but please read to the end.....

it is possible, i was molested by my father as well and no one noticed that my acting out which started at age 4 could possibly have stemmed from something. they chose instead to treat me like the bad seed. I never did tell my mom and she never, as far as i know, found out. She divorced my dad when I was in 2nd grade and he chose to never see us anymore, after hiding in the tree outside of my window in the mornings to "catch a peek" for two weeks. I blamed my mom for a very long time, but eventually had to own up to the choices I was making, acting out, doing drugs, being a "wild child," and start making better choices regardless of what was done to me. I am now a successful mom of 3 with 1 on the way who is very well adjusted and has a happy life. No one but myself and my best friend know about my abuse.

I still blame my mom now and then, but I have come to terms with the fact that I have for so long chosen to keep it a secret, and that alone, in my opinion, puts some of the responsibility on my shoulders. Not responsibility for the abuse of course, but for the way my family always perceived me.

I am including a poem my best friend found for me, she is also a survivor of abuse.

The Courage To Heal

A Tribute

by Ellen Bass

We were five in a plaid dress with a sash and a little white collar.
We were nine, it was after school in the garage, the smell of motor oil and cut grass through the open window.
We were twelve, fourteen, sixteen in our own beds, in seersucker pajamas the rain pelting down and running through the gutters.It was a neighbor, a priest, a stranger, our father, our mother. It was every day. It was when he got drunk.
It was before our class trip to the state capitol.
When our mother was in the hospital giving birth. Just once.

We were left for dead.
We were barely scratched.
We were found in the coal bin, so wild they couldn’t catch us to wash, to comb our hair.
Nothing showed.

We lay at the bottom of the stairs.
We found ourselves looking down from a corner of the ceiling.
We found ourselves out in the limb of a maple tree, in the night sky, up in the stars, where it was cool and there was so much space.
We found ourselves in our beds. It was morning and our clothes laid out neatly on the chair, our mothers prompting us to come to breakfast.

We told an English teacher with straight brown hair clasped at the nape with a silver barrette.
We told our mother who slapped us once across the face and closed herself like a fist.
We told by carving our skin like a pumpkin.
We never told.

We slept clutching a plaster statue of the Virgin Mary.
By day, we couldn’t concentrate.
The long division on the blackboard smeared in our minds.
We memorized everything.
Our handwriting an exact replica of Palmers cursive, only smaller.

We ate to erect a bulwark.
We wouldn’t eat.
We didn’t want our bodies.
We didn’t want to be a part of the food chain-eater or eaten.

We took enough pills to kill a horse.
We were in a coma for a month. And we emerged in rage.
We smiled.
We smiled.
We were drunk.
The first six years of our daughter’s life.
We held our sons hand over a candle.
We somehow knew how to mother. That gave us joy.

Deciding to heal was a choice.
The first one we ever clearly made.
We didn’t decide.
The alternatives just became too painful.

We cried every day.
We only cried once but it went on for a year.
We never cried.

We gave up and drove a motorcycle into a guard rail.
We threw a chair through the window.
We stood on the steps of the psychiatric unit weeping about something we couldn’t remember.
We remembered everything it seemed, each detail etched into the soft organ of our minds.

We blamed ourselves because he gave us a bicycle.
We blamed ourselves because we didn’t stop it.
We blamed ourselves because our bodies responded.
We stopped blaming ourselves.

We beat a hundred pillows and tore up a year’s worth of the Sunday Times.
We filled forty notebooks with writing that dug through the pages like a plow.

We said once in a quiet voice, I’m angry.
We told our stories and we were believed.
We told our stories and our families denied it.
Never were we left alone like that. It couldn’t have happened.
We told our stories and the faces that listened told theirs.

Once, we held our fingertip up to a woman with kind eyes and she touched the pad of her finger to ours-for a moment.
Once, we were rocked in a safe lap and someone smoothed back our hair with a tenderness not even we could deny.

But that wasn’t the end of it.
It went on and on beyond what we’d imagined, beyond what we’d signed up for.
We sat in fear like it was our own urine.
Our hearts aching in our hollowed out chests and down our empty arms.
We thought we would not survive.
Like stroke patients we had to learn everything anew.
We saw how it seeped into the corners our lives like smoke.
Nothing was untainted, except the tough kernel we were born with, the seed of who we could have been, could still be.

We reclaimed our bodies, inch by precious inch.
Feeling our own skin, astonished, like touching a newborn.
We tried our trust, like experimenting with drugs.
We went back to school.
We took a vacation.
We spoke the truth.
We did what we wanted.
We learned to sleep.
We ate when we were hungry.
We woke in the morning, willing.
We wanted to be alive.

We were hungry for all we’d missed.
We took it with eager, patient or tentative hands but we took it.
We made a cup of tea in our own kitchen and drank it a blue table on which we’d set a small bouquet of daffodils.

Answer 10

IT WILL TAKE HEALING. DONT BLAME YOURSELF JUST EASE INTO THE SITUATION AND YOUR DAUGHTER WILL SEE WHAT A LOVELY MOM SHE HAS. IT TAKES TIME,AND MORE TIME. BUT ITS EASY FOR ME TO SAY , DONT LET IT GNAW ON YOU. THE LIGHT WILL EVENTUALLY SHINE THROUGH. BELIEVE ME !

Answer 11

she is more than likely afraid and very hurt .you are right she needs you more than ever and needs to know it wasn't her fault.