Every encounter with my father evoked a paralyzing fear unlike any I had ever known.

It felt like I had an invisible barrier up at all times, and every attempt he made to cross it put me on edge, like stepping into enemy territory. We never really hugged—our embraces were stiff as if we were going through the motions, pretending to have a normal father-daughter relationship, eager to get it over with.

At his funeral, I had no choice but to get close to him. It was mandatory to greet a line of relatives upon arrival—ten. I remember how difficult it was to face each one, especially as I approached the end of the line where Dotti, Rick, Ron, my stepmother, and […]

I had been struggling against my father … an abusive husband, my faith, my anxiety, and all the injustices in the world

But to what end? I was more distressed and emotionally wounded than ever before. Therapy had become a necessity, helping me navigate the trauma of the sexual abuse inflicted by my father. It was July, and my father was preparing to leave for his annual fishing trip with his friend, Dr. Martinelli. I knew it was time to confront him. So, I drove two hours from Pacific Grove, California, to his house in Los Altos.

As I exited the car, he emerged from the house onto the front porch. At that moment, I felt a sense of assertiveness, personal power, […]