I'm a Survivor, Not a Victim: Coping with Rape

Started by Zillah, May 31, 2012, 02:28:53 PM

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Shjade

Quote from: Zillah on June 28, 2012, 02:47:51 PM
I forget how we got on the subject, but we were talking about something, and I mentioned that I wasn’t comfortable with a situation, and brought up being raped as a reason that I wasn’t comfortable with it. And so – and I mean this, he meant this without any maliciousness – he asked me with all sincerity so, when are you finally going to get over all this?

Oh wow.

I'm sure he wasn't really thinking about it that way at the time (which is a derp on his part), but...that's just not something you ask a person who's been through a traumatic experience. Any major traumatic experience.

I mean, if a friend were to lose a leg in some vicious car accident, you wouldn't ask them when they'd get over that whole losing a leg thing. The leg's still gone. It's not coming back. Some people might be better at coping with the necessary changes that brings with it than others, but I don't think anyone just "gets over" a life-changing injury like that. You learn to deal with it as best you can, and that's about all anyone can hope for.

Sure, being raped might not be as visible as a violent change of anatomy, but that doesn't make it any less of a major injury. There's a reason soldiers who haven't even been injured in the line of duty sometimes come home from wartime situations irrevocably changed by the experience. You can't just go back in time and undo the stressful periods in your life. Those things are always with you, unless you are one seriously lucky bastard who can compartmentalize like a boss. Most of us aren't that...err...bossy. Bosslike. Bossa nova? >.>

As an aside, your description of subsequent New Year's celebrations gave me an odd thought for an attempt to reach out. I'm curious enough about the idea that I thought I'd run it by you as a hypothetical (and really hope this isn't invasive; please just hit me with a truck if I'm being thoughtless and you don't want to answer): back in the really bad days, when you didn't want to be in anyone's company on New Year's eve, especially not anyone you were dating at the time, I'm wondering if some kind of distant or barred company would have been appreciated. To be more specific, something like a friend or boyfriend of the time offering to be there with you, but not actually there in the room: outside the door, not asking to come in, to keep that solid wall in place as a guarantee that nothing could or would happen; or just on the phone, maybe. Just providing a degree of support without the threat that they might be able to hurt you while they were providing it. Do you think that would have just been more upsetting?
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Zillah

As always, thanks to everyone for their comments and thoughts, and especially for their support. :)

@Kirce: ~hugs~ Thank you. :) Yes, being the "tough chick" just doesn't work in the long run, especially when it's just a facade.

@Gekido: ~more hugs~ Sorry to hear about your friend, and the terrible loss you've suffered.

@Shjade: Yes, my then-boyfriend's comments at the time were certainly a DERP moment. I can honestly say now that he didn't mean it in any sort of malicious way - in his own sweet lunkhead way, he was trying to be supportive and understanding - but it came out completely wrong. (And I certainly didn't take too kindly to it when it happened; I don't remember exactly what I said, except a lot of f-bombs were dropped, and I kicked him out of my condo for awhile.) Again, I've learned over time that some people view rape as an event, rather than an experience. My then-boyfriend was one of them - he saw it as an event that fades with time, not as an experience that leaves deep, deep scars, even though they can't be seen.

In hindsight, yes, company would've been appreciated on all those miserable New Year's Eves in years past. It probably would've been something like you said, though, with someone in the house and not in the room with me - I've almost gone into hysterics in a room by myself, and I know if someone had been there with him, I would've had a total meltdown. If I'd been smarter and a little more open about my experiences and the pain I was feeling, I probably could've/would've gone to my sister's place and stayed in her guest room or something ... I would've felt safe with her and her family there in the house. I don't think I ever could've done something like that with one of my boyfriends, though ... wouldn't have felt safe with them, even as nice and caring and sweet and well-meaning as some of them were. The main reason I didn't ever do that is because I never really told anyone for a long time I'd been raped, apart from some friends and acquaintances at college (and I told them only because they would've found out anyway) ... and later on, I told a few steady boyfriends about it, but that was it. To feel safe with my sister, I would've needed to have told her about it, and why I wanted to stay with her ... and for a very long time, I was too embarrassed/ashamed to mention it to most people I knew. (In the past two years, I've talked to my sister about it - along with a lot of other things - though it's still not something I've ever discussed with my parents).

If I could do it over, I would've talked about it more with my friends and family, and more actively sought support ... but there's no do-overs on this. So I try to live and learn from my mistakes. :)

I'm still not quite good with New Year's Eves, although I've gotten better with them. This past year, I spent a quiet evening with my SO and a few close friends at our place ... I did fine most of the evening (we sat up and chatted; my friends and my SO drank some wine, I didn't; and we most certainly did not have the television on, or anything involving countdowns), but still, when it got close to midnight I found myself getting really antsy and agitated, and needed to excuse myself and lock myself in the bathroom for a little bit. It didn't last long - just a couple of minutes, unlike most other years where it's a full day and night of paranoid, paralyzing terror - but it still wasn't fun.

I'm still hoping someday to be able to get through a New Year's Eve without even thinking about it at all.

Kenshin

Thank you for sharing your story Zillah, I have met many survivors of this and I wish this would be taken more seriously in society.

kckolbe

It's a difficult thing to explain to people who haven't experienced it.  I would take it further and argue that it is sometimes difficult to explain to people that have.  While it hasn't been true in recent years every woman I was in a relationship with from 2001 until 2009 had previously been assaulted, save for one who had been molested and abused (by separate people).  They all had different experiences, and they had each had a different amount of time to try and move on from it.  Unsurprisingly, they were also all different people.  It had affected them in such completely different ways that I really don't think some could have in any way empathized with the others. 

It's remarkable how two people that have technically been victims of the same thing, in this case, can have almost nothing in common. 
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Zillah

Deep breath ....
 
I thought I'd get around to talking (or writing) about this at some point. Just didn't think it'd be, well, now. But stuck on a mostly-empty airplane for a fifteen hour nonstop flight, after an incredibly emotional trip ... yeah. So here goes.
 
I worked for a few years at what could politely be called a run-down gentleman's club. The place was actually a converted bowling alley, in a less-than-pleasant neighborhood. Lighting in the parking lot was virtually non-existent, so when I went out to my car at three in the morning, I usually was escorted by one of the bouncers who worked at the club ... if I remembered, and if I was smart.
 
On one of the nights I didn't remember and was incredibly stupid, some guy snuck up behind me while I was fumbling with my car keys, and put one hand over my mouth and a knife to my throat. He calmly told me that if I didn't stay quiet and get into his van, he'd stick me like a pig and let me bleed to death in the parking lot.
 
So I stayed quiet. I let him duct tape my wrists behind my back, and got in the back of the van. He drove me to some seedy no-tell motel, took me up to a room, and forced me to do stuff to him … and then he did stuff to me. He kept either a knife to my neck or a gun to my head most of the time. I think that excited him more than anything.
 
He also hit me and cursed at me a lot, mostly towards the end. I think he wanted me to be scared. The odd thing was, I wasn’t scared. From the second I got in the van, the whole ordeal was like an out-of-body experience to me. I felt like some disembodied thing, floating around, watching some sick bastard do awful things to some woman who looked a lot like me, but it wasn’t me. I just felt numb and detached the whole time … and I remember feeling reasonably sure the whole time that he was probably going to kill me whenever he was finished.
 
He didn’t, though. (Obviously.) After what seemed like an eternity, I guess he got bored, or felt a slight twinge of remorse, or something.  Whatever the reason, he smacked me around some more, blindfolded and duct taped my hands again, and brought me down to the van. The next thing I knew, my face and shoulder were hitting gravel … he’d driven me back to the club parking lot, and unceremoniously thrown me out of the back of the van.
 
I don’t remember being raped by him in the same way I remember being raped by my ex-boyfriend. Even now, the details are all jumbled and hazy, probably because neither the conscious or subconscious parts of my brain care to remember it at all. (Although, if someone starts asking for specific details, I can usually dredge them up … I just can’t do it without prodding.) I vaguely remember getting in my car, and driving to a police station, and doing the whole rape examination/making a statement stuff there … and going home. I remember calling the club later that night, and talking to the manager, and telling her what happened, mostly as an explanation as to why I wouldn’t be at work that night.
 
I don’t remember much about the rest of that day. Or the next.
 
And the day after that, I went back to working at the club, like nothing happened. I told my co-workers what happened, mostly so it didn’t happen to them (the manager, quite rightly, also had let them know there was an incident.) And to the club’s credit – the place was always notoriously cheap – they at least fixed the lighting situation in the parking lot, and they set up a policy of having the bouncers escort all female club workers to their cars at night, usually in a group. But after a few days, I went on with my life like nothing happened.
 
Never told anyone else about it. Not friends (at least those who didn’t work at the club), not family, not loved ones. Ever. This is the first time I think I’ve bothered to “tell” anyone about it since then. And in some ways, I still don't know why I'm doing this.
 
I got a few follow-up phone calls from the detective on my case – apparently, my rapist did similar things to a few other women over a period of years. But they never caught him. As far as I know, he’s still out there doing the same thing.
 


 
Had to put this away for a day or so. When I wrote the paragraph above, I lost it. I don’t ever remember crying about this whole situation … but last night, I cried a lot.
 
I wish I had something clever or witty or insightful to say about this. I don’t. All I can say is that I took something incredibly terrifying and traumatic and wadded the whole experience up in a little ball and shoved it as far under the sofa cushions in my brain as I possibly could so I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. And it’s just kind of festered there … it’s never really gone away, much as I’ve wanted it to just shrivel up and die.
 
I guess I’m finally confronting it.

Secretwriter

I am not going to go into my story here, it's not the time or the place, but I will tell you that even years later it's not going to necessarily go away. Some people can put it behind them like it never happened and pretend to never even ever think about it, and can muddle through their life with that pattern repeating.  Some people face it head on and learn that if they let themselves remain the victim then they'll be a victim forever.  Confronting it is hell. Confronting it means admitting that it happened and that someone hurt you. It means that you have to live it again and face the music, but it also means, especially with you writing it down like this, that you're able to work through it and get it out, so that it's not so bottled up.  I love you, girl. I'm proud of you for confronting it.

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Secretwriter

Oh goody, I get to post twice since I can't edit my previous post for some reason...  >.>



Quote from: Sujini on August 02, 2012, 11:07:19 AM


I won't talk about my experiences because it sounds so fiction even though I know it isn't.

That is how I always feel when I tell someone something. I fear that they're going to think that I'm lying and not believe me.  My bio-dad's family didn't believe me, told me that I was lying, that this person who shall not be named here didn't do this, couldn't have done it. That it wasn't in him to do it.  They didn't know him quite as well as they thought they did. 

It comes up with writing partners pretty regularly, and every time I have to say "I can't do that because it bothers me, it hits home because of my childhood."  I explain, usually with as few details as possible. 

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Adammair

Zillah, I know you don't know me from Adam (pun intended), but you are definitely a strong person, even more for openly telling your story as you have. I would share mine, but I don't feel that comfortable doing so, so suffice it to say, I share a similar experience, which happened many times by the same person (who, by the way, if I EVER see again, will rue the last moments of his life, as I take every effort to make them as miserable as possible), and, although I don't feel like a "survivor", in a certain sense of the word, I know that I am.

Zillah

@Secretwriter: ~Hugs~ Thank you so much. Your words and support mean a lot to me. A lot. :)

@Adammair: Hugs for you as well ... sorry to hear of your own experiences. And I totally understand about not wanting to share them here. It's been easier for me to share my experiences in some places - and with some people - than in other places. All I can say is that I hope there's someone you love and trust in your life with whom you can talk about what happened. Keeping it all bottled up inside - at least in my own experience - hasn't worked too well.

Zillah

So I finally told my parents last night about being raped.

I went to my parents' house for dinner last night after work. My sister and her husband and their kids were there as well. After we ate way too much food (my mother always cooks enough to feed an army … it's an Italian-American thing), my sister's husband took the kids out to play in the backyard, and the rest of us went on the front porch. I'm incredibly glad my sister was there … she knows what happened, and I don't think I ever could've said anything to the rest of my family without her there, sitting next to me, and knowing she had my back, no matter what.

We're on the porch mostly so my dad can smoke. My mom won't let him smoke in the house anymore. And while he stubbornly refuses to quit, he pretty much limits himself to two cigarettes a day – one in the morning with his coffee, and one after dinner. I'm pretty much a health freak. I rarely drink anymore, and I don't smoke … unless I'm really, really stressing out. So when I asked my dad for a cigarette, I got the raised eyebrow of surprise. But he handed over the lighter and a cigarette without any hesitation.

I told my parents I wanted to tell my parents something.

"Good news or bad?" my dad asked.

"Mostly bad," I said. "But good, too, I guess."

And then I told them all the stuff I've mentioned here about being raped. Well, not all of it – I left a bunch of the minor details out, mostly because they didn't matter, and it was hard enough just telling them the words someone raped me. But I told them what happened, finally.

It was kind of surprising, in a way – I thought I kept it pretty calm and matter-of-fact, without getting too emotional … and my parents listened. I actually thought I kept everything together really well until the end, when I realized I'd dropped my cigarette because my hand was shaking that bad.

I haven't gotten along well with my mother in a long time. So when I finished, I went right into this paranoid defensive mode I've mentioned before, not entirely trustful of her, just waiting for her to pass judgment on me … now that I've written that, I kind of suppose that's why I never told her about anything that's happened to me. I was waiting for the wrong thing to come out of her mouth, some kind of backhanded insult along with her sympathy … and it never came. She didn't say anything, she just came out and sat next to me and gave me a hug.

I don't really remember the last time that happened.

And that's when I lost it … and I felt like this tremendous weight was lifted from me.

My dad (who's usually pretty quiet) actually did most of the talking from there. Are you okay? What can we do for you? That guy on New Year's Eve, was he the one who came here for Thankgiving? I knew he was an arrogant little piece of shit … And we talked a little more, and while it wasn't super-productive – no, Dad, really, there's nothing you need to do, I'm dealing with it – just the simple act of talking about it openly with them made things so much better.

All these weird irrational fears I had, of them not believing me, or supporting me, or even saying I deserved it … they vanished. Because they were exactly that – weird, irrational fears. But they weren't anything more that. My parents were nothing but supportive last night, and I was reminded of how much they love me, and how they'll always be there for me … if I let them be there for me.

I wish I'd done this years ago, but that's neither here nor there. What's done is done.

I'm just glad I did this now, rather than never.

I'm feeling a little better today … like I claimed back a little piece of myself.

Thufir Hawat

Zillah, I can't claim I'm proud with you, because not having done much to help you, I've got no reason to be proud.
But you have all the reasons you need to be proud, and you should be!

Me, I'm just glad you were able to tell them. I'm also glad it worked out and they reacted as they should. Makes me a bit proud about humanity, which is a feeling I haven't had in a while ;D!

Also, I'm totally glad I checked who have posted before posting an earlier draft of this post, or you would have received one of the most inappropriate responses possible 8-)!
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Adammair

*hugs Zillah* Thanks. I waited almost 20 years, maybe a bit more, to tell anyone about what happened to me. I'm glad that you didn't wait as long as I did. And I'm glad you got such a supportive, positive response. It's harder for a man, especially when it's another man boy there is no word to adequately describe him, because he is not, and never will be a "man", in my book. But I kept it hidden, for reasons that are still mostly unknown to me, and I got support from my mother and step-father (both psychologists), but I know it hurt them to find out. I'm still not sure I did the right thing, letting them know, but what's done is done, and at least my life is somewhat better for it.

I still suffer the occasional nightmare of powerlessness, but thankfully, they are few and far between.

rahatngt

Glad to here about your experience with the parents. You deserved something like that and I'm glad to see it happen.

Sylk

Zillah;

statistically;  3 in 5 women will be raped.  2 in 3 women will be raped by someone they know or a relative.  of THOSE numbers 4 of 5 of the women each and every one of us knows has either been raped or abused by someone.

Yeah. I was raped too.  Long time ago.  I was almost 19 and still a virgin.  Was my first week of college. I lost most of the memory of that year due to the side effects of what ever it was the guy slipped in the one beer I had all night.  I am now 49.  30 years.  It still hurts. It still affects me in how I deal with some things.  I guess the difference is that I can recognize why I do some things or think in certain ways and can act on them before I actually DO them or say things or hurt someone out of my auto-defense.

It will never go away.  It will always be something horrible that happened.  But it will get better with time.  How much is not for me to say.  How you deal with it is also not for me to say.  Everyone survives how they are able and goes through their own grief, anger and resentment.  Eventually though, you'll come to see that you are and always have been a worthwhile person.  You still have a great deal to offer people in your life.  Lastly.... you have to decide when you're going to stop letting this guy rape you over and over in your head.  Which you are doing now. 

Be proud of yourself.  Be proud of who you are, how far you have come and the commitment you have made to put this behind you and heal.  I wish you much luck and love on this journey.  I know you can do this.  The first horrible step is gone and behind you.  Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Soon the journey won't seem as long and you might even find adventure along the way.

Much love,
Sylk
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Zillah

So it's getting close to New Year's Eve. Which, as I mentioned in this first post of this blog, is a painful time of the year for me. I was kind of hoping writing about my experiences would exorcise some of my inner demons, and be a catharsis of sorts.

Not sure it's working, sadly.

The past decade or so, I've usually spent New Year's Eve curled up in the fetal position in my bedroom, with the lights off and the door locked, trying unsuccessfully to not relive the nightmare of being raped. The past two years, I've managed to not quite be that bad, spending it with a few friends for support, having a quiet and sober - but good - evening.

I get the feeling this one's not going to be as good. I find myself dwelling on a lot of negative things of late, and already I find myself wishing I could just curl up in a ball and make the world go away.

Not all of this revolves around my experiences of being raped. My father passed away suddenly a few months ago, and I'm still struggling to cope with that ... and the relationship I've been in the past few years is falling apart. So there's that. But all those old feelings of helplessness, of dread and self-loathing ... they're back. And they're just incredibly ... strong.

I really don't want to be ... I don't know, controlled by the hell I've been through. Or owned by it. Yes, maybe owned is the better word. I'm tired of feeling helpless and numb. And I don't want to lock myself in dark rooms anymore.

So I have tickets for a concert in New York City this New Year's Eve. It's one of my favorite performers, and it should be insanely fun. I'm hoping that when the time comes, I'll get all dressed up, walk out the door, and go ... and when that damn countdown to the New Year begins, there's a big, blissful smile on my face, and it's nothing but an amazing and happy evening.

I hope.

God, I hope so.

rahatngt

I truly truly wish for a beautiful fun New Years Eve for you, one that will set a new tradition for you from now on.

persephone325

Well I hope you are able to have fun and go to the concert. :) Nobody blames you for reliving what happened when New Years comes around. It's been about 5 months since my car accident, and I still get panic attacks when I have to get in a car. It does take time, and every day is a step in the right direction.

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I came to this site looking for something else.  I stumbled onto your story by accident.  It moved me.  I am so sorry for what you have had go through and are still living with.

I wish you the best in 2013 and the years to come.

Zillah

Couple of things. I'm not sure if some of them are relevant to this blog, but whatever. It's my blog.

New Year's Eve this past year went spectacularly well, much to my own surprise and delight. :) I won't lie, I had one or two moments where I was uncomfortable and started to freak out ... but that's all they were. Moments. All in all, I had a great time, and I smiled a lot, and I was very happy ... and I can't really remember the last time I could say that about a New Year's. So ... progress. Yay!

On the downside of things, the relationship I've been in the past two years is not in a good place, and is probably more-or-less over. And I've realized that this hurts way, way more than the end of any other relationship I've had, well, since being raped all those years ago. I've had a bit of time to think about all my different relationships over the past couple of weeks ... and I've finally recognized that for most of them, I was always 1) emotionally guarded, and 2) always chose to pick partners where I had a default excuse to end the relationship if we got too close. So whenever the relation hit a "too serious" stage in my mind - and required a level of intimate emotional commitment that I really couldn't handle at that point - I'd just use that excuse to bail out on things. So, unconsciously ... I was entering relationships doomed to fail from the beginning.

The past one was one I definitely didn't want to fail. And it's the first relationship I had in a while where I bared my soul to my partner, and we did connect on a very intimate, emotional level. Honestly, she was the first person I deeply cared about - and loved - in ways I never thought I could care about anyone.

And now we're drifting apart, and it's probably over.

Still ... the simple fact that I've let down all my emotional walls, and I'm willing to risk the hurt of a broken heart ... I guess that means something.

I hope.

I also learned at a doctor's appointment last month that I'm not capable of ever having children. Which ... well, I don't quite know how I feel about that. Melancholy, I guess. There's a part of me that's slightly relieved, since I've always feared that I'd be a shitty mom. I'm still an emotional basket case at times, and I have a bad temper, and god only knows how many other sorts of issues ... so I guess I feel a baby would deserve a way better mother than I think I could be. On the other hand, though, I feel like a choice has been taken away from me. It's no longer my decision to be a parent or not ... and that thought has been gnawing away at me the past few weeks, and it depresses the shit out of me.

(Yes, I'm aware that adoption is a possibility. And it may be, some day. But it's not something I'm ready to look into or consider right at this very moment.)

So ... things.

Some good, some bad.

Trying to appreciate the good, and deal with the bad as best I can. :)

Wolfling72

I read this and read this and then read this again. I want so badly to hug you, tell you that you are good and strong and awesome because well...you are.

I would share my own story but I won't. Too much, too painful and to be honest tis YOUR blog and your place and I would feel like I was overstepping.

I just wanted you to know that your words, your actions, your heart...made me cry and remember my own pain...and it also made me recall something I told a very good friend of mine, a while back.

You are a survivor. So am I. But we are both far more than that...and in some instances...far less. We are here because we are strong. We are here because we fight.

Some days drawing breath is the most you can do. Just be proud that you are still here to do so. If you are still breathing, it means the assholes haven't won. And that is a good thing.


Stay blessed and love yourself.
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Cerelia

I read your story, and unfortunately I didn't make it through most of the responses due to thoughts of my own stories coming up. I can't even imagine how hard that must be and I greatly commend you for surviving and being able to share your story. When I was younger, I have trouble remembering my exact age because I have found to have some holes in my memories from those times, but I believe I was somewhere from 7-9, I spent the night over at a friend's house. A female friend. She had two brothers and I ended up sleeping in the same bed as her. This was common since we were two little girls; I think she was a few years older than me. In the middle of the night she proceeded to pull down my underwear, since we'd slept in long T-shirts and underwear, and touch me. I didn't want it. It felt wrong to me. She coaxed me into thinking it would be okay and she proceeded to "explore" me, as she called it. I shared this information with one other person and he told on us. I remember convincing my parents, as well as hers that the boy made the whole story up thanks to some ambiguous wording. Other than that I have never really shared this story with anyone. For years it hasn't really affected me; I am 19 now. However for some reason the whole ordeal has been coming up in my mind more lately. Other than this one situation, the girl, who I'll name Amber, attended day care with me and often times made the girls kiss in the closet or do other sexual affiliated things. I was in a very messed up day care and as a result never said anything. Since the first happening with our parents getting involved, I thought it was so horrible that I was never to bring the subject up again. I don't really know if this is the correct place to display this story, and I sincerely apologize if it is not.

Zillah

@Wolfling72: Thank you. :)

@Cerelia: ~hugs~ this is definitely the right place for stories like yours. Part of the way I've been trying to deal with and understand the things that have happened to me is to put them into words. It doesn't always work, but it's infinitely better than ignoring them, or pretending they don't exist. Posting your experiences, I hope, will help you to make sense of them, or at least cope better with them. :)

SweetSerenade

I have a story, I would like to share. Just two of my experiences, if that is alright? I wanted to ask permission first, because I wanted to make sure I wasn't stepping on the owner of the blogs toes. I wanted to ask permission first, since what I have to spill out... may not seem 'as bad' as what others have been through, but I want to share my story. I want to let it out.

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Zillah

It's all right. :) If you want to share, by all means, please do

SweetSerenade

Quote from: Zillah on February 20, 2013, 04:37:18 PM
It's all right. :) If you want to share, by all means, please do
Thank you Zillah, and thank everyone that has shared their empowering and heart breaking stories.

Being a survivor, is not as easy as people want to make it out to be. Every morning, it is a hard task, and every night, it is the same. Just to wake up, or go to sleep, and whisper to yourself 'I'm a survivor, it wasn't my fault, they did it, they were stupid and selfish, it wasn't my fault.'. It's not ok, and it will take a long time before it is. It's going to be something that will effect the rest of your life. For me, I only experienced on 'instance' of rape, but it lasted over the course of a few weeks. The other instance, of something life changing, was actually a molestation when I was 13.


People may say 'molestation is nowhere near as bad as rape', I simply state it's subjective on the person. I spent an entire summer, being molested. I was never vaginally raped, or anally, but the things he did to me made me wish I had been. Always, while he forced me to do these things, he whispered how much he loved me. He'd tell me how good I was. It's why I can't stand men talking to me in sex, I can't stand them whispering how much they love me, and how good it is. I need to know them for awhile now, before it settles into my brain, and doesn't trigger anything.

I'm not going into much detail on this, because I was quite young when it happened. I was only 13, and my body forced me to forget most of it... when I moved away from him. I started a new life in a new school. Completely unaware of my past.


When I was seventeen, I started to get some memories back. They came in flashes, and freaked me out. Finally, I fully understood what had happened. I entered my Junior year of High School, got a creative writing class. The teacher asked us to write a story, a writing prompt if you would. Could be as long or as short as we wanted. But it needed to be about what made us into the people we were today.

So I wrote about my life story, how I was raised, and all I had been through up till that point. The teacher called me up after class, and said he needed to see me after school. When I showed up he said  "Is all of this true" and I nodded, told him he was. Then he uttered the line that still chills me to the bone. "You're perfect, drops your pants and bend over the desk."... He grabbed my wrist and slammed it down on the desk.


He told me there was no getting away, he had locked the door... no one would hear me scream. Then he said... one thing... that made me stop fighting. "If you don't do whatever I tell you, your sister will lose her star slot in the Choir."... I couldn't fight against him, the one large weakness I have is threatening my siblings. It took me a long time, to be able to fight back against all that. Then he did it, he came up behind me, and took it away from me.

Mind you, at this point of being seventeen I had just started having my period. I had no figure at all. There was 2x4's who were hotter then me.

I spent an entire three weeks, dealing with all of it. The pain, the shame, the humiliation. Trying to get someone to listen to me, trying to get my voice heard. I was told the same thing, that I was just lashing out. That I was lying. He'd punish me for it too, and sometimes he'd taunt me about not being heard.



No, my story is not as traumatic as others. But let's face it, it's all based on how the person reacts to it. The simple fact of the matter was, in both of my instances the person got away with it because of the society around me. The society that says "Tell us if something like this is happening"... And then when the person comes forward, they call them a liar. Say they are acting out, that the person they are accusing is too nice of a person.

Rape is not right, no matter if it's just molestation or rape. You have the right to say no. It will be a battle every single day, and you may have permanent long lasting damage. But you need to make the choice to continue onward. You make the choice to trust and love. If a man/woman truly loves you, they will give you time. They will sit and hold you, listen as you cry. They will help you get over it, to the best of their ability. Just remember, you are not alone. There are others out there, with quieted voices.... asking the same thing

How do I survive?

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