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

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

Previous topic - Next topic

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Zillah


Cycle

Quote from: Zillah on December 12, 2014, 09:57:54 AM
At the moment, I can't get on a subway without being physically ill.

Don't blame you one bit.  Seriously, if anything, I admire what you did.  Sonofabitch tried to do something and you fought back.  And won.  That's says a lot about who you are.

QuoteI hope for some good in 2015.

I will do the same for you.  Hang in there, Zillah.


Ariel

*tightly hugs Zillah*

Just like all the other years, you can make it through this one, beautiful. You're strong and brave. I really hope you're doing okay tonight. ♥
Not accepting new RPs

Apologies | Ons/Offs | Finds | Requests + Rumbelle Craving

TheMusician

Thank you, so, so much for sharing your story. I know it isn't easy. And the only reason I say that is because I've never, ever shared mine.

Just as ImaginedScenes said, this is your space. I'm not going to take away from it either by slapping my story on here. I don't want to look or sound like a victim, and I don't want to seem like I'm just fishing for attention. Plus, I don't think I could share my story on here just yet.

However, I used to go to a therapist for anger issues....I lied to him for four years about where those issues came from. But I think I'll give him a call sometime today. I'm ready to talk. And I want to thank you for giving me the ability to do that.

:) Thank you, Zillah.
The Most Musically Music Man. *Insert monocle-bearing gentleman*

Characters: https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=222634.0

Zillah

You're quite welcome. :) I'm glad my rambling posts here do some good on occasion.

Zillah

Paradoxes.

The thing I constantly crave is sleep, but it's a good night lately if I can manage two or three hours of uninterrupted sleep. And that usually has something to do with some combination of Ambien and Scotch.

My friends keep telling me I'm brave, but all I want to do is curl up in a ball and hide from the rest of the world.

I want the person I love most in the world to hold me tight and never let me go, except I can't stand being touched and I keep pushing her away, even though I don't want to, and even though I know it hurts her.

I tell myself constantly to be brave, but I always see a coward in the mirror.

I read the words of the person who started this blog and sometimes wonder who she is. There's days that she's a total stranger to me.

The happiest things in my life make me want to cry.

I don't know anymore.

All I know is that I'm trying. Whatever that means.

Cycle

The definition of bravery is not the absence of fear.

But the determination to proceed, in the face of fear.

What you are doing, by trying, is bravery, Zillah.  And that is worth everything.


Dimir

Zillah I am so sorry for what have suffered over the past 15 years, however I can not truly understand what you went through since I'm not a sexual assault victim. Always believe in yourself and you are truly admirable.
My PM Box is always open for those who wish to chat with someone.
Major fan of Magic The Gathering, Sailor Moon and Pokemon
O/O's: https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=221869.0

ultraperv9000

I'm a survivor of rape, as well. It's opened my eyes to a lot of things, but has shaken me for what will likely be the rest of my life. You're right, Zillah, it's not just a one-shot event that you never have to think about again. I relive it in my mind, often right at the time when it's least convenient, healthy, or sane.

I was an eight year-old boy that went to a gymnastics studio. I had a friend who was four years older than me. My parents decided to take me to his house. I wanted to talk about Pokemon and toys and stuff, but he wound up tricking me into going into the bathroom with him. Completely naive, I had no idea that when he locked the door and pressured me into taking my clothes off and getting on all fours in the bathtub, he was going to try to penetrate me. But, it happened, and he was already inside me by the time I knew what was happening. Thank goodness, his older sister came and banged on the door after about five minutes of this, but I definitely didn't know what was going on, and never could have imagined that this was something that I ever consented to. I left bewildered, and feeling wronged and violated for reasons I couldn't really describe.

It wasn't until I joined the Boy Scouts a few years later, and picked up the handbook, that I realized what happened. I remember it as vividly as the rape itself. I was sitting in my father's truck in the front passenger seat, and read through the manual until I got to the section on molestation. I was able to put the pieces together, and that's when everything fell apart in my head. That wasn't just some weird "experimentation". That was rape. I had been raped. I felt, for what was probably the first time in my life, the corrosive anxiety that still floods me when I'm stressed. From that point forward, I would shut down when things got tough. I would just sit and wait for it to go away, just like I had to when I was trapped in that bathroom with the rapist. It's been a long way up since then.

It may be somewhat unique that, in my personal experience, I didn't actually understand what had happened until I had thought about it, and had enough information about it to make an informed decision. But here's the thing: I never told a soul. The rapist moved to another state about three months afterwards. I didn't know how to contact him. I probably could have followed paper trails and such to get to him. But the chief reason I didn't was because of this pernicious thought that males are not raped. Already a rather insecure kid thanks to other issues, I wouldn't have dared face further ostracism from my peers, and knock down my own fragile identity for a crime which I would likely never see redressed. I just didn't trust other boys, or adults both male and female, to not either mock my perceived weakness, or coddle me for being a victim. Both of these questioned my maleness, which was already rather shaky from mostly abstaining from "manly" activities and behaviors. I thought that admitting to being raped by another male would destroy the last shred of masculinity I had managed to develop since then.

I've since learned better, though. I cursed myself for my naivete for years, but eventually realized that not only can I never change the past, but in the circumstances, I was only doing the best that I could in a coercive and manipulative situation. I just wasn't equipped to handle it, and I shouldn't be blamed for it. It's like putting a 700-pound rock on top of someone's chest, then blaming them for not being athletic enough when they cannot move it aside. Victim-blaming is always absurd.

Trauma like this is always lasting, it doesn't go away, and it's a Sisyphean battle to make sure that you don't backslide. I suppose another important thing to realize is that sometimes, a survivor will backslide. Work to reflect, understand, and seek support, but blaming yourself for letting yourself slip is not only pointless, but in a way, a form of victim-blaming in itself.

I hope more men who have experiences like this can come forward, but there's no pressure from me to do so.

Zillah

I'm so sorry to hear of your experiences, but glad to know that you're working to cope and deal with them. That's the important part. You can't change what happened, but you can try to make sure it doesn't affect your life negatively as you move forward. There will probably be days that it will, but hopefully those days are few and far between.

And yes, anyone can rape anyone, irrespective of gender - male on female, male on male, female on female, female on male. Pretending otherwise isn't acknowledging reality.

Ceralilly

I am the Mistress of Hearts, the Consort of Broken Ones, the Lover of Lost Souls, and the Queen of Goodbyes

Ceralilly

*from...LOL I Have NOT had my coffee fix this morning. Heh
I am the Mistress of Hearts, the Consort of Broken Ones, the Lover of Lost Souls, and the Queen of Goodbyes

kckolbe

It's a shame it isn't discussed more often, considering how common it is.  All but two of the women I've been with have been raped.
Ons/Offs  A/A  Oath of the Drake
(From the Penis Game) Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Penis
I love a wet nymph.  "Letting some guy have [her] just to have another woman is a losing trade"

Buffy: The Vampire Slayer(IC#2)
Intro Thread

Zillah

#88
In the long term, it's something that's not only important to discuss, but healthy.

In the short term, though, it's painful, on so many levels, and I understand completely why so many people choose not to talk about it. I remember trying to tell some of my close friends when I was raped the first time, as well as campus security, and being shocked and hurt by the less-than-supportive reactions I got from some. (My rapist was a mutual friend of some of my friends, which complicated things.)

But, still:

Maybe it wasn't really rape, just a misunderstanding.
You probably led him on.
He wouldn't do that. You're a liar.
What were you wearing?
Things happen when people drink, sometimes they get carried away ...


Meanwhile, none of that changes the fact that he wanted sex, I said no multiple times, and then he proceeded to rape me anyway.

I lost some people in my life who I had considered friends, had a negative stigma attached to me for rest of college ... at the time, I really regretted saying anything about it to anyone. It's why I mostly stayed silent about subsequent sexual assaults. Not worth the headache or heartache. It was easier - or so I thought then - to just sweep things under the rug, and pretend they didn't happen.

Now, I encourage talking about it. I strongly believe it's the best way to deal with such a traumatic experience, and to begin the process of healing, at least as things can best be healed. But I do think it's something a person needs to be ready to talk about, or at least think they're ready to do so ... and be ready to possibly deal with the potential backlash of said discussion. I still have a few experiences in my life I've only told to my therapist - not my family, not my friends, not even my ex or my fiancée, who are the two people I love most in the world. It's not something I'm ready to do yet.

Zillah

Coping is a weird thing at the moment.

On the one hand, I'm better than I have been in awhile. That's partly due to seeing a good therapist, and partly due to finding a good medication dosage for anxiety/depression that doesn't leave me feeling like a zombie. I don't feel disgusting all the time. I'm not completely terrified to go out somewhere and get a coffee. I don't feel isolated and alone.

On the other ... my most recent serious relationship is on hold. That's for a lot of reasons, but one of the main ones is because it's hard for me to emotionally connect with her. It's back to something I've talked about before - she wants so bad to be there for me, and to help me, and ... I push her away from that. Even though I know it's stupid. And I'm disconnecting emotional relationships from physical ones again - I'm fine with sex again, but I'm not fine with being intimate, if that makes sense. Sex only works for me right now if there's zero emotional component to it ... which, again, not good.

So. I don't know how I'm doing. It's not so much two steps forward, one step back as much as dancing around in circles. Some things get better, others worse. And I wish I knew how to deal with it all better.

It's frustrating.

Twisted Crow

Personal peeves with outsider opinions and thoughts like that that upset me in general...

"Maybe it wasn't really rape, just a misunderstanding."

Rape isn't something one "misunderstands". Neither is molestation (from my experience). It is impulse-driven, regardless of the motivation or "intention". It is a choice.

"You probably led him on."

Even if you did lead him on... you would have every right to pull the plug on the whole scenario. Unfortunately, people without a sense of honor choose not to control themselves. Again, one chooses to assault... to take or hurt, just as much as one chooses to nurture, protect and mend damage that another coward does.

"What were you wearing?"

While it is recommended one dress appropriately to not readily invite people that do so on a platter... even wearing "slutty clothes" doesn't give anyone any "right" to treat another human being that way. Period.

"Things happen when people drink, sometimes they get carried away ...

I drink all the time to drown my sorrows and self-medicate. Even when I'm with other girls, even if I find them attractive and even if I lust for them... I could not rest easy at night if I had decided to act on one night's "need" if it meant fracturing another human soul for years. Point being, I call BS on that too. Being drunk is another cowardly excuse for one to hide behind out fear of accountiblity for one's actions. One can drink themselves to stupor and in my eyes, it never distorts between what is ultimately right and wrong.

Those that rend the hearts of people with scars that take many years to heal with this kind of attack are the true cowards. Not you, Zillah. I mean it.

Twisted Crow

Just wanted to say that you've given me courage to open up my past and face it with courage. I didn't feel like I had that power until you happened.  :-)

SapphireHaven

I really appreciate this post. And I love the title; a survivor, not a victim. Similar experiences with a family member left me feeling like garbage for more than a few years of my life and I've almost made it over the "it was my fault" bump, but reading your post made quite a bit of headway.
O/O

Fury Aphrodisia

My problem, I think, with my experience (That's an amazing distinction, by the way) is that ... well, where do you run to? When something "normal" happens to you, you can run away and hide and push it away. But what do you do if the only place in the world that is supposed to be safe for you - your own body - is the place where you can never leave and are never safe? You can't ever clean it out. You can't ever forget that feeling. When someone makes you angry, you can turn away from it. But with this,  the very fabric of you, now, is tainted with their presence.

I won't go through the details of my experience, but I can say that as much to myself as anyone else, it was particularly disturbing to realize that I tried to take a bath in near-boiling water (Causing severe burns) because it was the only way I could get the internal reaches of me to feel clean. Like I could be myself again without parts of them still inside me. It's in my body and in my mind, that moment of complete helplessness, and it will never get out. People who have never gone through that will never know the desperation to have one minute's safety, one minute's healing.

I've had people ask me, too, "How long are you going to keep punishing everyone around you for something those guys did?" I wish now I'd had the presence of mind to ask him (it's usually a him, for whatever reason) "How quickly would you silence me?" At least more often than I have.

"Why didn't you just _______________(Fill in the blank as you wish)?" Alright, then you show me how it's done.

"I can't believe that would happen to you. You're so ________________(Whatever you want to say or observe)." You're missing the point.

It had nothing to do with me. I could have done nothing to prevent it any more than a chair prevents being sit on. They could, and they did, use force. At that point, I was not a human being. I was neither person nor female. I was a project, an object, a means to an end. They could not see me.

And they don't, now. They don't see those moments when I can smell scotch and everything in me lashes out. When I need to use all the violence I didn't that night to push it away. (Frankly, if I'd known I'd have been fighting this so long, I wouldn't have decided against lashing out as I had when I thought "If I just stop, let them do it, it'll be over and I can get away.") They don't see those moments when I start to feel that swirling in my head and my mind associates it with the tearing and the bleeding and the pain. They don't feel that. They don't see it, or hear it echo in every time men laugh.

It's been a decade and a half, some reactions have dulled. Now, sometimes, it's just a moment when my heart beats too hard, too fast, before I realize that I've managed to surround myself with good men, innocent men. Sometimes it's the way my breath catches and it makes me feel like I'm being strangled, all because of someone's hands on my shoulders. But I can swallow it back, and remind myself that I'm a force, now, that I wasn't at sixteen. That I wasn't that night.

It had nothing to do with me, and I am the one who has lost the definition of self to the inability of another to adhere to the boundaries between where he ended and I began.

I choose the people I'm around carefully. I remind myself daily that too much time has passed - all physical trace is gone now.

But the mental aspect, of remembering that there is not a place in the world I am safe if my body could not be that for me, that is something that will stick with me for a long time. It has made me more compassionate. It has made me more thoughtful, and in some ways brought me back from edges of damage that might have been caused by other things. But I have to remind myself that people who have never experienced it are a blessing. They've never had to go through that, and the thought is beautiful. I have to focus on that before I can deal with answering why I have to struggle not to see myself as half a person: Half myself, and half of someone I never wanted.
Fire and Flora - My Ons and Offs  - Updated May 17th '17 ---- Aphrodisia Acedia - (A&A's) - Updated September 9th '17 ---- Sinful Inspirations - Story Ideas - Updated May 17th '17

~I am not the voice of reason: I am the voice of truth. I do not fall gently on hopeful ears. I am strident and abrasive. I do not bend to the convenience of comfort. I am unyeilding. I do not change with wind and whim, but am always standing, unchanging, steady, constant and persevering. You rebuke me when you need me most, yet still I fight. The enemies of truth are everywhere. But I am not defeated.~

Shekinah

After talking to a person here on the site who’ll remain nameless and reading this topic, seeing as there are so many out there who went through something similar, I decided to also share my story.

As some of you already might know, I grew up in Malaysia. I had a great childhood with five older siblings, all brothers. So I’ve never really been shy around boys and such. Though when I turned 14 and all my friends started to talk about dating and such stuff, I noticed I wasn’t really interested in boys. Instead I found myself more and more attracted to girls. For two years I struggled with myself as in the village I grew up, being gay was looked at the same as you killing someone. But realizing this is who I was, that I liked girls, in particular was in love with my best friend who also happened to be one of the most popular girls in school, decided to make a great spectacle out of telling people how I felt. After all I ‘ve always been a sucker for romantic movies and thought that perhaps if I made a big show when declaring my love for her, everything would turn out okay. You know it’s like you realize your life isn’t a movie and such but you still hope to get to that happy ending.

So I decided to use my birthday as the perfect time to come out. Most of my family and all of my friends would be together and such would be the perfect moment. Well I can tell you I think my 16th birthday party has been the party that’s been talked about the most in town. Sadly not in the way I liked it. From the moment I declared I was a lesbian and in love with my best friend, I became an outcast. My so called friends didn’t talk to me anymore, in town everybody turned away from me if I passed by and my own family. The one group of people that normally should have your back no matter what acted as if I died that moment. I’m going to spare you all the details but for a month it was as if I was a ghost walking amongst people. Trust me that is a feeling you never ever want to experience.

The only person to stick by me was my dad. He also realized that he had to make a choice, either stick by me and see his marriage fail and lose all of his friends or treat me the same as everyone else. He chose to do the first and called his friend who lived in the UK. They had always been as close as brothers before the friend moved to UK. And when he had started his own business he had told my dad if he or one of his sons ever needed a job there, he should call and ask for it. So my dad did, explained the situation and his friend helped us with everything.

A month and two weeks after me coming out, we were on a plain to the UK. He had a work permit and I a student permit (all thanks to some well-placed local bribes). Here our new lives could start as he had a job and I had been accepted as a transfer student to an international high school. Off course there were a few issues for me. My English wasn’t that great. I mean I could make myself understandable and when people talked to me I understood most of it. My reading and writing however was horrible as the same could be said about my math. As this wasn’t an uncommon thing, the school had teachers that volunteered to help students catch up on these things after school.

Also when I first arrived at the school and was asked to introduce myself, I told everyone I was a lesbian. My dad had kept telling me that I should do this, after all this was who I was and then I wouldn’t have to worry about making friend who later would disappear on me again. And he was right. Some people didn’t like that about me but most just accepted me for who I was. So life became good, I had some good friends, found a local club where I could continue practicing Wushu and had teachers helping me out. I even can be called happy at that time. After all a new life had begun for me and it looked so good.

Sadly enough Tuesday 11 december 2007 that happiness was taken away. Normally after school, the teacher helping me with my math and English would come over around 7pm until 9pm. Some occasions I went to his house and he would teach me there. Normally he should have come over but he called and said when going home after school, he had sprained his ankle and couldn’t move so well and asked if I could come over. Thinking nothing off it as I have sprained my ankle several times I just went to his house. The thing is normally his wife was there, or at least his baby son was there while his wife was gone to work. Now both weren’t there and when I asked about it, he just said she was gone to see her mother as she wasn’t feeling to well and had taken the baby with her.

Again this should have been a warning but again I didn’t really think about it. Why would I, he was my teacher and I had been in his house before. Though what really got me suspicious was that normally when I would arrive, he would have his books out and ready. This time they weren’t. So when I asked about he just said he was going to give me a special lesson before closing the distance between us. Off course I realized what was happening and tried to resist.

Now I do Wushu and at practice had even once taken down a full grown man by accident. But I’m also small of posture and skinny so my strength has never been that great. So when he grabbed me, all I could do was try to break free from his grip. I managed to get in some elbows and kicks but when he smacked me against the head several times and burst my lip, I stopped fighting him. Why? I was scared to death and hurting and just wanted him to stop hitting me.

Though I tried to fight him once again when he tried to pull down my underwear, determined a few blows to the head wouldn’t stop me. After all I was still a virgin and didn’t want to lose it like this. In the end I gave up when he started to choke me as I was terrified that if I kept on fighting he would just kill me. And even though the rape itself lasted no more than five minutes, it still felt like those five minutes lasted forever. When he was done, he just threw my pants back at me and told me that if I ever told anyone about this, he would make sure I would be on the next plane back to Malaysia.

My luck at that time, or bad luck depending on how you look at it, was my dad working evening shifts. So he didn’t see the state I was in or that I was back home way earlier than normal. Scared to death that my teacher had the power to send me back, I know naïve of me but at that time I truly believed it, I played my head injuries off as practice going wrong. It wasn’t until he asked me what was bothering me, as I had been acting very strange, a month later that I finally told him what had happened. 

He then took me to the cops and to the schools administrator and told them about what happened to me. I would never forget the reactions of them. The police told my dad that if what I was telling was true, I had waited too long to report it.  Not to mention they had doubts that my teacher, who was an upstanding member of the community, would do such a thing and this looked more like an attempt of some Asian immigrant in trying to get rich by claiming to be raped and hoping to get a big pay out in court. But this wasn’t America so I shouldn’t think it was that easy. The school’s reaction was that they also didn’t believe me. They just thought it was me making up lies in an attempt to hide that I wasn’t learning things as fast as I should and that my teacher would never do such a thing as he had been a teacher for such a long time and never had there been one complaint about him. Instead I should count myself lucky to get his help.  (These things are the very good and brushed up version of the things they actually said but this is what it came down to.)

Off course rumors spread and for the second time in my life I became an social outcast. Only two other people, two of my classmates and to this day best friends believed me. The rest gave me those cold looks. No longer able to take see those dead eyes stare at me, I broke down completely. I didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t leave me room except to use the bathroom and maybe eat from time to time. Also didn’t sleep a lot and well thought it would be better if I just didn’t exist anymore.

My dad with the help of one of my friends mother took me to a therapist. The first session my dad sat in and explained what had happened back in Malaysia and what had happened now, and talked about my hobbies and things I liked before leaving me alone with him. That first session and the two there after I just remember me sitting there, not saying a thing while he just talked about daily life, stuff that was in the newspaper and things he had been doing.

The fourth session is actually also the reason I’m on this site right now as he suggested we should do a story together. He explained that he did roleplaying games with his old college buddies and knowing that I liked to read fantasy novels he suggested we together created a story of our own and created our own characters who we would play like. As he explained how this would work and how I had to think of me as that character and feel as how that character would feel, I got interested in it. After all he sounded so exciting and made it sound like a very fun thing to do, I started to write with him.

It’s this that helped me open up again a little to my friends as they would also write with me. And well they knew that if I made it so my character was hungry, I was hungry and kinda communicated that way before talking to them again.

Though what really helped me was another girl of my class that an half year after me, was also raped by the same teacher. Only this time he was caught by his wife coming home early. Off course now suddenly everyone believed me and were all apologetic and such. But I didn’t really care about that. On the advice of my therapist, I went to the other girl that the teacher had been raping and talked to her. It is this what has helped me the most, knowing I wasn’t alone. Knowing there was someone else out there who knew how I felt.

I also think we helped each other through it. Even now that she has moved to live in Dublin, we still keep in touch and still think of her as a sister. Sure it still isn’t easy and the first few times someone I didn’t know tried to touch me had me freaking out. But I can say that I no longer hide myself and after finishing high school, I even worked as a waitress for almost four years before. Okay that wasn’t easy, especially not in the beginning and there have been times drinks have ended up in peoples laps and once a wrist might accidentally be broken when a man tried to move his hand under my skirt. Something I only started wearing again after I got the job as waitress and I had to wear it. After all I was scared that if I showed to much skin or looked to cute I might end up having another experience like that. However now I’m comfortable again wearing skirts, dresses and a bit more revealing clothes. After all I realize now at that time I was wearing a sweater and jeans and it still didn't stop him from raping me. So I keep telling myself it doesn't matter what clothes you wear, just make sure you think you look cute in it and you feel comfortable wearing them. And for me this helps.

And while I’m happy now and have good friends taking care of me and I can say I enjoy myself again, there are still days I just don’t want anyone near me and have to push myself to get out of bed and be the happy jolly person people are used to see. It’s those days that are the worst for me as if anyone then even touches me, I either end up freaking out and turning into a sobbing wreck after calming down or get so sick that I can’t hold anything down.

As those days no longer outweigh the good ones, I recently started to think about dating again. Don’t know if I’m ready for it and how I really will react when someone will become more intimate. So we’ll just see how that goes and take it one step at a time. But I also know that I can’t let this control my life and have to try to make the best out of it. I’ve been given a second chance by coming here and I don’t want to lose that chance. And I like to think a few good things came out of all this mess. I made three awesome friends, one who is even more like a sister than just a friend. And it got me into role playing and that had me ending up here. Having me meet a group of fantastic people so far and more to come in the future.   

Those that wonder what happened to the teacher: he got arrested, had his teachers license taken away and was sentenced to jail for a long long time.

And well that’s all I wanted to say. So thank you for reading my story and if there are people who want to talk or have questions, feel free to pm me any time.

Why don’t we drink to me and my reflection in your lovely eyes?

My O/O's
Have you taken care of yourself today?

Fury Aphrodisia

Thank you for sharing your story with us, Shekinah. I appreciate it.
Fire and Flora - My Ons and Offs  - Updated May 17th '17 ---- Aphrodisia Acedia - (A&A's) - Updated September 9th '17 ---- Sinful Inspirations - Story Ideas - Updated May 17th '17

~I am not the voice of reason: I am the voice of truth. I do not fall gently on hopeful ears. I am strident and abrasive. I do not bend to the convenience of comfort. I am unyeilding. I do not change with wind and whim, but am always standing, unchanging, steady, constant and persevering. You rebuke me when you need me most, yet still I fight. The enemies of truth are everywhere. But I am not defeated.~

Shekinah

My pleasure, just wanted to let people and Zillah know they are not alone and I can understand perfectly what they are going through and that if they need anyone to talk to I'm always willing to listen and talk to them. Know how important that is.

Why don’t we drink to me and my reflection in your lovely eyes?

My O/O's
Have you taken care of yourself today?

Beautiful Mystery

I just wanted to say something about all the people who have posted in here. I just want to say that all of you are strong. While what happened to you may have made you feel weak, worthless or such, all of you are strong in my eyes (and certainly others). It takes courage and strength to not only talk about it, but have a positive outlook on life. You may not think that your story will help anyone, but it might be the person who is just reading the thread, afraid to post themselves and they feel empowered by your post. I also want to make it clear that the people who read this thread, having a similar experience and haven't posted yet... you are not weak because you haven't posted. I think anyone who has survived rape (male or female) and have the courage to continue on are brave. They say despite what has happened, I move forward with my life. It may take them weeks, months or years. You are not weak for taking longer to cope with what happened. But just remember, you are never alone. There are others who have been in your shoes before and the people who stick with you in these times are the people who are worth keeping around.
Check A/A
The devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns.
He comes dressed as everything you have wished for.
O2//A2//Request//Boudoir

Annaamarth

It took me a couple of tries to put this together.  I couldn't make it feel right, and I didn't want to ramble- though I think forcing my mind and hands to put all that text up here was good.

But none of it worked, and none of it felt right.  I guess all I can say is "I wish," and tell you that I admire everyone who has shared their story here- and that my prayers are with you, as well as all of the people who haven't shared their stories.
Ons/Offs

My sins are pride, wrath and lust.

Zillah

I'm glad the words I've written seem to be of some help to others.

It's your collective words that mean so much more to me.

Thank you, everyone, for sharing what you've shared.