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Still crying.. can't get over it.... and i'm trying my best to forget it.. to move on..
Still think about suicide.. how to end it all...how to get rid of this feelings..
But somehow still manage to smile .. laugh... jokes with others..
While at 3 a.m .. 😭😭
I'm all alone.. 😢 and think.... i don't wanna live anymore.. this isn't fair.. why no one get it?? Why people put blame on me?? It's not like i wanna get that things happen to me! Why no one ever considered it.. never ask me how i feel..how i ever survive this depression anxiety all this things...
I don't care how many years its gonna take.. but why.. no one believe me... it's not my fault.. i don't want all of this things to happen.. i don't want..
I wanna dissapear.. i want to forget all of this.. 😢
Sorry for my broken english.. 😭😭
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Told I didn't matter. By my father no less. This is an old memory, I don't know why I still remember it. He told me once that if he and my mother had only had ten kids. Then, it wouldn't have mattered if I ran away. It wouldn't matter if I fucked up royally since they'd have ten, precious children who wouldn't have done the things I did. I'll never be good enough for them, will I? I'll never be good enough for anyone and maybe that's okay. I'll be alone, with a revolving door for people to come in and go out. Perhaps I like it better that way. I never want to hear someone say those words again. "you're not good enough".
Yep. Fuck this life.
I take public transportation and once again as a woman - beautiful inside and out are we all , sassy, funny, strong, and cool - I was reminded by a fucktard that I'm just here to be harassed.
By the way, lately I've been reading quotes from Karen Straughan. She's on youtube. Wow, Karen. Just wow.
I don't recommend reading or listening to this horribly self hating yet hilariously bitter muppet unless you've had a lot of strong morning coffee. But if you ever thought you were, you know, special, she's the antidote.
Off to my original thought this morning. Yea, here it is. People are fucks. I've got no illusions about that. They are always judging you online and off, nursing whatever secret bitterness and jealousy resides in their bitter hearts. If you don't threaten them, they might treat you OK. If you do, forget it. People are incredible fucks. I've known that for years.
And, I live in the land of the Trump. And I've noticed men becoming bolder. The cockroaches have come out to play.
So I take the bus and often, due to living where I do and the time I take it, I'm sometimes the ONLY FUCKING PERSON ON THE FUCKING BUS.
I guess for some dudes this is too much to handle. Female bus drivers don''t bother me - and incidentally, in my life, I've had ONE incident of harassment from a woman, a lesbian woman I lived with in a homeless shelter. Otherwise, women don't harass me. Men do.
So I make the mistake - the beauty? The kindness? Of talking to this guy. He wears cheap aftershave, has a beard, sunglasses, and smiles a lot. I don't get any particularly vibe because cockroaches are good at hiding what they are . Read about narcissists and listen to youtubers talk about them. Wolf in sheep's clothing indeed, Mama. He is smart. People aren't what they do, they just are what they are.
And we somehow end up talking about politics and then he leans over slightly at some point and says, "As a woman, would you make love to Trump?" after discussing in a humorous way his current wife.
I'm not stunned so much as realising that once again the cockroaches are everywhere. THIS iS FUCKING PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION. AND ASKING ME ANY QUESTION IN WHICH SEX IS PART OF THE EQUATION IS NOT GONNA FLY.
I said no wrinkling up my face in shock and disgust. At his question, at him, at life, at how anytime I open up the door one iota and am kind to sexually insecure men I am treated to this bullshit. To how my entire life has been spent dealing with male sexual insecurity, their need to dominate, to have power over me. Men who want emotional wives on the internet, men who want to stare, men who want to touch, men who want to treat me like I'm an object, to use me, to abuse me, to have a mommy. Weak ass motherfucking men who aren't worth a hair on my head. The good men I've known, far and few in between.
On Monday I am speaking to Mr. Smiley about this. He'll either apologise, deny, or be a di*k, but I am letting him know if another word like that comes out of his mouth I'm reporting him. Once again I have to educate. Once again I have to assume the burden. Once again an asshole abuser sails through his life, his weekend, no doubt, beautifully fine, while I sit here typing up this shit, quite alone in my fight against the world.
I've met too many fuckboys to count. I gave up long ago on meeting a good one. I've found them all and tracked them down including in the spirit world. I'm tired of y'all's shit.
Women, raise your men to respect women. Men, raise your men to respect women.
And treat me like I'm worthy of some respect, but shit, I know that's too much to ask for in this fucked up cruel cold capitalistic society. And if you can't, you will find the consequences quite shockingly in your face. I will continue to respect me, however. In spades.
Can't wait for Monday. 'Cause I'm fucking over this BULLSHIT.
PS, Mr. Smiley? Sorry about the small di*k problem.
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The first time I attempted to get this entry started, I got maybe two words typed out before my very demanding cat jumped up onto the desk, spilling my pencil holder of its contents as well as knocking my (thankfully covered) water bottle as well as other empty soda cans and nail polish bottles over. I'm telling you - when this boy wants his love and affection, he stops at absolutely nothing and often resorts to destruction!
So - here is attempt number two, now that I've banished him to the other side of my bedroom door with, "my Christmas tree BETTER still be standing in the morning, Mister!" I then locked the door so he couldn't let himself in, (believe it or not, the little shit KNOWS how to open handled doors! He taught himself and has NO regard for privacy!) and am now sitting down to write.
I had my second session with the Support Group Leader on Friday. I will from now on refer to her as M, it's easier.
Anyway - we really didn't have time to 'go over' my assignment from our last session (the one where she wanted me to share where I thought I'd be in three years) because I walked in prepared to discuss instead what I wrote about in my LAST blog entry - my recent struggles with J's re-entrance into therapy, of her starting EMDR, of being distant, overworked and overstressed, and of the rekindling of her social life. It's what's been on my mind the most nowadays, and it felt fitting to discuss this in place of whatever the hell I might be doing in three years.
Previously, we briefly got around to talking about the company J keeps - particularly her boss/friend. I've always been honest with J and told her that there's SOMETHING I can't quite put my finger on, SOMETHING about her that I don't like. I've said it until I was blue in the face. It is NOT a romantic attraction I'm fearful of. No. I trust J in every aspect, and I know that if there was any chance that she didn't want to be with me - she wouldn't be. I have tried several times to explain to her that it is simply the fact that while she and I are actively disconnecting, I am witnessing her becoming close to someone else. Although it's not on the same level, it still makes me feel (perhaps unnecessarily) threatened. And although J has always invited me into the fold and tried to include me, I've always felt reluctant and as if I didn't want to be around her boss/friend, because of these irrational thoughts.
Anyway - J's sisters dropped in on Thanksgiving night. During the day on Friday, I was dealing with our cable mishap, so I was unable to join them for the trip to the nail salon (I swear, when it comes to mani-pedis, I'm probably the man in the relationship - I could care less what my nails look like as they're usually cut short for bowling purposes, and GOD HELP anyone who touches my FEET!) or for the breakfast they went and ate after that.
Being as we live four hours apart, J doesn't spend a whole lot of time with her sister. So, whenever her sister comes for a visit, I am perfectly fine keeping a distance and allowing them the time and space to visit and reconnect. Whenever J goes out with her sister (a heavy drinker) there is ALWAYS music and booze involved. I am generally uncomfortable being around people who share this overtly loud and obnoxious, outgoing personality. And that Friday night after Thanksgiving, the three sisters wanted to go to a bar for a few drinks after supper and said that I should join them. I struggled with the invitation, but then I agreed to join them just for the food, but bowed out of the after-dinner bar plans.
Admittedly, there is currently more revolving around my not wanting to be around J's one sister either - it has a LOT to do with what happened prior to J's radiation treatment this past summer. I am feeling that is not quite resolved - her sister had said she'd like to communicate once per week, she'd like to get to know me better, things like that. She hasn't made a single effort to communicate with me - AT ALL. And I'm all about reciprocation - I've done nothing, too. I am stubborn, yes, but I also don't feel this is mine to fix. SHE is the one who acted poorly. If I said things that weren't necessarily nice or polite, it was because I was defending myself.
Anyway, I remained civil and friendly - I politely declined the second invitation to go boozing afterwards. Instead, I went straight home after the restaurant, thinking to myself, how long would it even take to get a couple drinks in? A couple hours, maybe?
They didn't get home until One. Oh. Clock. In the morning. 1:00. 1am. An hour after midnight.
What the fuck?
Still, I figured, these are not family members J sees very often - she did move four hours away from her family so that she could share her life with me - so, that thought in mind, I remained calm when she came into the bedroom at 1am. She admitted to having a little too much to drink and that after the bar, the one outgoing sister had insisted on driving out to ANOTHER bar where there was karaoke.
"I'm so glad I went," I was being sarcastic. But still asked how karaoke went. I still showed an interest, even though I wished she'd been home sooner - I felt as if I hadn't had any time with her that week, at all. She'd worked a double on Thanksgiving, then Friday the sisters were there, etc, and as it unfolded, I couldn't be with them during the first half of that day because I was waiting for the cable techie. She'd managed to get the day off work on Friday and Saturday, but still - with the added company, I wasn't feeling anything other than lonely at the moment.
Anyway, she told me that the karaoke place was pretty crowded and that her sister got up there and sang and danced, she commented on how this same sister makes 'friends' wherever she goes. She talked about how they had several drinks together and that the other sister (whom I truly DO like) was the one who had driven them all home, having only had one or two drinks all night. And she waited until the VERY end to mention:
"Oh and (boss/friend's name) met us at karaoke."
See, I was fine until that mention. I was. I don't even think it was the fact that J was pouring alcohol into her body when she normally doesn't. It was, though, the fact that she'd NOT told me that boss/friend would be there because she knew how I'd react. She'd omitted that detail entirely, which felt like a betrayal, although a small one. When asked why she didn't think to tell me this, she confirmed it. "Because every time you hear her name, you lose your shit!"
And yes, that's true. I don't even know that it's jealousy - perhaps some of it is. But at this point, I'd ALREADY explained that I was feeling disconnected from the one person I trust the most. And that I didn't like this other friend's sudden and frequent presence. Yet, J is not willing to change her friendship with boss/friend based upon these feelings I'm having, nor is she willing to slow down anything she's doing. And, so, it's me who has to change. And how the fuck I'm going to do that, remains a mystery.
We bickered about this on that night, making it a very emotional and late one. I didn't sleep a wink. She had a fair amount of alcohol in her system so that did enable her to get some sleep eventually. But I was just unable to allow sleep to take over, there were simply TOO many thoughts swimming around in my head. I still remained in bed, my heart raced all night long and I recognized familiar signs of anxiety that I hadn't seen in years. This bothered me. SO much.
It hit me that THIS was our first REAL argument in the decade we'd been together. See, up until now, we've ALWAYS been on the same page with pretty much everything. Yes, we've disagreed but it's NEVER felt like this before. Since that night, we've talked many times about this particular 'fight' and for the time being, we've reached an understanding. She will continue to work on herself in therapy while also enjoying her social outings after work once per week, and she will continue to maintain her friendship that she has become fond of. At the same time, she will work on being more present at home. She would like for ME to work on myself, too, and for me to continue sessions with M. She wants for me to branch out and be able to make connections with people other than her. "It's healthy," she says. I told her that was something I needed to work being able to accept - because it was so deeply ingrained into me by my ex-husband that one simply does not form close connections to another person outside of a relationship. You can have friends, but there's a line there - a boundary. Only HIS idea of healthy boundaries and HER idea are two entirely different things.
Although she tries to remind me that I've been with HER longer than I have been with him, I can't help but be stuck on the simple fact that it only takes a split second to change someone's 'sight,' whether it's during one isolated moment in time that can be considered a trauma or something someone else has said to you that seemingly becomes tattooed onto your brain. In the case of my ex-husband, this is what's happened - even though I TRY not to adapt to his way of thinking, I sometimes can't help when it's something that automatically kicks in!
She mentioned that she'd also like for me to get to know boss/friend and to perhaps become friendly with her. Now, this is tricky considering that right now, this woman is EVERYWHERE and it's more unsettling than not. But I did promise to try, if this is what would make her happy. We have decided that J is going to engage boss/friend into perhaps going bowling or going to ball games, or into doing anything in a setting that I can actually FOLLOW and maybe ENJOY. I have made it clear that I don't want anything to do with bars, with karaoke, with anything music-related and I refuse to be in a setting where people are just acting overall reckless.
This recent fight is also something she asked me to present to M, so on Friday's appointment, I went in fully prepared to do so. I know I could have posted it here beforehand, but it didn't feel right. Plus, I am generally slow to process what is happening, even those things right in front of me. I suppose this is a place where I can gain some unbiased feedback, same as with M in session, so I am okay doing it now that I've openly discussed it with M.
Plus, there WAS a moment in counseling that set off that little light bulb in the back of my head that has been dormant long enough for me to question whether it needed changing or that I'd be subject to being in the dark for the rest of my life. So, these words are all the more important to write.
I did previously explain J's rising social status to M, but our last (also our first) meeting was before the argument on the day after Thanksgiving. By now, things had escalated, and I needed the time and space to address it. So we talked and, somehow - (it's weird how this happens!) - something clicked. We talked about how I didn't understand WHY I didn't like boss/friend. She isn't a bad person, the few times I have seen her, she was actually fun to be around. Yet, there was something else there. Something that, when I backtracked a bit from not liking the bar/drinking/music setting.
Let's return, for a minute, back to October 4th, 1996. Some of you know this date already. It's forever etched into memory for me, as it's the night I was raped.
For starters - I was not at all used to parties, or even attending one that didn't involve balloons, clowns or goodie-bags. Or a Sweet Sixteen from the previous year - I'd attended three or four for high school friends. Other than that, I wasn't a partier, and this was okay with me. Being hearing impaired usually excluded me from many invitations, but I wasn't normally one to take offense to it. It is what it is.
One of the 'first' friends I made when I started college a month before the incident, was a very outgoing type of person. I'm not sure what exactly made us friends, since I didn't have this in common with her at all - but at the time, I had no reason to fear being social, either.
She was the one who invited me to this party that she heard about. She convinced me to lie to my father and tell him that I was going to be spending the night at her house, following the completion of a school project that would likely take HOURS. Lord Capulet, being the trusting man he was, agreed and said, 'have a good time, just be careful!'
When we arrived, she almost immediately met up with some kids that she had gone to high school with. And so, it quickly became a case of, 'see ya later, Cap!' and I was left alone. Alone, surrounded by loud music and the combined smell of alcohol and weed. It was thick, and it didn't take me very long to want to go home. When I went in search of my friend, I found her nearly topless - her shirt was opened, she was laughing it up with a bunch of surrounding horny frat guys and it was clear to me that she was heavily intoxicated. I approached her and told her that if she'd give me the keys (we arrived in her car) then I'd drive us home. She guffawed in my face (what the holy hell had she been drinking!?) and told me that she was having too much fun and wasn't ready to leave.
I don't need to get into details here as I've likely already set the stage for what happened next, but the short version of it - in attempts to leave on my own, I was raped by an older partygoer in one of the bedrooms when he'd lured me inside under the pretense that he would be making a phone call for me. I ended up walking out of the party pretty much unnoticed, as everyone around me was drunk, passed out, stoned or otherwise oblivious. BECAUSE of the booze, BECAUSE of the music. BECAUSE of this very setting.
So - I explained all of this to M. For her, it made sense right away - that, for the past 22 years, I have been unwittingly connecting the bar setting with the party setting - that whenever someone were to ask me to go have a drink, my automatic answer, without thinking about it, is 'hell, NO.' It doesn't matter who I'll be with, even if it's J. Even if it's someone whom I KNOW would not leave me flat. I don't mind the occasional drink of alcohol - I even have a favorite! (And if you've actually read this far, you're welcome to inquire on what it is in the comments!) I just prefer to drink at home - on MY turf, either alone with J or with my family members. Imbibing is not something I do frequently, as I also deal with that pestering guilt of ENJOYING something that indirectly caused my trauma 22 years ago. I was not intoxicated at the time - I was sober. But the person I was with was drunk (and I don't even know WHERE she was when I left!) and I'm uncertain of what my attacker had in his system, as when he approached me, he did NOT have a drink or a joint in his hand. Regardless, I automatically find myself arriving at the same place each and every time I recall this moment in my life. She was drunk. Had she not been drunk, this would NOT have happened!
I didn't realize even THIS until Friday, either - but the loud, obnoxious personalities of both J's sister, as well as her boss/friend, both remind me of this particular 'friend,' (I use that term very lightly, we are not friends today) who has now made it impossible for me to look at anyone who ENJOYS heavy drinking, loud music, reckless, STUPID behavior and the bar/weed setting, etc, with anything other than loathing and disgust. I honestly don't think it's the actual person I've grown to hate - because both J's sister and the boss/friend are (if I can remove their love of the things I hate) decent people. If they were not, J wouldn't even like them at all nor would she associate with the boss/friend. I know family is family and that is a connection that is not going to change but it is true for any of her friends.
I just cannot connect with these types, especially if they are not willing to try and connect with ME, either. And the way to do that, really isn't rocket science. I need to feel that someone WANTS to get to know me, someone truly is interested in learning about the person I am. I'm not getting that vibe from neither one of them.
I think that what it boils down to is - this is the TYPE of person that I can't bring myself to trust, the person who would choose alcohol or drugs over my well-being and peace of mind. And not only do I not trust them, I don't find myself being able to ALLOW new people the opportunity to prove themselves trustworthy. I simply don't leave my comfort zone long enough to do this. I'm still, after 22 years, (or even longer!) living in fear of social settings, and not necessarily ONLY the ones where alcohol and loud music is included. It has been said that I am 'different' whenever I am in a group of people. I am quiet. I focus on whatever it is we're doing (whether it's a board game or a meal) and do not engage in conversation, I laugh whenever everyone else laughs so I don't look completely oblivious, and I often pray no one has asked me a question that I just responded to with a laugh.
So perhaps, that's it. This was the moment when the bulb went off in session. Maybe this is why this woman's friendship with J is so bothersome to me - I wonder if I am also, deep down, fearing that this will eventually become something J enjoys, too. SHE likes music, she likes drinking with friends. She isn't into karaoke but she's in the process of evolving. What if this is something that happens later? (Not the karaoke specifically but rather, the more extroverted lifestyle?) What if this a change that is yet to happen but is in the making?
This is NEVER going to be something I'm entirely okay with, no matter how much work I do on it. It's not going to erase the injustice done to me by that other 'friend.' I don't know how to fix this, either. My speed is just different. I am not opposed to having friends or making connections with people but I personally prefer 1:1 meetings for meals, coffee, shopping, something like that. I like the heart-to-heart talks - they are what strengthens a friendship. I don't mind taking in a drink or two with J and perhaps one other person, but I HAVE to be within a setting that doesn't catapult these fears to the surface. There IS one person, though, that I bowl with who is also a fan of the mixed drink. She is, though, first a bowling friend than anything else and HAS truly made the effort to know both J and I on other levels and is becoming someone I can indeed consider developing a friendship with that is both based on trust and mutual fondness. So, I guess this is progress.
I did remind J last night that I needed for us to stay close to each other through this...whatever it is we're going through. No matter how irrational I've seemed lately, no matter how much of an asshole I appear to be at times when I feel threatened or otherwise rejected. I joked that maybe one morning I would wake up to a world where EVERYTHING made sense. That got a smile out of her, at least. I suppose it WAS a funny thought to entertain, even for just a moment.
I'm just terrified of this type of adjustment I'm having to make, not to mention, sick and tired of being hurt, abandoned or otherwise expendable because I can't change these things about myself too easily. I'm not sure if this means there's more from what happened 22 years ago that I've got to work on - maybe it does. I've had some therapy, but maybe not enough. Maybe this is the point in time when that unfinished business has become more evident and has chosen to show up - and not politely, either - the expression 'bull in a china shop' comes to mind when I try to picture the state of my brain at the moment!
The issue of abandonment is also becoming more prominent following my birthday celebration last month. (Not sure if this is even worth to mention - but J's sister did not attend my surprise 40th nor did she even care to follow up on it. She was supposed to come, but claimed that her hand was hurting following an injury - yet if the party were for J, a little hand pain would certainly have been a non-issue and she'd have been the first one to arrive. And J had also invited boss/friend to this party, too - SHE didn't come either, apparently something came up for her, too.) And then we add to that, the staggering number of long-time friends I also had not show up or follow up either - it just all succeeded at making these thoughts even more confusing and bothersome and my heart genuinely HURTS right now over ALL of it.
That's it for today, I suppose. It's taken two days to get all of this written out - and yes, this is unusual for me, too. I'm normally able to hammer out one of these blog entries in a matter of a few hours, but this has taken me DAYS. Even now I'm reading and re-reading and my finger is hovering over the 'DELETE' button...I'm unsure of how much I even like myself and how I am right now, so how can I expect too many others to? The more I think about it, the more I am tempted to just click out of the tab because some of it probably seems so SILLY - but these are authentic concerns of mine and regardless of how they come across, they're things that NEED to be said. So it's time, I guess, to hit 'SEND' and be done with it.
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To my friends, who are coming to terms with traumatic events:
life is cruel. It takes us and it beats us and it breaks us. We carry this pain with us because we are too afraid to process reality. We cannot process reality. How do we deal with what has happened to us? Such different events have broken us in ways we cannot even begin to understand ourselves. And how can we even begin to express what we cannot put into words?
But I understand. And you understand. We cannot fathom what the other has been through. But the process of recovery, this my friend, I can relate too. I am further along then you- I know the road and I will be here when you fall, if only you let me. Do not be ashamed or afraid to ask for help. I have no judgement. I cannot judge, for I have been there too.
I have nothing but the deepest love for you. If I could take this burden away from you I would do it a thousand times over. I would do anything for you to be healthy and happy and free of this suffering.
I cannot take away your pain, but let me help carry your load.
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This weekend hubby is in town so we are working on me being present during relations and most of the weekend it has been pleasurable for both of us but this afternoon as I tried to be held, all I could hear was his TW.......instructions how to please him with my mouth and my heart broke, am so defeated, working so hard and his voice is still there reminding me, I will always be his, he owns a deep part of me, my first kiss, my first touch, my first time and no matter what i do that will never be mine, he took that and it is his . The only way I can see this changing, finding peace from this is not being here anymore, not being here to foolishly believe my mind, my body is not his after 19 years of being abused. I do not know how to accept he owns those sacred parts of me, i do not know how to get through this anymore, how can i be a loving wife, when a part of me will always be his. teleah
I'm tired of feeling like I don't have any control for what happens to my body. I feel so helpless when things happen to me and I feel too weak to be able to stop anything from happening.
I begged for help and no one did anything to stop him. They just turned away and pretended as if nothing was happening. We were on a bus, its not like they were just passing by and pretended not to hear me, they could see me in pain and uncomfortable. Maybe if I was a little bit louder someone would have helped. He followed me on my way home and all I can think about is that he knows where I live. He knows what I look like and that I'm weak and where I live and I don't know if I will feel safe again going on the bus by myself. At least I know he won't be able to get into the building without a key. At least that fact can help me feel a little more safe.
I'm tired of this happening to me. I'm tired of feeling helpless.
So I have not been here in several weeks and I can feel the need to vent so I make no promises as to how sane I will sound but I have no where else to turn.
Mhmm well I guess I start with the 24th of last month, my mom had surgery on both knees. It was a quick out patient surgery, I knew she would need help with recovery so trying to be a good daughter of course I said I would be there to help her through it all. So for the past several weeks I have been driving the 30 min to her house to be there before she gets up and then staying until 11 o'clock at night, only to pack up my young child and drive the half an hour back home to hopefully get some sleep. I'm sooooo tired! But even more then the physical exhaustion my mind feels like its on a roller coaster and I can't get off. I sit here and get all wound up over things that have happened in the past and can't be changed. Like why am I taking care of her? I know to some that may sound cruel, she's my mother she gave me life and here I am complaining about making sure she gets through recovery. And yet I can't help but feel like once again I'm just the doormat that everyone uses. She never took care of me, she never made me comfortable or made sure I had everything I needed. She'd just always brush me off and tell me to get away because I might get her sick. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.
The past two days I haven't gone to help her. She's up on her own now anyways but the real reason is because I started to get this feeling in the pit of my stomach. The one right before I do something I know I'm going to regret. I had built up the courage to tell my mom some of the things I was feeling and before I could really say anything she did what she always does and started crying. And somehow the blame always comes back to me, somehow it's always my fault. So like usual I wanted a drink and I had one but instead of just having the one and letting that be that I got my phone and was about to get a fix. I have been drug free for 4 years, but 3 weeks with my mom and I was about to throw it all away. I'd be lying if I said I feel better and I haven't thought about doing it since, but truth is I've thought about how much better I would feel even if it was for a moment, to just let go and forget for an hour.
But instead here I am telling you all my truth for tonight. So please send me good vibes as I keep fighting this war with myself.
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I haven’t posted in a while and tonight I feel like I have no where else or any one else to turn to so I’m here I started cutting again and started to hate my self more and more every day every minute every second I’m terrified and scared and I hate myself and I want to kill myself and I just want to die I just want to it all to end I hate it I can’t sleep I’m scared I’m paranoid I’m not even sure how to end this but maybe with a question...
what if you were asked” where are you gonna go live with a rapist or with your brother so he can rape you too” by your significant other what would you do?
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I don't know if anyone actually read my blog entries. But I have returned for the first time in a year or two.... what has my life been like.... well the super amazing guy I would write about ended up being abusive and the relationship ended thankfully. But after him, I was SA again. Not by my ex but by a guy who I thought was a good guy. We got a little too drunk (at least I did) and he did not listen to the word no. This was a week after I started college. Luckily this guy did not go to my college but... it was a bad way to start off the school year. After that incident I would drink Friday and Saturday nights in order to forget the incident and to be free from my mind....that plan was a bad one... I ended up stopping that habit two months after because I learned it was unhealthy. Luckily I do not have as bad as flashbacks anymore and I'm learning day by day how to deal with it. I also learned what was causing my seasonal depression. A very low vitamin D deficiency. This is a year, after I was raped I now am suffering more from dealing with the guilt of the assault and with depression on top of school work.
I have been feeling so alone, no one else in my life understands what am I going through, I am scared to tell my therapist. I just feel alone......just me against my own thoughts trying to battle them by myself and I normally do an amazing job at battling the feelings but there are times when I just feel alone, like I'm drowning and there are too many thoughts happening at once that I slowly sink lower and lower till it all the way at the bottom with no way to get up. and I have to try and swim myself back up but its a struggle. I don't know if I'm going to make this blog a regular thing or not.
But if anyone feels the same way, leave a comment or message me and let me know how you cope with depression feelings and if you ever feel alone.
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When I sleep with a man, I close my eyes. I do everything I can to make it be over if it starts taking him too long. I do this even when its my decision and I came on to him; but it always feels wrong. The sweating grosses me out, the body hair, the awkward humping like he thinks he's rocking your world when all he's really doing is drying my out and causing awful friction. When I close my eyes, I don't have to see him anymore, and it separates me from the situation. I wondered when I started doing that; coming onto guys and then waiting for it to end.
When I was 16, my first boyfriend Parker took my virginity. Like most embarrassed teenage girls I couldn't look then, either. Then I got comfortable, and eventually I was confident enough to look, to take control, to fuck him back. It was all we ever did when we were together, which the horny teenager in me didn't mind a bit. But then weeks passed, and months. We were still only fucking. Not just once, but at least two times every day. I would go see him every day, pick him up, bring him home with me. Let him fuck me as much as he wanted, and then take him home again. It became routine, to let him have what he wanted even if I didn't feel like it. If I said no, he would keep asking. So I let him. When I couldn't stand him anymore, I ended it.
He was the first boy I ever slept with, and he used me like a sex doll. And I let him. I gave him what he wanted, because isn't that easier than fighting it?
I think that really created the foundation for other men to take advantage of me. Never by force, but coercion. If they tried enough, I would let them. If I knew that was what they wanted from me, I gave it to them. Again, and again, and again. Sometimes, it was drugs that convinced me. Or alcohol. Or both. They would get me fucked up and then I was even easier to convince. Friend gets me molly, and suddenly a little touching isn't as big of a deal. We're tripping on shrooms together, and the harmless back massage travels to my ass, and I allow it. Give me some painkillers, and I'll take my best friend's virginity. More painkillers, I let you do anal. Some acid and coke, I let you spit in my mouth and call me a w**re. At the time, maybe it even felt good. Maybe I wanted to do it, too.
But I didn't want to, not really. I wanted the drugs, to feel better for just a while. I wanted the attention, because loneliness hurts almost as much. It was always him that wanted to. The dozens of hims that I barely remember or remember all too well; I knew what they wanted from me, what every guy always wanted from me, and I let them have it because it seemed like the only thing left of me to give. So I didn't fight, I just closed my eyes. In a way, so did they, because no one ever seemed to notice how much I was cutting myself back then.
After a while, I tried to get better. I'd stopped being as reckless, tried to find someone that didn't think of me as a nice piece of ass to destroy. Tried to take better care of myself, and tried to push back the memories of all the things I let other people do to me. And I was doing alright, for a short while. I had just started taking klonopin for my anxiety, and had no idea how strongly it would interact with something to drink. I was on a tinder date, and between the two of us we finished the bottle. He was handsome, and older, and I was trashed. I got on top of him, kissed him hard. When I started to take off my clothes, and he politely slowed it down, then left. Told me maybe next time.
Bet you we're expecting that; neither was I. I'd never had a guy turn down sex with me before. I was ripe for the taking, but he knew I was too drunk. He was the first respectful guy I'd ever come across.
But then, I invited over my friend, Max. We had also met on tinder, but I hooked up with him roommate a few times and had made it abundantly clear that I was only interested in being friends. It wasn't that he was a bad guy or anything, but for the love of Christ his teeth were so repulsive, the thought of kissing him made me gag.
So there we were, me already half blackout drunk, Max having his first drink while pouring me another. I told him all about how I'd just had the most wonderful date, and that we were going to see each other again soon. We chatted and drank and then I noticed how he was looking at me. How he was always looking at me. Then, I kissed HIM. There's a lot I don't remember about that night, parts that got left out because of the drugs. That, I do remember. I kissed him first. I still blame myself for that.
See, when you get drunk while also on a benzo like xanax or klonopin, you don't black out entirely. At least, I didn't. While I was drunk, I was there, experiencing everything. It was only the next day that parts were missing, blurred out like someone didn't erase them properly. There were also parts that, for the life of me, I couldn't stop remembering. Images were playing through my mind over and over. Me kissing him, me leading us to my room. Him pushing my head down to blow him, it chocking me. Then it was me, laying on my stomach with him behind me. I was too fucked up to do anything but lay there, too dizzy to move. I remember how much it hurt, how aggressively he forced himself into me over and over again. I remember him spanking me, and how humiliating it was. When the worst part happened, when he decided to take his too big c*ck and force it in my ass, I remember my face in the pillow, eyes clenched shut, almost screaming, my hand grabbing the blankets for dear life. I don't remember how it ended, or much of anything after that, except that I kept laying there, staring straight ahead, and tears hitting the pillow.
He slept over, and the next morning, I made excuses about having to be somewhere soon and that he needed to leave. I went back to bed, in shock, and just cried. All day, I cried. Then, I decided to fight. I fought with him, over text, furious that he'd taken advantage of me when I had been so drunk, fresh off a date, after I had been so clear that I never wanted anything like that from him. I told his roommate, my friend, but he wasn't on my side. Said Max told him we were both drunk, that I kissed him first, that I wanted it to happen, but regretted it. Person after person I told, no one was on my side. Except for my roommate; he had been in his room, and heard all of it. I still think about how it must have damaged him, being a witness to something he couldn't stop.
28 days from now it will be a full year since I attempted suicide.
I never make it to the one year mark; for three years I've come within a month or two but then relapse in the worst ways. It's like all the cuts I didn't make were building up until the pressure was so great that one touch of a blade to my skin left a devastating wound.
The boy I had been on a date with that night stayed with me through the entire winter. I don't know if I could have made it without him. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened, but it was the worst time.
I rearranged my room, made everything look different. I will never put my bed back in the spot by the window, because that's where it happened. I could never lay in that bed there again, knowing that's where my face had been buried in the pillow. For a while, everything was really difficult. Then I buried it deep and soldiered on, because there are always so many other things to worry about. After a while, and after being cut off by that group of friends, I moved on with my life.
Then I started a new job, and he was there. He asked the boss to never schedule us on the same nights, because he couldn't stand to be around me, because I made HIM uncomfortable. He played the victim, telling all his friends I went crazy after coming on to him and all sorts of lies. He had his life, his friends, and I had panic attacks in the bathroom. My skin crawled when I saw him. People would say his name in conversation and I thought I was going to be sick. I couldn't keep working like that, and I couldn't quit the job, so I told someone. A manager asked what was wrong, so I told him. Nothing happened. I told the girls I worked with, and turned out, I wasn't the only one. Not one, but TWO other girls had been his friend, partied together, gotten way too shit faced, and woke up next to Max. Apparently, that was just "what he does". He targets women that can't say no. One of the other girls talked to a different manager with me, and still, nothing happened. Every feeling from that night came back into my life and I kept remembering my face in the pillow, the pain. No one did a thing to help me, no matter how many times I asked.
I eventually was fired from that job after having a panic attack that sent me home during a busy shift. Fired because I was raped, and no one would help me.
I think about how many other girls hes done this to, how many more there are to come. I want to report it, I want to put him away so he can't hurt anyone ever again. There are THREE that I know of, but even if they did come forward with me, who would believe us. Girls getting too drunk, having sex, regretting it. How do you call it rape if you didn't say no, if you didn't fight him off? My name, all of our names, would get dragged through the dirt. They would call us slutty, reckless, paint a picture of drug addicts and mental cases until no one took us seriously. And all that, for my family to witness?
There is no justice for people like me, like the other girls. We elect rapists into our Supreme Court and then are asked why it is we didn't come forward sooner, say something when it happened.
And besides, I kissed him first, remember? I kissed him first because since I was 16 years old, the world taught me to just give men what they wanted from me, that it was easier that way. How do you explain that to a court? To your friends? Your family?
The most ironic part is, I'm gay. And when I'm with a girl, I keep my eyes wide open, and I never want it to end.
You taught me so much I wish I hadn't learned.
You taught me that caring is weakness, that trust will be betrayed, that vulnerability will be preyed upon.
You taught me to hide, to guard, to pretend instead of letting people see, instead of sharing how I feel.
You taught me to doubt, you taught me to be wary, cautious, and mistrusting.
You taught me that good things can't last, that people will let you down, will choose their own comfort over others safety.
You taught me that love is a liability. A contest, a battle with winners and losers, a costume, an illusion to use for your own gain and then toss away.
You taught me to hate myself, to never see the good and to focus on my faults.
I'm unlearning all of these lessons.
One by one.
I'm learning to replace them with my own experiences - to give people the chance, to give myself more chances, to prove you wrong.
Your lessons are not true. Your teachings are false. And you don't have the power to make me believe any more lies.
I don't understand why people keep living. I don't get it. I don't know why they do things or why they enjoy things. I enjoy nothing. I'll have a brief moment of respite only for it to come back again. Just this horrible feeling like my insides are rotting away and I'm slowly dying. Life isn't worth living like this but I'm too afraid to kill myself. I wish I could. I feel like i would be better off. Life is just too hard. I don't really believe that things get better. I think they can but life's problems and difficulties never really go away. Especially for people who don't have money it's even harder. And i don't think this pain inside over what's been done to me and how the world is and how screwed up people are it'll never truly go away. I'm having to carry a burden that feels to heavy to bear. And i have no one to really talk to about this. Even on here I still feel alone and isolated. People respond to my post and then that's it. Im back to being alone again. It's all just pointless.
And i don't trust anyone. I've seen what passes as normal these days I honestly want nothing to do with anyone. And people are just so hateful and there are so many double standards and so much hypocrisy. I feel exhausted by it all. And my brain never stops I just obsess and over analyze everything, it never stops. I'm sick of it.
I want to die.
I am so very excited that I found out that you can post blogs on this website! I have wanted to start a blog for quite a while but I never knew the right place to start or where to post it. I wanted to start this as a way to help people when they are too afraid or ashamed to reach out. For some people, healing doesn't come by telling your story, but by reading the stories of those that came before you and survived the pain you think will never end. I'm hoping that by sharing my life in all it's craziness, that it can help someone see the light again.
So let me start by telling you a bit about myself. My name is Alexis and I live in the USA. I was born and raised in the same state that I currently live in. I love to make music, sing, and read. I also enjoy Netflix and french fries. I have two sisters - one older and one younger. I have a beautiful niece and a cute little doggo. In school, I was into theater and art (although, I'm really not that talented when it comes to art - I just think it's fun!). I love to bake cakes and cupcakes and I watch a lot of Food Network baking shows. I currently work full time as a Personal Banking Representative at a financial institution that I've worked at for almost 3 years.
Now for the more serious stuff.. I was raped by a stranger who may have drugged me. I am not going to go into detail at this time, but I may do that in a later blog entry. I struggled for a long time with self-blame and wondering what I did wrong. I have spent lots of time in therapy and worked through a lot and I feel like I am on a good road to recovery. I still have good and bad days, but I am prepared to open my heart and share that with all of you. This has already been such a long, hard road and I know that I still have a long way to go on my road to healing, but I am doing my best and learning so much along the way.
I would also like everyone to know that my inbox is ALWAYS open for everyone. Please do not hesitate to reach out if you have questions or need support or just want a friend. I hope in the near future, that I can shed some light to your lives and bring you some joy.
Thank you for reading and I look forward to taking you with me on this journey we call life.
Take care, friends.
It has been some time since my last blog entry. My therapist noticed somehow in the last few months, after 18 years of therapy with him, I was somehow getting better. That I had told him more about my grandfather's sexual abuse as a child in the last few months then I had in the entire 18 years he had known me. He took no credit, my psychiatrist took no credit. I think It all boils down to activity in this site. I have opened up for the first time. And though it's just typing, I know there are warm people actually reading it. I started a dream journal, and a journal to talk to my alters. The effect of which was me meeting my alters in dreams often, having so many dreams of importance. I recognized they were of some importance, but it wasn't until I brought it to my therapist, who until this point really had no interest in dreams, that he was able to just immediately, BAM, make total sense of them. They then happened more often and more and more was coming out of my subconscious.
While my psychiatrist kept insistent caution I could cause more damage than good, my therapist was ecstatic. Kind of pointing things out which made me come to realize that we had to wait these 18 years not for me to be ready, but for the alter that dealt with all the trauma to decide it was time bring some of the memories of the abuse to my consciousness. She was the one bringing those dreams and memories forward. It was her that decided it was time to start healing. She was finally ready.
I had an odd dream, the last that I can recall. As my drs, and psychiatrist leaving, mother( who I am the primary caregiver for) is dying of cancer, and now my dad has inoperable kidney cancer, has caused me to go back on the high dose of my meds, essentially cutting off my dreams. The dream was 2 men came to the alter(Anna) that deals with trauma and took her away to fulfill some destiny. She was to become death to either some future or some past event. Myself and some other of the alters fought to keep her but we were no match to what took her. It felt like she was borrowed. The idea that she was coming back one day was there, but I have had no significant dreams since that dream. I hope this isn't the end. I need her around to control the flood gates. Without her, nothing new gets to me.
I grew up with my mom. She grew up in a family that never showed emotion, never hugged, and she raised us that way. Since her diagnosis, I decided we are NOT going out that way and a minimum of one hug per day. She is finally opening up. I was not the only sexually abused child. Apparently, it runs in the family. In fact it seems to have run rampant in my family. It's sad. I'm sorry she had to endure this as well. apparently, my brother too, who I always had issues with was caught abusing a cousin, which makes me wonder about the mass of missing memories when I was young with him.
I don't know if I should put therapy off until moms passed on, but I don't see me able to deal then, and then my therapist will retire and I will have lost every single piece of my support system. I had read somewhere to live life because there will always be some crisis going on... life sure has been that way my whole life.
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I am a survivor of sexual violence and this is my story!
I was born and raised in beautiful British Columbia, Canada. I am a product of divorce and I have one brother, a half sister and a step brother. I was a happy child until I was 7 years old......
When I was 7 years old my great uncle started following me into my grandmas basement where I would play on her computer. He would sit beside me with his hands down my pants pretending to help me play games.. He would never say anything while he molested me... Not a word it just happened..or maybe he did talk to me and I just blocked it all out.... When he would hear someone coming down the stairs he would pull his hands out of my pants and tell me he would be right back... I hated being down there with him and after a while I gained the courage to stay upstairs when visiting my Grandma so the molestation would stop. When my Grandma asked why I didn't want to go down stairs anymore I told her that Uncle was creepy. She told me that he was mentally challenged and that he would never do anything to hurt me. Boy was she wrong!!! Turns out my great uncle molested my mother when she was younger as well. After the abuse he started asking me for hugs I never wanted to touch him, but my Grandma would insist and I did not want to disappoint her.
When I was 10 years old my Uncles girlfriend who was 19 years old at the time use to babysit me and my brothers. She was such a cool person until she started making us watch porn and look at dirty magazines. It was the weirdest porn too! She would google Simpsons porn and Disney porn thinking that since we were kids we would like it better. At first I thought to myself "right on she is so cool letting us watch this sort of thing!" But eventually it started to make me feel very uncomfortable. Thank goodness my older step brother told my dad and we were never allowed over there again. It was such a relief!!
At the age of 12 I had a crush on my step brothers best friend. I wanted him to like me so bad, but one day when he slept over he snuch into my room and he sexually violated me when I was sleeping. He started rubbing my vagina and fondling my chest. It woke me up, but I froze and pretended to sleep. I am so ashamed that I never stopped it. I was scared that if I woke up he would get into trouble and he would not be allowed to hang out with my brother. The same thing happened to me by my neighbor a few months after when I was at sleepover party. He tried to put his hands down my pants when I was sleeping, but this time I woke up and was able to stop him. Now that I look back at the situation I consider it a small victory and a glimpse of what ever self respect I had left at the time.
By 13 I trusted no one in my life because everyone close to me either betrayed me by letting people molest me after I told them what happened or they tried to exploit and abuse me themselves.
When I would visit my dad on weekends my stepmother would continuously tell me that I dressed too provocatively, I looked like a sl*t, I was going to be promiscuous and become just like my mother. All the negative comments took a toll on my self esteem, I became depressed and started to act just like my mother.
Let me tell you a little about my mother: She was the product of incest. Her mother and her father where cousins. She was molested as a child and she was criticized everyday at school for being inbred. One night to numb her pain she got so wasted that she blacked out and ended up cheating on my father. They divorced when I was 5 years old. The divorce was the straw that broke my mothers back. She began to drink like a fish, do drugs heavily and sleep with anyone who would give her the time of day. There was always creepy men in our house. One day my mom met a man who beat her to a pulp and then raped her while her children were in the house. She charged him and he went to jail. He was sentenced to 2 years in jail. I remember the day she was assaulted and I remember the day the police called her to let us know he was back on the streets. I never felt safe anywhere after he was released.
After her assault and rape she met a man online. She took us to Vancouver Island where I was forced to babysit 5 kids at the age of 12 in a strange house and place that I knew nothing about. That night they went to the bar and the house I was babysitting in was robbed. To protect the children in the house I hid us all in a room upstairs locked the door and turned off the lights. After about an hour of rummaging through the house the robbers left. When my mom and the man got back she was so drunk that she could barely stand. The man took her upstairs and I could hear them having sex.
When I turned 13 years old I met this a girl my age on a trip to see family. She introduced me to two 19 year old boys. While they where at the place I was staying one of the boys stole $300 from my suitcase with out me knowing. They ended up using my money to buy drugs and alcohol. I wanted to numb the pain I felt inside so I decided to get drunk! We hitched hike to an old school bus that the boys converted into a house. While we were there I was almost raped by one of the 19 year olds, but luckily I was spared and he only put his hands down my pants. My friend wasn't as lucky and the other boy raped her in front of us. In the morning the boys kicked us out of the bus and made us hitch hike home alone and hungover. When we arrived back to the place I was staying at I discovered that all my hard earned money was gone and I had to phone my mom to tell her I was robbed. I left everything else out knowing I was in the wrong and that it was my fault that this had happened to me.
I ended up losing my virginity at 14 years old to a 18 year old boy who pressured me into having sex with him. We had sex in my Grandmas house when she was at Bingo. He didn't tell me he had a girlfriend at the time. He lied to both of us by telling her I was his cousin and telling me she was his cousin. He took both our virginities that summer and I regret giving it to him because he didn't deserve it.
As soon as I turned 15 I started lying about my age telling boys that I was 17 years old so that I was allowed to consent to sex. I believed that lieing about my age some how made me feel better about myself. I honestly didn't know what normal behavior of a 15 year old girl was suppose to be. I just thought sex was normal and that's all I was good for. That's all anyone ever wanted from me.
I was desperately looking from love in all the wrong places. Thinking that if I found it I would feel whole again. When I moved in with my Grandmother at 15 I met a boy my age and we were together for 6 years. We were both young and raised by dysfunctional families. His mom was a crack dealer and her boyfriend was a very scary man. He once held a lady hostage with a shot gun in the basement while we where in the house. Eventually the Emergency Response Team caught wind and they raided the house, but instead of treating us like victims when they broke down the door they pointed guns in our face, tackled me to the ground and drug me through the snow with no shoes on. At the time I was only 16 years old. I didn't even know what was going on in the house. From that moment on I couldn't trust the police to protect me. They treated me like I was the one holding that lady hostage when in reality I had no idea until after the fact. They kept me in a cell and refused to feed me or let me talk to anyone until I told them what happened in the basement.
When I was 19 years old we had a beautiful baby daughter. Her father told me to get an abortion and told me he never wanted to have kids. From that moment on the relationship was doomed as we were not ready for this much responsibility. The stress of having a child lead to our break up a year later. A week after the break up I decided to go to the bar to look for a rebound. Little did I know I was going to receive the rebound that could have ended my life. I was date raped by two men who drugged my drink. They took me from the bar and then brutally raped me in the middle of no where in a trailer on a mountain. One of the men strangled me until I would black out and hit me in the face while yelling at me to pee on him. I tired to, but couldn't. He threw me in a shower and started spraying me in the face with water. I tried to give him what he wanted so that he would stop hurting me, but I couldn't. He turned the water off, spit in my face and left the room. His friend entered the room after he left, pulled me out of the shower and raped me as well. When they were done with me I didn't know what to do, I was so traumatized. In a panic I decided to put my clothes back on and I walked over to the first guy, gave him a hug and told him "I had a great time." It was the hardest thing I ever had to say. But by doing that they decided to drove me into town where they left me to find my way home. It took me forever to find out where I lived. I never told anyone what happened to me. The next weekend I was out with friends and I saw the same two men who raped walk into the bar. I froze and the flashbacks started!
I felt lost, discouraged and I didn't know what to do with my life. I became so severely depressed from being raped and abused most of my life that I made the awful decision to sell my body. I felt as if this was the only way that I could support my daughter and my alcohol addiction while coping with the trauma. My self worth was at an all time low as I started meeting men online without anyone knowing. I figured that the sexual abuse in my life was never going to stop, so I decided I might as well give them what they wanted and make some money doing it! During this time I was introduced to MDMA and Cocaine. It numbed my pain and I formed a bad habit. I told myself I would never do drugs, but I also didn't think I would ever be molested as a child and raped as a woman. My life was spiraling down hill and no one knew... I was so good at pretending everything was okay. I had to be strong for my daughter and the people around me. Everyone thought my life was perfect, but it was far from!
While online I met many men who tried to coax me into pornography. They wanted to exploit me in any way they could. I kept refusing and promised myself that I would never go on film for my daughters sake. It was one of the best and hardest decisions that I ever made in my life. One of the men who tried to exploit me on film forced an object inside of my body when we were high on MDMA and I had to get it surgically removed. The man wouldn't even take me to the hospital after I begged him to. I had to call a so called friend to take me to the hospital to have it removed. My friend eventually raped me a few weeks after the incident when I was passed out in a hotel room during my friends birthday party. When I woke up the next morning I knew that I had sex and I asked him if it was with him. He said " Yes, I thought it was okay because we are friends"
at 23 I was recruited by a pimp to join a brothel located in Kelowna, BC where he made me and numerous other girls sell our bodies to anyone who entered into the building. I was raped 4 times while working there and watched other girls endure the same abuse. I was also beaten, robbed and mentally abused by the girls, clients and the man running the brothel.
By this point in my life I was completely broken and wanted to end my life. I considered suicide numerous times. I tried cutting myself and overdosing, but I just could not follow through with it. I had a daughter to live for! She meant everything to me and I wanted to break the cycle for her!
Luckily I did not kill my self because when I turned 24 years old I met the man of my dreams. We fell deeply in love and he promised that he would protect me from all the toxic people who ever hurt me in my life. He made every one go away! I was able to get out of prostitution immediately with his help, but with leaving came a price. I was being sexually harassed for wanting out. Men would send videos they took of without know and they would message my husband saying things like "how could you marry a good for nothing hooker" ,"I hope you know who she use to be" they would threaten my life and the lives of people I loved. One man hunted my Grandmas address down and told me that I owed him sex for money he gave me to help pay my bills and if I didn't give it to him he was going to her house to hurt her. The stalking lasted for quite awhile and I could't understand why thee men would not let me go!
6 months after meeting the man of my dreams we were married. He continues to protect me from the demons of my past and he has taught me how to love and respect myself. Recovery is a hard road because I feel that I don't deserve to be happy or treated with dignity and respect. My road to recovery comes with a lot of baggage and it strains our relationship from time to time, but I let him know everyday how much he means to me and that I don't ever want to ever lose him! We now have a beautiful baby daughter together and he is an amazing step father to my first daughter. He has now made me feel worthy of self love and respect and we continue to grow together.
I struggle everyday with the psychological, Physical and emotional effects my sexual trauma has caused. I still try to numb the pain with alcohol from time to time, but it makes my symptoms worse. Slowly I have quit drugs and now only smoke pot to help relieve my anxiety and depression. I have never talked to a professional nor have I ever shared my story because I am afraid to be judged and unloved. I feel that no one will believe what I have been through and they will think I brought this lifestyle on myself. For the record I did not choose to be raped, I did not choose be abused as a child and I did not I did not choose the consequences of this trauma and how it effected my ability to love myself . But I did choose to be a warrior! It is not an easy road, but it is sure in the hell better then the road I was on.
I hope to one day live a sober life, so that I can feel free from the pain of the past... Volunteering has made a big difference in my life and I have volunteered for Lyme disease, the womens shelter, cancer, the city parade, the womens coalition, Christmas food hamper, youth groups and many other not for profit organizations. Giving back to my community has made a huge impact in my recovery and I am so grateful to have the opportunity to help others in their time of need. One day I plan to create a youth program ran by survivors that will teach children how to use their voice when someone tries to abuse them in any way. It will offer a place for children to turn to when they have no where else to go or when no one believes their story. I want to call the program H.O.M.E ( Healing Our Minds Everyday)
It has been almost 5 years since my abuse ended and I am now 29 years old. Ever since high school it was my dream to plan events and I have finally achieved that goal! My occupation is office manager and events coordinator of a successful family resort. This milestone would never have been reached without the support from my amazing husband, the love of my daughters and my will to survive!! I get to live the life I've always dreamed and I honestly would not change a thing. All the trauma and all the pain has made me who I am today!
When you are in the midst of experiencing abuse and trauma you never believe it is going to get better and the violence becomes normal. I cannot be more grateful for my guardian angels who watched over me during my early years. They sent me my husband just in the nick of time! I would not be here today if he did not come along and teach me how to love myself.
My goal is to help shed light on the ugly truth that sexual violence is more common then you think. I want to help other survivors end their silence by sharing my story in detail! The longer you stay silent the longer you will take to heal. The more we talk, the louder we will become and the louder we are the more people will listen!
Thank you for taking the time to read my story! I am so grateful to be here today to share it with you all!
I'm so sick of hearing "why didn't they come forward sooner".
When I got out, my abuser pulled of a masterful piece of misdirection. He convinced my girlfriend dump me. He manipulated her into thinking I was terrifyingly evil so she wouldn't listen to a word I said. He made her afraid and suddenly alone. So she hung out with another of his victims. Maybe even dated that guy. Who knows. What I do know is that other guy was too far gone (brainwashed) to be able to protect her from Him.
After I got out, I found it so hard to talk. A cold choking silence would take over me if I dared think of talking about it. I knew that He had done something to me, to us. I tried to write it all down but couldn't get more than two sentences. The best I could manage were small statements about how dangerous He was; about what he might do. I tried talking to the police asking them to protect my (ex)girlfriend but couldn't give them anything they could action. I was terrified of what He might do to her. His lies were sticking in my own head so I actually started thinking I was evil. I became suicidal. I was suffering from depression, PTSD, with DDNOS or possibly DID. Daily and weekly breakdowns became normal.
And what did people think? All of what I was going through, everything I managed to say... Most dismissed it as a hormonal teenager who's GF had just left him, "just looking for someone to blame".
It makes me so angry to think about it now. I still blame myself for being unable to tell anyone, for being unable to find the words. I blame myself for not remembering what had happened. I blame myself for abandoning her. It took me over a decade to piece it all together and by the time I did, what good could I do? Who could I tell? There was even less for the police to go on than when it first happened. If He was going to hurt her then he did a long time ago.
If #MeToo has done one thing then it's given me an excuse to talk about what happened years later. It has told people that even though it happened a long time ago, talking about it is good.
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It's been quite some time since I've been on here or posted much. After I remembered everything, I felt like shit, was depressed, unmotivated and all I wanted was to move on from the trauma I experienced in my past. I am have been in therapy for this whole process. My husband and I where in the process of moving, I was dealing with the healing process from my trauma and finding a place to live. It felt like too much. So I made the decision to not focus on the trauma in therapy for quite some time. Mainly because I had thought ”I don't want to feel like this if I just ignore it ill feel better”. My thoughts were correct at first, I felt great. My husband and I found a place to live and got settled in. When I didn't have the move to focus on, I started thinking about my sexual assault again, going through the events in my head over and over again. I have been depressed for weeks. My therapist believes that since I left the work on the trauma unfinished, that I still need to process the trauma and finish what I started in the healing process.
I feel SO foolish, I would be feeling better already if I hadn't made the choice to stop talking about the trauma in therapy for so long. I'm not going to give up again. I'm going to do everything I can to feel better and move on. I hate that I made that decision to do everything I could to avoid thinking about it and to stop the healing process...
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Obviously I’m new to this whole blog thing. I posted my first entry under the description. Sigh.. Well thank you to anyone who read my novel. It was more for myself than anything. This is the first I’ve put into words the details of what happened to me. We’ll see what happens from here..
I am not sure which it is but my attempt at being open and honest is unsuccessful. I am definitely shutting out. Reaching out is just becoming too painful and isolating. It shouldnt be. People dont realize that words have power. They hurt whether we let on or not. They cut deeper than physical pain at times. And then there is the flat out dismissal of my feelings and thoughts. The dismissal of what I feel because it doesnt look like what they expect or want.
I dont think it is shutting down but it is what I want it to be. Shutting down symbolizes I no longer allow this crap to occupy constant space in my dailey thoughts. It exists but I put it back undrr lock and key. Yes, my feelings and unresolved guilt and shame exist but...they dont matter.
In writing this, it feels like I shouldnt say I am doing either. Announcing it feels attention seeking or not shutting out/down. Either way, attempting to reach out was a fail. Maybe another day I will feel less pessimistic about it.
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On the dance floor I’m spinning
Guys twirl me, in hopes they may be winning
Dance after dance they’re all the same
Acting like I’m a prize, the ultimate game
Stretching out their hand as invitation, asking if I want to play
No, I don’t want to, but I take their hand any way
Suddenly He grabs my hand, imagining his own success
Whispers in my ear, calling me his princess
Guys try for another dance, but he won’t let go of my hand
My stair begs for help, but none of them under stand
Spinning and spinning, every third spin , I see you
The only one who doesn’t notice me, but I need u to
Bright lights make the top of my dress sparkle its shaped like a heart
Lined with shiny silver, gliding his hand over it, he tells me it’s his favorite part
His hands tighten around my waist, making it hard to breath
I’ve targeted u out, I want u to save me, help me leave
Every ones staring, but no one notices his threatening glare
Women whisper around us, saying we’re the perfect pair
I can only breathe when he lets go to let me spin
Noise starts fading around me, the lights are growing dim
Desperately searching needing you or someone to save me
Because I’m trapped, caged, his slave I’ll always be
Spinning and spinning I don’t know how to get away
Screaming out, but no one hears what I have to say
Finally he finds something else, from the ball he does disappear
fear of him coming back, it lingers and haunts, I can’t see clear
I begged u and everyone to help, no one understood
‘How can such an honorable man, not be good?’
Realizing the truth, something I never knew
No one could have saved me, not him her or you
My only hope is to start now and Tell the truth from the beggining
Finally relief Overwhelms me, I’m still, and the room stops spinning
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I have never felt so attacked by the posts I see on social media about how this woman is a liar. I am scared for her. And this triggers fear for my own safety. I wrote to Trump about what happened to me. No response. But he will gladly meet with Kim Kardashian to get a drug dealer pardoned. Am I crazy? That is what echoes in my ears when I hear the hatred people are throwing at this poor woman. I commend her for making something of herself whilst living with this pain. I have given up so much of my life to this. I haven't lived a normal life in 6 years. And I feel more alone every day. Is anyone else affected by what's happening? Please share so I don't feel alone anymore.
I thought that I could escape this, escape being a victim of sexual assault and abuse, but it never feels like I can.
There are seminars about assault, they are required and important but every time I listen I feel trapped and diminished. These seminars paint assault and abuse as something that can be easy to diagnose, and all you need is good friends.
I can't even think, my mind goes dark and I slip into the spiral of my mind.
"Did my friends just think I deserve it?"
"Did I just want it"
"Why didn't I just say no?"
First off, no they don't, no you didn't you were 13, and lastly you did you screamed it but eventually, you stopped because it was easier than the consequences that followed.
But that logic doesn't exist once you are triggered all that goes out the window.
Am I being too sensitive? Is this normal? What am I supposed to do?
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Hi... so I'm not even really sure where to start with this.
I have never opened up to anyone about this until recently and was told that I should share my story with other people who have gone through similar experiences regarding sexual abuse.
I never really even knew I was actually sexually abused until I started getting older and all the repressed memories kept popping into my mind and I could not escape it. It's taking me a while to accept this.
I was sexually abused when I was around 10-11 years old and now I am 26. I was sexually abused by someone who I thought was my friend, we were the same age. The person was a female and I am a female. She came on to me and we had sexual intercourse. At the time, I was too young to process what was going on. I could not speak up for myself because I did not even understand why that was happening. She was my friend, well I thought she was. I don't know if she was sexually abused when she was even younger that had caused her to do that, and I won't ever know because we are not friends anymore. Obviously that is a good thing. But, all I know is that I trusted her and then she did that to me. She sexually abused me, something I never thought I could actually say out loud or even think I was a victim to it. Growing up I had the memory of it and I never expressed it to anyone, so now it is going on almost 16 years since I've let this out. I have not even told my parents, but I told my therapist recently. I am going through a lot of painful emotions and feelings since I've let this secret out. It's been extremely hard to heal from this and I did not even realize all the negative things that stemmed from me being sexually abused. I have trust issues because I trusted her and she abused my trust. I have trust issues in my adult life now for something that happened in my childhood. I am getting older and I want to move on from my past to have peace of mind and a better life for myself, it's an everyday struggle but I am fighting to try and push through all of these negative memories and emotions from my past that has haunted me. I recently graduated with my psychology degree, and I know that I want to help people and eventually be a therapist or a child psychologist. I always knew that I wanted to help people and now it is even more clear to me why. Because I was sexually abused and I want to help other people work through these negative memories and come out even stronger because that is what I ultimately want for myself. But, I know that I still have a lot of work to do on my path of healing and if talking about it and letting other people know that it is possible to heal from being sexually abused as a child helps then I know it's something that will help me too.. It feels better to even write and express all of this.
Well, I did it. I broke up with Libra. It came out of a lot of thinking and a stable mind, thankfully. He drove out to visit, we had a normal night of dinner and our TV show (at home of course), and went to bed. When we woke up and realized there wasn't much to do (rainy weather, no close friends in the area), he became notably upset and aggravated. I asked him what was wrong and he just pushed it off as being bored and wasn't mad. I'll spare all the details, mostly because I've said it all enough to my friends and family, but overall it came out that he still isn't sure that he loves me. I made the executive decision that this was the last straw. If you take back that you love me and are confused about what you want from me, you don't get to be with me. You don't deserve my whole heart and the plan of my future if you don't know what you want with your own.
Oddly, I feel okay. I think it's a strange mix of reality not sinking in and being content with my action to love myself more than I love him. I do love him, very much. But that diminishes when he looks at me blankly and says that he just doesn't feel the same. The only good part to come from our break up conversation was the reality that he is sorry for leading me on and having his own confusion affect me for this long, and that he does feel sad that we're breaking up. I know that a part of him didn't want to, or else he would have broken up with me long ago, and I hope he settles his own mentality before trying to bring me or someone else into something again.
Everyone has their own mental battles, and ours were rather conflicting. His depressive episodes, periods of "silent treatment" as I called it, and intense independence did not mesh well with my anxiety, need for communication, and "hopeless romantic" expectations of living. If that makes sense at all. But really, these conflicts were only when we were both having bad days. On our good days, we fit perfect. And this is what we were both holding onto in the end. I hope we both get the chance to figure ourselves out and how we work with ours/eachother. I don't know what I would say if he changed and wanted to try again. I just don't know yet. It is too soon for me to really give that some thought.
I need to let this be a mature breakup for me. All my previous relationships felt immature and the breakups especially. Some I moved immediately into rebounding to someone else, some I became self-destructive, and now this one I was to be mature. Self-discovery. Self-reliant.
I'll be okay.
"Living just comes with a bit of heartache
Heartache comes with a bit of young faith
Faith stays young till your heart get broken
Hope grows up to become someday"
-Painkillers/Rainbow Kitten Surprise