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About this blog

How I hoped everything would be okay and casually get better. How I also learned that hope breeds eternal misery. How I plan to fix my life for the better

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survivor122509

I'm going through one of those moments where I can't breathe. My boyfriend touched me when I was against the wall and I broke down, crying, begging on my knees for him to stop. He touched my side. That was it. I don't know what to do. My nightmares are back. I haven't had one of my night terrors yet, but I am just as affected. I want to crawl into a hole and die. I continue to remember the phrase: One wrist for attention, two for results. No matter how much I tell anyone that I am a survivor, I still feel like a victim. I haven't survived anything. I am still in hell and only after it has completely passed will I be a survivor. I don't want people to look at me. I feel like everyone can see right through me and I don't like how that feels. Despite my embarrassing reaction to him, I just want my boyfriend. I want him to hold me and never let me go. I hate being away from him because he protects me and would never let anyone hurt me.

I really don't want to be here anymore. I say I want to go home, but even when I am home, I say it. I am wishing to be in a place that doesn't even exist. A place that I can be happy. A place where no one can hurt me. I'm just a poor, broken child.

survivor122509

SO! As some of you may know, two of my brothers were responsible for me when I was raped, but they were both gone when it happened. My brother J, the older one, finally apologized yesterday. After almost 6 years, he told me he didn't want to believe that something like that could've happened to me on his watch. I hadn't done anything with him, just he and I, since he joined my brother A and called me a liar. I took him out yesterday for his birthday and spent a bunch of money on him because he never gets anything new. He supports his family, but no one supports him. All his extra money goes toward his 5 almost 6 children. While I was driving, he told me how sorry he was and that he wishes he knew where my rapist is now so he could kill him. But the statute of limitations is up in my case and I can't do anything about it.

survivor122509

This entry is going to explain why I chose Eternal Misery to be the name of my blog. There are actually a few reasons why. The first big reason: I don't believe in hope. I know that's probably a big problem with some people, but hope has never gotten me anywhere in life. I believe that hope breeds eternal misery. Every time I have hoped or prayed, nothing ever happened. What really took the cake was laying there, being raped and hoping that it was a dream. Hoping that my brothers would walk in and save me. Hoping that they would believe me when I told them. It wasn't a dream. My brothers did NOT come and save me, nor did they believe me when they found out. At that moment, I didn't believe in God. I didn't believe that there was any chance that he existed because if he did, he would've helped me. I can't think of one thing in my life that this God has done for me. I mention in another entry that I stayed with my grandfather who taught me enough to get me back on my feet. Don't misunderstand, he tried teaching me about God and telling me how wonderful he is, but I was already torn away from that. Being with my grandfather made me feel safe. If there was a God, he was definitely watching over my grandfather and nothing would happen to me while I was in his hands. He would die before letting anything happen to me. My soulmate is a Jehovah's Witness and wants me to be a part of the religion with him, but I pretty much refuse. I told him that I would go to his services and all that for respect, but I will never fully believe that there is someone up there who helps anyone. I apologize if I offend anyone, but I can't believe in something or someone who has always let me down when I put my life in his hands. When my boyfriend and I talk about his religion, I find every hole I can in the religion, which he loves and hates. He loves that I am somewhat interested, but at the same time, he hates that I refuse to believe. Tell me, how can a God obsessed person fall in love with someone who is the exact opposite?

The next reason for the name: Eternal Misery, is because this is something that is going to stay with me forever. I have NIGHT TERRORS. This man STOLE my life from me before it even begun and I won't ever get that back. I am never going to be able to forget what happened to me, and quite frankly, I don't think I want to. There were MANY bad things that came from being raped, but also, there are some good. I was a horrible person before it happened. I have changed drastically since then. I have been speaking and making people aware that this does happen and I want to make more people aware. I have made friends with people who have been raped, and I have helped them get better while getting better myself. I have been trying my hardest to make people aware. This stuff does happen and people need to know about it. Going back to the first point, some might say that God opened my eyes through this, that was his plan all along. But I don't believe it, no matter what. I wasn't doing anything bad enough to deserve rape. So, no, that's not his plan and I am not going to live by that.

Lastly, how do I know if this God answers? Like I said, he has never answered me before, so why should I believe in him. I am still waiting on someone to convince me that he exists. My boyfriend still hasn't been able to convince me and he is the one person left in this world that I trust. If anyone wants to try and tell me how God answers, by all means, try. But I don't see anyone actually convincing me. As I said before, God doesn't answer me. God never helped me. To me, God is just a ray of hope. I will look at the sky and know that there is a higher power. But I doubt that I will ever submit to it and let it wash over me. I apologize for my thoughts, but I just needed to get that out there and explain the name of my blog in detail. Thanks for taking time to read this.

survivor122509

I honestly don't know what to do about my boyfriend anymore. He knows that I was raped and that I am not good with a lot of touching. I cannot be touched on my stomach or my sides because of this rape. I don't like taking off my shirt and showing people my stomach or my scar from the knife on my hip. I don't like being carried. He just won't understand that part. He wants so badly to break me of that. I don't want the pain of trying. I want him to give that up. I don't like being off the ground in ANYONE'S arms. We aren't planning to have sex, which is wonderful right now, but he keeps doing the touching. I have to remind him not to and sometimes, it's like he doesn't even hear me. I have to get really serious. I don't want him near my vagina, or lifting my shirt to touch the skin on my sides. I am very surprised as to how this even happens. I want him. I wish this could happen, but once it starts to happen (even though I know it really isn't going to (we are waiting for marriage)), I panic and want him off of me.

Most of the time, I feel completely safe with him. He turns me on, just like normal people. But I don't want the touching. He knows we are going to have to go really slow when we start having sex in the future. I have loved this man since we were four years old. We are now 17 and our hormones get raging when we get in the moment. He has never had sex, never even masturbated, so I understand that it's difficult. I know we aren't going to have sex, so I am still surprised at my reactions. I don't understand how I have to force him to stop touching me if it's not going anywhere.

Before you get the idea in your mind, my boyfriend is not abusive. He tries his best to protect me. He tries to help me through the nightmares or the night terrors but sometimes, he's in the nightmares. He is watching me be abused and just stands in shock. I scream for him and beg him to save me and he just stands there. Why does he stand there? Why can't he help me? I wake up and I don't talk to him. I don't want him anywhere near me, even though I know he would never do that in real life. I just don't know what this entry is even about anymore. I just needed to get this off my chest. I love him with all my heart, I just don't know how to get over some of these things. I guess it's one of those things that's easier said than done. I need advice, anyone know what I could do to get over this?

survivor122509

I haven't posted in a while, but I just wanted to quickly give a list for advice...if you are a rape victim:

  1. TELL SOMEONE - Make your voice heard. You have one and it is damn sure louder than the abuser.
  2. PRESS CHARGES - I understand that some people are not able to. It can be too intimidating or too scary. But if I was given the chance to go back and get justice, I would have done it in a heartbeat. I regret not doing it. I live with the guilt of him possibly going out and doing it to someone else and I wish I would've done something.
  3. FIGHT LIKE HELL - NEVER GIVE UP! You make sure that you stand by your decision. Make this person suffer for what they did to you. Brand them like they did you. You are now a Sexual Assault Victim, they are now a Sexual Predator and they can NEVER live that down.
  4. DON'T BE EMBARRASSED - This is not something that is your fault, you can do this. Stand up for yourself and prove that you are stronger than what they think you are. You can be bigger than what they make you out to be.
  5. BE STRONG - If it feels like no one is in your corner, know that I am. It might not mean much since we don't know each other, but I am here for anyone who needs it. I wish to help people as much as I can. I will be in your corner no matter what. I support your actions, even if you don't follow my advice. It can be hard at times, but I will help you get through it if need be.

I hope this little 5 step advice helps even a little bit.

*X*O*

GABMC

survivor122509

After my rape, I refused to go back to stay with my brother. I wouldn't look or speak to anyone. I stayed in my room all the time and grew more and more depressed. When I had to go to school, I stared out the window, wondering how long it would take me to get to the ground if I ran right through the window. Would I die when I ran through the glass? Would I die during the fall? Or would I die when I hit the ground and made a disgusting, but satisfying splat? I even asked if that was the way to do it. I didn't want to attract any more attention to myself. I was one of the popular girls in my school, which boggled me. I had a flat ass, but big boobs, a not-so-pretty face, I didn't know how to dress or even do my hair. The rape ruined me. I gave up my life and lost all of my friends. I stopped talking to them and they stopped talking to me. I got to lunch early and sat first so I didn't have to burden anyone with my presence.

I would go home every day and look at the knives in the drawers, I would pick one up occasionally and place it to my wrist. I would repeat the mantra in my head, every time. "One wrist is just for attention. Two shows I really mean to kill myself." I never did cut myself. I watched my sister cut herself through the years. My mom always questioned what happened to her that was so bad that she had to harm herself. I didn't want my parents to ask me questions. I didn't want to press charges. I never wanted to see that creep again. I wanted to wait until I was home alone, I would either hang myself or get into the tub and slit my wrists. My parents never left me alone. I thought about doing it at night, but I knew I was clumsy enough to do it wrong.

For months after the rape, I saw his face everywhere. It was like he was following me. Every time I looked at a man, I saw that same smirk that K gave me. My heart would pound and I wanted to die. HE FOUND ME. I would get off the bus at my house and sprint to the door, because he would be waiting a block down. When the bus pulled up, he started walking. I saw him in stores, libraries, everywhere...After a few months, he was gone. I never saw him again. I always hoped that he was dead, that someone killed him and spared our lives.

My brother (called A in the last story) brought home his first girlfriend in March-ish of 2010. I found comfort in her. I felt like I could tell her anything...So I did. I told her about my rape (not going into detail, just that it happened and A and J weren't there to save me when they should've been). I begged her to keep it between us. She went to A and told him exactly what I said and he didn't believe her. He gave me the cold shoulder for weeks. Thus, bringing me back into my depression. I felt as though he had a part in it because he didn't care enough to figure out what happened in my life.

My mom couldn't figure out what was wrong with me, so after school ended that year, she sent me to live with my grandfather for the summer. He was a Reverend at his church in Maryland, while I lived in Indiana. I found myself there. I felt completely safe. I cried every night, ecstatic that I was with him. I never met him before then and this meant an awful lot to me. He took me to church and tried teaching me the ways of Christian life. I have never been a religious person. By that time, I wasn't even sure that there was a God. If there was a God, he would've protected me and not let me get hurt the way I was. But my grandfather taught me enough to bring me back to who I knew I was before.

By the time school started back up in August, I was ready to take back my friends. Instead, I made new friends, and was bullied by the old ones. I could never get back to who I was. Everyone was blossoming and I was still with a zitty face and messed up look. I was 12 years old and in the 7th grade. I got through the rest of 2010 and went straight into 2011. I refused to celebrate Christmas or even my birthday in November. I turned 13 that year. In March of 2012, my brother M came home from being in Juvy for 3 years. He was my best friend growing up. We were inseparable. I know he never would've let anything happen to me if he was there that night in 2009.

Anyway, J, A, M, and I were all sitting in their room (K moved back in with my family due to a divorce). We were all making jokes, happy that M was finally home. I don't remember how the conversation came up, but I do remember A saying "Oh whatever, you're such a liar! You always lie! Telling my girlfriend that you were raped! You're so stupid!" Then J responded with, "I know right! Who would even want to have sex with you?!" They all proceeded to laugh while I sat there and cried, saying it was true. A: "Prove it! Go tell mom and dad right now that it happened, or it didn't!" I screamed, "IT'S NOT THAT EASY! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" and I ran out of their room and into my own and cried some more. I felt betrayed all over again. I knew I had to kill myself then. I couldn't just continue to be treated that way. Everywhere I went, someone was judging me.

It wasn't all bad, though. In June of the same year, 2012, my mother, sister, and I all sat and had girl talk. We all had the biggest heart-to-heart moment. I just knew my sister knew about what happened to me. She drew it out of me that night by telling my mom that she was raped at a young age. My mom started crying. My sister stared and me and I felt the pressure, so I also told my mom that I was raped, but mine was more recent than hers. We found out that night, that of my mom's 4 biological children, 3 of us had been sexually abused in some way, but mine was at a time where it could damage me emotionally because I could understand more at that age. I told them about how J and A accused me of lying and not being there. My mom started to confront the two of them and was really angry that they weren't there to save me. That they didn't even believe me.

My mom took me to a gynecologist. I was scared at that time. They knew about my rape and they wanted to check me for STD's and damage. They checked to see if the "virginity" was broken, which it was. When they told my mom, she started to cry. They ran tests and made me get blood work. All of the test came back negative, so I was in the clear. I will never forget the woman who took my blood. She closed the door while I was in there with her. She told me she read my file and said I looked a little young to be having sex and wanted to know the truth. So i told her that I had been raped. While she took my blood, she told me a story about how an unwanted pregnancy could ruin a life. She said she got pregnant at 15 and had her son. "Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my son. But you know, I was raped at 14, and I wish I didn't get pregnant. It brought up some emotions from me because I had a pregnancy scare after the rape that I never told anyone about. I started to bloat real big after a few months and hadn't gotten my period. I even puked a few times and went insane with food. After thinking about it carefully later, I though, "Maybe I lost the baby" or "Maybe it was just the depression".

I never gave ANYONE the full story. The first time I have ever told anyone the full story was a couple days ago on this blog. I didn't even tell my psychiatrist the full story. I didn't stay in therapy very long. I didn't find comfort in it. Shortly after I stopped, though, I started having Night Terrors. This was in the middle of my Freshman year in high school (I started at a new school with new people, an early college program with kids from middle schools all over the county, no one knew anyone outside of their middle school). I would have nightmares about the assault and would kick and scream in my sleep. My dad always came to my rescue and was always my shoulder to cry on when it happened. I would wake up, not able to breathe, and soaked in sweat.

My life was HELL from December 25, 2009 all the way through now. I have my good days and I have my bad days. I have a WONDERFUL boyfriend who understands me and helps me get through everything. I have a 3.8 GPA and will be receiving my Associates Degree with my High School Diploma (Core 40 Honors) in June of 2016. I am surrounded by people who love me and I have a wonderful support group, but no one in it understands what it is like to be raped at 12 years old. I am almost 18 and I still don't understand why it happened to me. That is why I started this blog. I wanted to find people who relate to me so I can speak to them on my worse days. Every day is a learning experience for me and I am ready to get my story out there. I REGRET not telling anyone about what happened to me. If I would've spoken up and told the truth, the man who raped me would be behind bars. I have to live with the guilt of not locking him up and him possibly raping another young girl. I will no longer sit and hide in the corner. My life has meaning too. I am stronger than ever before and I will start to fight back. PLEASE anyone who still has time, TELL SOMEONE. My statute of limitations is up. I can no longer press charges if I wanted to. If you have the chance, do it. It will be the most fulfilling thing you will ever do in your life.

survivor122509

In the beginning, I was naive. I didn't listen to anything my parents would tell me about safety because I just knew that nothing bad would ever happen to me. My mom would always grab me and hold me before I walked out the door. "Come back to me in one piece." She would always tell me. I always brushed it off. I was too special to be one of those kids. I would always make it home. I made it through years of carelessness and foolishness.

My favorite holiday growing up was Christmas. All of my siblings would get together with their kids and spouses and we would just have a ball. My dad would cook some big elaborate meal and we sat down to eat it as a family. One of the only times a year we ate as a family. Then, when we were completely done with our celebration, my siblings and I would all go over to my brother's home with his kids and wife. One year, 2009, we celebrated Christmas a day early because my mom had to work on Christmas. It was a wonderful day. I got everything I asked for, being the youngest child and all. By far the best celebration we ever had. Like every year, when we were done, two of my brothers and I went to his house to play our new Xbox games and watch our new seasons of Family Guy. We will call the older of the two, J and the younger of the two, A.

We were at J's house. His wife took the kids to her mother's so they could celebrate Christmas the next morning with them. My brother gave me his laptop and told me to go to my nephews' room so they wouldn't disturb me and vice versa. My nephews had bunk-beds, so I climbed up to the top, excited about getting to watch my new DVD's. I would come out of the room every once in a while to grab something to drink. Once, there was a man standing out there with my brothers. J told him he couldn't stay that night since I was there. I guess J and his wife had a roommate and this was her boyfriend. They had the same name, but spelled differently. She is C and he is K.

Anyways, I noticed the look K kept giving me. I felt a little sketchy about it, but didn't think twice about it. I was only 12 and no one had ever bothered to look at me with sensual eyes before. Or even dangerous eyes. I retreated back to the room and continued to watch. Then, at around 1:30 Christmas Morning, K came into the room. He brought me a drink and asked if I wanted it. He told me him and C went to the McDonald's right down the street and they didn't want the drink. I told him no thanks. He kept staring at me. Told me how beautiful I was. He grabbed a lock of my long curly hair and twirled it in his fingers. I asked him not to touch me because I didn't feel comfortable. He then asked me to come down to his level and talk and I refused. I wanted to leave, but there was no way out.

Next thing I know, he's got his hands under my arms and is picking me up off the bed (these beds aren't very tall, the child who slept on top of it was only 6). I'm kicking and screaming, telling him to get off of me and begging for someone to help me. He brought me out into the walk-in closet in the living room and pulled out a knife. He pushed it against my left hip and covered my mouth. I'll never forget his cold-blooded voice. "Scream, and I'll use this." He dug it in a little, enough to make it bleed. Then he pulled down my sweats and panties and before I know it, he was inside of me. I wanted to scream so bad. I started bleeding down there too, and I didn't understand what was going on. I never knew that I would bleed. I thought I was dying...I HOPED I was dying. I wanted nothing more than my brothers to come in and save the day. But no one was there for me when I needed them most.

I know it didn't really last for hours, but that's what it felt like. It felt like forever for him to get off me. He finished inside of me and then told me not to tell anyone or he would kill me. I laid there, sobbing, glad it was over. I waited in the closet until I knew for sure that he left. I walked out of the closet and went to the bathroom. I made myself look presentable and walked right back out into the living room. There they were, my brothers. They walked to the McDonald's THEMSELVES and got a ton of food. I smiled and pretended to be okay, but I was limping. A noticed and asked what was wrong and I just told him I jumped off the bunk a little too fast. That night I slept extra close to J. I woke up really sore and I forced him to bring me home. I never went back to stay with him after that. That wonderful Christmas Day was tainted and I have NEVER been able to enjoy another Christmas since.

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