I going to start this with the fact that I am survivor of multiple situations of sexual abuse and rape. It's been an issue for most of my life and there are days where I feel like I've brought it all onto myself. There are also days when I look at my current life and realize that I never asked for those things to happen.
My story begins in my childhood. I grew up in a small town with little to no contact with other people my age other than family. My father was a jack of all trades who ended up becoming a mechanic to support us. My mother was a nurse but ended up in prison multiple times due to drug abuse and probation violiations. This left my sister and me to my aunt and grandmother. Everything began here, I think. I remember my cousin attempting things at night. He'd sneak into my room and attempt things while I slept however I wasn't always asleep. I remember bits and pieces but it was definetely not something that should be happening between young children. It was around this time (preschool) that my teachers began teaching us about sexual abuse, "no-no" places, etc. Once I understood what was going on between my cousin and I, remember running to my aunt to tell her. No one believed me though. If anything, I think it made her ignore us more. These situations kept occuring throughout the next few years but were abruptly put to an end when my mother returned home from prison.
Fast forward a few years to my 11th birthday. I moved in with my mom for a short period of time. She'd just moved in with a new boyfriend who I soon discovered was a giant douche. While my mom would be away at work, he would ask me to do horrible things like go through her purse or phone to find numbers from other men. He would tell me stories about her having sexual relations with these men and how horrible she was. I didn't really understand why he told me these things but needless to say, it wasn't right. I moved back in with my dad shortly after and lost contact with my mother for a few years.
Puberty hit, my relationship with my father was becoming rocky. He was stressed, I was stressed. I ended up spending my freetime cleaning the house and taking care of my little sister. He and I would fight constantly. It was around this time that I started exploring my sexuality a bit more. I ended up having a slumber party with a female friend of mine. She was much more mature than I was at the time and we began talking about sex. One thing lead to another and we were naked. I was terrified. I eventually put a stop to things because I couldn't bring myself to do some of the things she requested. The next day, she told everyone in school that I was a lesbian. I lost a lot of friends that year.
A few months later, I went to my best friend's birthday party. I met a guy there, we talked, and I had my first real puppy love. We continued to talk online and eventually after a bunch of crazy situations we started dating. I was 14 at the time and told him (told me he was 17 but was actually 18) I'd give my virginity to him on my 15th birthday. I figured that'd make him happy and I really liked him. Birthday rolls around and things were awkward as hell for me. I'd had zero experience with men nor was I even old enough to really be doing anything. He'd attempt to touch me and do things while my family was preoccupied and ended up staying the night. My mom told him he had to sleep in a different room but of course, that didn't stop him. He ended up sneaking into my room while everyone was asleep and expected everything. I told him I didn't feel ready, that I changed my mind but that didn't stop him. The next day, I wasn't really sure how I felt but I knew he was happy so I felt like I should be happy too.
I didn't see him again until the following month at a convention. I lied and told my parents I was staying with some female friends but had made plans to stay with my boyfriend. He ended up bringing another girl into the room and asked for a threesome. I told him I didn't like the idea of this so he more or less threw me out of the bed and had he way with the other girl while I watched. He broke up with me after this and left me to my thoughts. I made plans to attempt suicide but my friends stopped me and let me stay with them that night. I ended up getting close with another male friend and that night, we fooled around. I didn't really feel right and was still very mentally numb so I barely remember it.
He and I eventually ended up dating much to my parents dismay. (He was 23 and I was 15). My mom allowed this to happen? We hid it from my father and eventually he moved into my mom's to help out with the bills. I eventually moved back in my mom and lived with them. He more or less took care of me and raised me during this time. Paid for my schooling, food, clothes, etc. while my mother continued to battle her drug addiction. My father and I stopped talking so he had no idea what was happening.
I spent my highschool years in a more or less adult relationship that I wasn't ready for. When I wasn't dealing with that, I was taking care of my mother and her equally mentally fucked boyfriend. I fought off her boyfriend's sexual advances multiple times but she never believed me.
I turned 18 and quickly packed my bags and uprooted with the boyfriend. We were homeless for a little while before moving into a shitty trailer with a friend. I started to develop some serious anxiety issues. We fought a lot, tried to see other people, and after much chaos, we finally broke up. A few months later, he took off to Florida and left me with nothing.
I couch surfed again and moved in with some friends. Finally got a job and started to become established. Met another guy and things started all over again. This time, drugs and more drama. He wanted to have sex with other girls and I wasn't okay with it. I was lonely so I put up with him. He cheated and placed the blame on me. He wouldn't allow me to hang out with any of my male friends, would dictate what I wore, how I spent my free time, etc. I thought I had control over things but I was very mistaken. I started drinking and doing drugs with him and of course, this lead to my first real rape that I can remember. We were drunk, he forced himself on me, I cried and told him to stop but he didn't. I tried to forget and just accept it. He continued to guilt trip me into doing things I didn't feel comfortable doing and if I rebeled, he would insult me and make me feel like a horrible person. He would constantly remind me of how horrible I was for sleeping with men while I was so young and how fucked up I was for allowing my cousin to do things to me. After months of this tourture, I started talking with a friend of a friend. We bonded due to the fact that his girlfriend had mentally abused him and cheated on him within the recent months.
Eventually, he came into town and we met up. He ended up kissing me and shit hit the fan. I didnt' allow anything else to happen but I was so confused and upset by the entire thing that I called up my boyfriend the next day and told him what had happened. He called me every name in the book, we fought, we screamed, and eventually he slammed me up against a wall.
I ended up breaking up with him and spent the entire weekend with the guy and ignored my phone. Boyfriend continued to blow up my phone before I finally shut it off. The night ended with guy and I fooling around. We'd been talking about our sexual intrests but I specifically told him that I was not ready for sex. He told me he was okay with this and understood so we continued to fool around. Before I knew it, he was on top of me forcing himself on me. It was like someone flipped a switch in my brain. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, I was numb. He clawed me, bit me, scratched me, etc. I just laid on the bed in shock while he did whatever he pleased to me. Eventually, we fell asleep.
I woke up the next morning to him wanting the same thing. I remember trying to force myself out from under him. I still couldn't tell him how I felt but this time, I pushed him away. He asked if I was okay and I lied. He eventually left and I shut down. I tried to kill myself and my roommates found out and rushed me to the ER. I ended up being placed in the psychward for the night and was eventually released the following morning with a diagnosis of "relationship troubles".
My boyfriend finally got ahold of me that day after he found out what had happened. He invited me over to talk. He grabbed me and cried and appolgized. He was upset by the fact that someone had taken advantage of me and made it feel as though I was the victim for once. He attempted to have sex with me but as soon as he took my clothes off and saw all the cuts and bruises on my body, he lost interest and sent me away.
We spent the next few months trying to work things out between us. We continued to fight. He eventually started placing the blame of my rape on me. He told me I was lying to him because I refused to report the rape to the police. He started calling me a sl*t and started asking for threesomes because it wasn't fair that I had had sex with another man while we were more or less together. He started becoming abusive again and I was mentally falling apart. I wasn't on speaking terms with my family at this time, my grandmother was on her death bed, had a really shitty job that barely paid the bills, and was trying to go to school for a degree I wasn't happy with and couldn't afford. I had just turned 21 so I began to spend my free time in the bars to avoid him. We ended up having a huge fight and back to the bar I went. I ended up running into another guy and it was lust at first sight. I felt so horrible for having feelings for someone else again and the flashbacks started. I couldn't break up with my boyfriend again and go through all this pain but I wasn't happy with him. I made plans to meet up the next night with the guy again and tell him that I had a boyfriend.
A friend of mine tagged along and was supposed to be my moral support through all of this but instead of that, she guilt tripped me into going home with cute guy. In my drunken stupor I ended up staying the night and falling asleep next to him. I woke up the next day to realize that I needed to cut ties with my crazy boyfriend.
I tried to break up with him after this and he flipped his shit. I remember sitting in his van with him with this happened. He started swerving and driving chaotically all over the road, attempting to drive off the bridge we were going over. I calmed him down and we drove back to his place to talk. Talking turned into screaming, screaming into crying, crying into more screaming and things being thrown and broken. He started to slam himself into his walls and tried to physically hurt himself. I tried to stop him but he ended up smashing my hand in the process and continued to do so. I told him I was leaving but he refused to let me leave his house. I ended up staying the night and went into shock again. I was terrified. He told me he would kill himself if i left and made all sorts of promises that he would change. Eventually, he ended up dropping me off at my night class and I imediately called a friend and asked to be taking to the psychward again. They weren't very helpful yet again so I ended up going home. Crazy boyfriend finally got the hint though that I needed to be left alone. We broke up and I started seeing cute guy from the bar. We spent many nights getting drunk at the bar and making plans to do all sorts of wonderful things. We finally made a plan to meet up and have a real date. The same day, I had gotten into a fight with crazy ex over personal belongings. I was pretty devistated by this but had high hopes for my date. I got ready, waited for boy to call, but nothing happened. Later on that night, I got a drunken text from him that he was hanging out with his ex and they were all partying. I lost it again.
I ended up walking out of my friends house that night with no plans to return alive. I walked myself through the shittiest parties of the neighborhood with hopes that someone would kill me since I wasn't capable of following through with it myself. I walked for hours having mental arguements with myself over my self-worth. Eventually, my friend found me and took me back to the ER. The doctors finally saw me and realized that this was more than just boyfriend troubles. They sent me home with a possible diagnosis of PTSD and made plans to get me in with a therapist asap.
I spent the next few weeks staying with a friend while I tried to recover. I saw cute boy a couple more times and we talked but nothing came of it. Crazy boyfriend eventually apologized and we started talking. My grandmother passed away and I felt everything fall apart. Crazy boyfriend made an attempt to be there for me but at this point, I was so mentally numb and lonely that I ended up just getting back with him.
I started going to therapy and things started to get a little better. I was medicated and started to build my life back up again. (I'd dropped out of school at this point). Crazy boyfriend and I ended up moving in with some friends a few months later and things were finally okay. We didn't fight as much and I felt stable for once in my life. I started to ride bicycles and became obsessed with cycling. I started to build up my own hobbies again and stopped drinking and doing drugs as much. Things were great until cute ex guy from the bar ended up talking to me again out of nowhere. Crazy boyfriend flipped his shit, screamed at me, threw things, and broke his computer and we were back at square one. I finally calmed him down enough to explain to him that I had no interest in that other guy but I finally realized things were not going to change. I began to distance myself and started to spend more time with my roommates rather than crazy boyfriend. I started becoming more involved in cycling and began training for race season. I made new friends and started to build a new social life. I felt like I had control over things again.
Crazy boyfriend and I didn't really speak much during this time. Things were relativly peaceful between us but he began to notice that I was spending more time with other friends. He didn't like my new hobby and didn't like my new social circle. Still, he didn't say much. A close friend of mine introduced me to friend of hers who also liked to race bicycles. He and I hit it off and instantly became good friends. We spent many months riding bikes, training for races together, and talked about all the fucked up things in our lives. Crazy boyfriend didn't like this. I didn't understand why at the time because bicycle friend and I were just that. Friends. He was cute but I was mentally burnt out and had no interest in men at the time. We did end up becoming best friends for a while. I started going to his races and opening up to him. We had the same goals and dreams in life. He would give me advice on how to handle my relationship with crazy boyfriend and how to make things better. (I left out a lot of details about my abuse to bicycle friend around this time).
Crazy boyfriend and I started to fight a bit around this time. He was tired of not having control over my life and tried to put his foot down. I rebeled and did my own things. I ended up going out with bicycle friend and my other close friend that night and finally came to the realization that I was in a relationship with a guy I had nothing in common with who treated me like shit while a guy I considered my best friend who shared the same goals in life was standing right in front of me. Feelings started to stew and eventually we both admited that we liked each other. I remember returning home to finding all of my crazy boyfriend's stuff being removed from my room (we were renting our own rooms in this house but we both slept in my room). I put my foot down, mustered all the mental strength I could and told him it was over for good. He cried, he begged, and apologized but I continued to hold strong and left the house for a few days so he couldn't change my mind. I spent the next few days hanging out with bicycle friend. We made a plan for a date and went out together. We clicked instantly and things were wonderful. A few weeks later, we made it official and shit hit the fan again.
I came home to crazy boyfriend bad mouthing me to friends, having people over and ignore me, shit talking me online, etc. I did my best to ignore it but it was pretty tough. I ended up losing a lot friends during this time but I felt like it was for the best. I started spending my free time with my new boyfriend and things were better. Within the next few months, I ended up moving in with him. Things were pretty great. He was extremely understanding of my past and worked with me on a lot of my issues. I was officially diagnosed with PTSD at this time. There were many nights that ended with me waking up crying. New boyfriend would calm me down and talk to me. He wouldn't coddle me but instead, told me to stay calm and think about what was really going on around me. We continued to live together and things were great. I told him everything that had happened in my past and he continued to help me. He was never pushy and never made me do anything I didn't feel comfortable doing. He let me do things at my own pace and was there to support me if I needed it. We lived together for the next year before we finally realized that we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together.
We've been engaged for a year now and our wedding is a half a year away.
He made me realize what it was like to finally be loved for who I was. Since I've been with him, I've learned to love myself a bit more and work towards what I want to do with my life rather than living my life to the expectations of another. I still have mental ups and downs but I am finally on the road to recovery.