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CivilCybil

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Blog Entries posted by CivilCybil

  1. CivilCybil

    Bio

    By CivilCybil,

    My past isn’t an easy one… I think you all can relate to that at some level.  I spent a good deal of my childhood being physically and mentally abused by someone that is now sitting in prison as a sexual predator.  Then, I was raped when I was 19 years old, only weeks into living in a town in a state that I had never been in, not knowing anyone.  I was homeless, and very soon after, I found out that I was pregnant.  I thought about adoption, but I just couldn’t do it to myself, because I really wanted my daughter.  I mentally was not stable.  Occasionally I asked for help, but for the most part I hated myself and spent a good deal of my time trying to prove that I deserved to be hated.  Eventually, I became pregnant again and had a son.  A few weeks before I gave both of them up, I woke up one night to find that I had done some damage in self-mutilation, and my daughter in the bathroom with all the blood and razors sitting out there in the open. 
    Today, I know that I did the best thing for my children, standing accountable for my actions, but hoping that my children will find me again.  My daughter has, but I am still waiting for the day my son stands in front of me. 
    I take medication that has kept me stable for the last five years, and I can hold down a job, and have a stable home and relationship with my very soon to be husband, as well as my dog.  Things aren’t easy.  I’m still not capable of caring for any children, but I feel as though I am doing the right things and have made peace with myself mostly.  My anxiety has eased and the nightmares had stopped for a long time.
    There is an aspect of my life that still need improvement.  I have become scared of the intimate parts of a relationship and often feel obligated, rather finding joy that someone wants me despite everything.  When I get touched I feel as though I am losing control of myself and relinquishing it to the possibility of being hurt and attacked again. I could just do without that struggle, but I love my boyfriend, and I think he loves me.  He has asked me to marry him, but sometimes I lose faith and sometimes think it isn’t worth the effort to try anymore, often giving reasons to my struggle by blaming him for his. 
    I was just hoping that I could connect with other people that struggle this and maybe get some encouragement. 
  2. CivilCybil

    Cops

    By CivilCybil,

    I called the police and made a report.  Wasn't sure what to say; details are really foggy.  But, I managed through it.  I was afraid my boyfriend was going to be listening in, because I'm just not sure he wants to know the details, or at least, I'm not ready to give them to him.  I was afraid to give the details to the police too.  What if they didn't believe me?  After all, I don't really know enough details to do bring justice to the event and all we were doing was getting my statement.  What if they didn't make the report?  I needed help, and without it, I can't get counseling that is a little more my financial speed.  There were three officers present, and the first to show up was the male supervisor that had to be there.  That scared me.  I didn't want to give details to a man.  Then two women police officers showed up, and they knew what to do.  They believed me and understood why I was doing it.  The male police officer distracted my boyfriend, and they talked about simple stuff, so he didn't have to hear the details.  
    After all was done, the only thing I could think of doing was cook.  I'm good at that.  Love to eat too, comforting.  Then I made wings for my angels to put on my Christmas tree.  My boyfriend got angry that I didn't want to share the details of what happened, which stressed me even more.  All the busy work I did, didn't seem to help as much as I needed it too.  But, eventually, I made it through the night.
    Time to get up and get dressed and ready for work.  That usually helps me a whole lot.  There are all the little old ladies with their wine, and men who have lists ordered by their wives, and it is my job to make their day a little easier.  It doesn't require a whole lot of effort, but it gets me out of my own head for a little while to worry about other people's moment of happiness when they find what they are looking for and get through the store a bit faster.
    Take care all.
  3. CivilCybil

    My Dog

    By CivilCybil,

    My dog:
    My dog’s name is Niko.  It wasn’t the name I picked out for him, but it was the name he was use to when I got ahold of him.  I was looking for one when a friend told me about him.  She said he was real sweet and smart, but I was a bit leary because of his breed; pit bull.  She kept telling me that the owner was threatening to take him to the pound because nobody wanted a pit bull that she could trust to take care of him the way he deserved.  So, I agreed to at least to take a look at him. The day I met him, and the day he waltzed into my home, was the day he stole my heart.  He has this great big head with the most soulful face I have ever seen. 
    I started training him when I broke my leg. I had time to kill and was a bit immobile for some time.  Now he knows about 30 commands and has bonded to me quite well.  He knows when I am sad or sick and need a snuggle buddy.  While talking to my doctor one day about my dog, he wrote me a prescription for him.  He said it seemed to do me a lot of good to have a focus when I’m out and about.  I heard that people had dogs for PTSD, but it had never occurred to me how they worked.  It seemed that I had trained the perfect dog.
    Talking to other PTSD’s, I found out that I had trained my dog the way their dogs were trained professionally.  Basically, he occupies my mind.  I am too busy controlling him in public to really be concerned about other people around me.  And, I feel safe… because after all he is a pit bull and doesn’t appreciate people yelling at me or being aggressive toward me.  Those that have dogs trained for this purpose have said the same thing, but most were trained professionally.
    Does anyone else here have a prescription for their dog?  I know that I can get a service dog certification for him.  But most sights for such a thing are pay for’s and not really legitimate certifications.  I looked up the national registry, and I could probably get him certified by sending a video of how he reacts to me, and how I react to him, and how well behaved he is.  One day, I’d like to be able to train him in grocery stores, and on the bus, and such, just so I can have him on adventures when I don’t feel as secure as I should be.  Anyone else done this?  Anyone even considered this as an option?
  4. CivilCybil

    My experience

    By CivilCybil,

    I want to share something.  It may be a trigger warning for someone out here.  I wouldn’t read this if you endured a rape that wasn’t based on intimidation.  This maybe something that makes you remember something you don’t want too, or that you can relate to that may hash up those feelings again.  Maybe someone can relate and helps them to know that they aren’t the only ones this has happened too.  In either case, it is pretty intimately detailed, and please use caution when deciding to read this.
     
    My rapist didn’t threaten me.  He didn’t hold a gun to my head, or a knife at my throat.  He didn’t even order me around.  He had simply cornered me.  At the time, I weighed about 85lbs. I was recovering from having a long battle with pneumonia, and that had left me very weak and fragile.
    He was the maintenance man of the property I lived in.  I lived in the camper next to his, and he worked on it a time or two before, knowing about the locks.  He talked to me a good deal the day before it happened, and he expressed a very strong interest in having a relationship with me.  I turned him down several times, explaining my loyalty to my boyfriend, and just being flat uncomfortable with his advances.
    The night of the rape, he knocked on my door, jiggled the door handle, and the door unlocked… something he knew he could do.  He entered into my camper and started talking to me, the same he had tried the previous day.  I was already in my nightgown and was heading to bed when he had come in.  He held onto me, tried to love on me, and kept trying to kiss me.  I kept trying to tell him no and kept trying to get away.  But he was too big for me to fight with, and I froze in fear.  All he wanted to do was show his affection to me and try to win me over, and for me to be in a relationship with him, and love him as much as he thought he loved me.
    The details got foggy from there on out.  I don’t think he choked me or battered me in any way, but I think I shut down with the fear that I had.  I had no bruises or scars to speak about and point to show what happened to me.  The next morning, I got dressed, knocked the hell out of him with a cast iron skillet and ran away, barefoot and half dressed.  All I could think about was to get to my boyfriend, but I had gotten lost in the new town.  I had no one to turn too, and couldn't find my way.  A cop stopped me.  He knew what was wrong, but I was too afraid of the potential he had to harm me, that I couldn’t tell him what had happened.  At the time, I didn’t even know that it was even an attack or rape.
     
    Now, I have a problem.  My boyfriend is desperately trying to show me how much he loves me.  He wants to be intimate with me and love on me.  But the idea scares the hell out of me.  It isn’t because I don’t want it, but because I’m scared of the potential of being vulnerable to the will of a man.  I love him with all my heart and want to be with him, but how can I when I get so afraid of the potential I just freeze up like I did way back then?  I have approached sex as a wham, bam, thank you kind of moment.  I know it is needed, and sometimes I want it too, but the intimacy and desire to love someone that way is just too much for me to bare.
     
    The other thing about me… I was raised with a sexual predator as a brother.  He attacked me physically and mentally starting at the age of eight, and it lasted until I left home at 16.  The abuse was so bad that I had often thought about killing myself.  Later, it came out, and he hit the national news that he was a predator.  I finally felt some type of relief, knowing that my fears of him raping me had some basis, other than a figment of my imagination.
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