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Found 13 results

  1. rsilver15

    Life is...

    Life is, in a word, ridiculous. I will never understand how people can go through life with complete faith in one thing, when things happen daily that cause me to question everything I think I know! Sometimes I feel like there has to be a loving God looking out for us, but other times I feel like however we got here, we’re on our own now. It is hard to reconcile the evidence when it is so contradictory. On the one hand, you have man’s capacity for love and intimate relationships, free will and knowledge, growth and ability to change, acts of anonymous kindness and global goodwill that bring tears to your eyes. On the other, you have endless examples of man’s willingness to destroy, the greed and pettiness and judgment and fear that seems to drive us so often, the starving and the desperate left to die without aid from the mega-rich, hoarding their millions away without a thought towards those less fortunate… There are earthquakes and mudslides and hurricanes and fires and tornadoes and tsunamis and everything that tells us nature is against us, it’s a battle for supremacy or the act of an angry creator wiping out his disappointing creation....And yet you also have rainbows and sunsets, the water cycle in its simple brilliance, the beauty of the oceans and the mountains and the forests, the changing seasons, and how everything seems to be interrelated somehow. All of this beauty totally at odds with all of the ugliness - is it meant to be a balance? Sometimes I think so. But then there's the more hurtful proofs, the things that happen to us in our own lives. Weeks like this, when the hits just keep on coming and it seems that everywhere I turn there is another example of how absolutely horrible life can be, it is so easy to see the bad and it feels almost impossible to see any of the good. A friend asked me to tell her something good that happened to me the other day, and for the longest time I couldn't think of anything. Not even one small thing, and it's not that absolutely nothing positive had happened, it was just that my perspective had been so focused on the bad that I couldn't recognize anything else. I know I've had no shortage of times like this, and in these moments there's no amount of rainbows or sunsets or shooting stars or unicorns that could make me feel that the good outweighs the bad or even that somehow it balances out. In these moments I'm convinced that things are hopeless. But somehow, every time, I find myself having hope. Maybe that's just life. And like I said, life is ridiculous.
  2. Sometimes, I still feel like that child. That scared shitless kid hiding in a closet, hoping that all of this will end. Waiting for the yelling to stop and for the threat to go away. Hoping that this won't happen again. That I'll be okay and that I can just go about my life normally like I did before all of this began. Deep down, I'm still that 11 year old girl who feels the hope depleting from their spirit. Who feels the light drain from their life. She's still there. When most people look at me, they see a growing woman. Someone who's "going places" in life. And when I tell them I'm more destined to kill myself or end up a failure, they look at me like I'm a joke. Like I'm joking. Like what I'm saying is something to be laughed at. Like that's just "my sense of humor." I've spent a lot of time these past few years working to stop hating myself. I haven't done the best job. Some days I feel like I've made and others I want to throw myself off a building. But I've tried endlessly to reconcile what I feel with who I am now. People will always tell you that you need to learn to love yourself. In order to love the rest of the world, in order to live a positive life...you have to love yourself. Or at least like yourself. What they don't tell you is you have to love every part of yourself. What I've done all these years is repress my 11 year old self. I didn't love her. I pushed her back into that closet and let her live in fear. I've let those horrible moments be her entire existence. That's the only life she's known so fear is the only thing I know everyday of my life. Anxiety. Sleepless nights. This endless cycle. I need to unlock that closet. And let her out. Reconcile what she feels with the rest of myself. I hate her. I hate that scared, weak child. I blame her. For not being stronger or louder or faster. I blame her for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. In my mind, for years, she's been what ruined my life. That's not true. And I need to realize and reconcile the truth with who she is now. With who I am now. I'm someone who survived something awful. And I didn't fall into the woodwork. I didn't give up. I didn't become another at risk teen who couldn't make it. I didn't become another rape victim who kills herself-- though I have tried and sometimes consider it. I didn't become just another statistic for some report. I'm so much more than that. Every one of us is so much more than that. My life would just be another news story. Another thing that people forget about. Typical. Forgettable. But if I keep fighting I have the potential to change my life. To change the lives of others. To make an impact. People will see me for who I am rather than what I was. For what happened to me. I'm more than that one moment in life...though it often does define much of my character. I'm a survivor. And whoever you are, most likely if you're reading this, so are you. I know things are hard. I know just how fucking painful all of this is-- even years later. It's hard. It's always going to be there. It's never going to be easy. But you have to love every part of yourself. You have to reconcile your emotions. Settle this inner turmoil. No matter what you have to do. I'm still trying. Still working. Don't let this give you the impression that I'm okay. That I'm healed. I'm still working on it. Still trying. Everyday. And if you need someone to talk to...if you need help...shoot me a message. I'm always here. For anyone who needs it. Even if I can't give the best advice or give any answers. I know that sometimes all you need is for someone to listen. -Lane.
  3. The days go by. Slowly. One by one. Life travels sometimes at what feels like a snail's pace. Everyday is just another trial of what I can really get through. Or another test of whether or not I can make it. Some days, I wake up and I won't to put a bullet in my head. Getting up feels impossible. Survival feels improbable. I have a hard time seeing any reason to be alive anymore. I feel hopeless. Worthless. Like a shell of a human being. I'm not who I used to be. I'm nothing like who I used to be. I used to be happy and full of life. Now, though, I'm scared and constantly wanting to disappear. There are these brief moments, however, when I feel okay. When I feel like the days will go by and I will one day be normal and adjusted. There will be a time where the nights go by without fear or nightmares. A time when I'm healthy and healed and what happened was just a memory rather than a defining part of my entire character. I just know, though, that that simply is not realistic. I will never get there. Some days, I can only see my future as painful and fearful. A time where the days will continue to go by slowly. Each day feeling like a lifetime. I had a dream once, where I was 40 years old and still the same. I was still scared and jumpy. In my dream, I was just as lonely as I am now. Just as isolated. I lived alone. I was destined, at that point to die alone. There are brief moments, though, where I can see potential. Potential for life to be new and different. Where I can be something more. Where I'll fall in love and get married. Have a family and pets. A house with one of those picket fences. I have the teaching job I always wanted. I work everyday and I'm happy. I'm okay. I don't cry at night. I don't get scared in the dark. I don't feel alone in the days. I'm still young-- I technically have time. I just know that that reality is too idealistic for myself. I know that can't be me. I know that I'm destined to forever be confined to my own prison of fear. It's torturous. No one understands me. No one understands why I'm so afraid. Why I'm so alone and purposefully isolated. I can't tell if it's better that way or not. Once people profess to understand you, they make assumptions and they make judgements. They make suggestions and intrude on your life. They tell you what helped them assuming you're the same. Or they force things on you. They tell you that it's your fault you're like this. That you need to move on and to get over it. They don't realize that you've been trying for trying to do just that for years. Get over it. Now that's the real dream. To be "over it." But, again, I don't think that's a reality that I'm going to be able to achieve. The days will continue to just go by. One by one. Day by day.
  4. To believe that everyone cares and to find out that they really don't care is the worst way to feel. It's the worst feeling in the world. And you sit at home contemplating how your life even got to be a mess. You sit at your glass table by your laptop, attempting to spill your heart out - Although, this blog posting may only get one read or two. Reason why, because I'm that invisible girl that everyone knows me for. I'm that girl that can be easily passed by on the streets and everyone would assume she's okay when she's not. I'm that girl that has been through an incredible amount of pain and regret, yet nobody cares, or does not want to care. I'm that girl that has been banned from all support groups especially when that was the only help I had for myself. I'm that girl that can't quit assert herself and lets other take advantage of me. I'm that girl that will be used again and again and again - Nobody understands the hurt they have caused - Because it's a never ending cycle and to be completely honest is too hard. So we result to our mean ways - To be cruel. I'm that girl that you can manipulate and lie about just so you can please yourself and others. I'm that girl that has been sexually assaulted three times by individuals half my age. One time, by a sixty year old man. And as he lay on top of me, the only thought in my mind was this: "Why did I leave home?" If I hadn't of left my Mom's place, I wouldn't be in this mess. I wouldn't be struggling through addictions nor would I have burned all these bridges with different organizations that now hate my guts - And I hate them too. I'm that girl that you can mock and mock and mock and nobody would stand and do or say anything. Just for the fun of it. I'm like a doll. You can easily manipulate and torture me in whatever way possible. Because it's easier that way. Because this is the way our society is. I'm that girl that endlessly cries in hope that someone hears. However, we're in the middle of nowhere with trees and bushes and nobody can hear. Even if I scream, nobody can hear. The closest sign of civilization is about three hours away walking distance, up at a local convenience store. But whose going to care? That's right - Nobody. I'm also that girl that does not deserve any help whats so ever. I deserve to wallow in my tears and die because that's all I'm good at; this is my destiny. Sometimes I wonder if I'm cursed or something from all the hurt I've done to others in the past and even today. Sometimes I wonder if I deserve all of these horrible things happening to me. Often, I believe this may be the case. As much as I don't want to believe it, I know it's true. I'm cursed and known to be invisible by everyone. I can't wait until the next guy abuses me... AGAIN. ~
  5. I don't know the first thing about writing a blog. All I know is I survived. There is more of me broken than functional - but something small, somewhere inside me persists that that will not always be the case. So here I am, writing about it. (For all intents and purposes, and I still wan't nothing to do with them, my abuser will be called "X") I was with someone, who didn't care. I was with SEVERAL someones who didn't care, at least about me. However, this one in particular had brought me lower than I have ever been. We met under incredibly ordinary circumstances, nowhere I would consider special, and he was so handsome, confident, driven and direct. He knew what he wanted in life. He was charming and exotic, and I was definitely interested. He approached me, we exchanged numbers and I stepped on the path that many of you readers unfortunately have traveled. I like to think it was because I was young, or maybe that I was naive that I didn't see all the red flags. Down the road though I genuinely believed it was my fault that everything went down as it did because I wasn't strong enough and felt like I couldn't say no - even when I did. He used me however he pleased - regardless of if I said "no". He'd just go for it; wherever he wanted, however he wanted, and on his terms. Most of the time I'd go along with it because it was easier, less hassle and would be over with sooner. I felt obliged - I was with him. I remember searching for help and seeing articles of people staying in crazy relationships - but when you're with someone long enough, certain things become the norm, and you adapt and become numb. That's what I did. How could I leave the one I loved? The one I'd given up everything for? I was so invested, I left everything for him and his family. I spent countless hours helping his family run/build a business for free (which is still successful), writing their business plan, legalities, taking his siblings to school, getting things for the business, taking care of the animals, helping his mom with things around the house, working at a new job one of his brothers had finagled for me because he liked the lady who was later my boss(so I felt indebted to X's oldest brother). You name it. I had obligations, they depended on me and I began to live with them because I didn't want to let them down, and I wanted to matter so badly (This I chalk up to my home life as well as how X treated me). Also, I felt obligated. How could I say no? I was scared to say no. I fought endlessly with my mother about my living situation and defended him because I believed that I loved him, that he was really worth it, loved me and would treat me better when I deserved it. He still doesn't know everything that happened to me. Really, I don't think anybody does. Not even my therapist. I refused to admit that I was raped when coming out of the hospital because I didn't want to see X or deal with him or any of my other aggressors again and if I caused them real trouble they'd come after me. I refused to see his dark side! I countered it with good qualities or at least mentally altered his qualities into good ones just so I could get by. I tried everything I could to make us work because a committed relationship is something you've gotta work at right? I knew I was so helpful to these people, and that was good for me but I also knew I was incredibly disposable at the same time. I couldn't just LEAVE, could I? Well, X wasn't my first assailant and I hadn't had any REAL lessons in creating boundaries or learning to say no at this point in life. I was the perfect prey and I hated myself because I didn't know what I was doing wrong or what it was that I couldn't see. I was the pretty, caged canary forced to sing at his leisure...either that or he was the prowling cat looking to eat its favorite parts one piece at a time. He'd force himself on me, occasionally promising "just one more time" - swearing that it would be the last - but it never stopped and it only got worse. All the way until the only way I thought I could end it would be dying. Yes. Dying. "Dying? Isn't that extreme? Couldn't you just leave?" No. No, because in my mind there was no way out. I tried to leave, but he was so good at the mind games. He'd have me crawling back saying sorry, feeling guilty that I had left and grateful that I had returned, often turning to extremes to get me to come back. When things would get so bad he'd make grand gestures to show he'd "changed" and every damn time I'd believe him. There was no way that all of this was happening and he didn't see it as wrong. Surely he would change, wouldn't he? For me? For love? Spoiler alert: It got worse. He wasn't just sexually abusive and emotionally - physical abuse came swiftly after discussing marriage. You have to understand that THIS was my world of relationships. I didn't really SEE how horrendous this was because I didn't know any better, and I was numb. Whatever better there was out there just wasn't for me or didn't exist. I still grieve that I wasn't loved the way I deserved. For many a partner I was mistreated, abused, and expected to be fine. It was a never ending roller coaster of feeling strong and then weak on a loop from standing up after being broken. The day I decided to die, I had moved out, but come back to say sorry because I didn't tell him when I was leaving. I told him I was leaving him, but I didn't say when or how or where. I thought he was going to kill me. He glared saying "how could you do this to me, I loved you" while standing in the bathroom doorway because he came back while I loaded everything into my mother's truck. Do understand how messed up I was that I felt like I needed to go back to say how SORRY I was for leaving HIM??? I stayed the night, and he said he wouldn't take me back. If HE of all people who cared the least and yet the most about me didn't want me back - no one would. I officially lost my value and that morning I didn't go to work, I hid a large kitchen knife in my waistband and told everyone there (his brothers were living with us at the time for free and I was the only source of income because he refused to get another job after leaving his other one) I was going to shower. Blood can't clot if it's still wet. I closed the broken bathroom door, and went to work. The first few cuts were almost nice because the pain was better than the emptiness I felt and I felt alive, but my body shortly decided to numb the area and I was able to go deeper and farther running my arms and the backs of my ankles under water to prevent the clotting. One of our dogs pushed open the door because I was crying, I pushed them out and got blood on his face. X saw this and screamed at me "What did I tell you??? WHAT did I tell you?!" He told me that if I was gonna go die I should do it outside by the parking spot of our duplex. So, I proceeded to the door to go do so and he slammed the door in my face to prevent me from going out and hit me so hard across the face. The force that he hit me with registered, but I was light headed and numb from blood loss and filled with adrenaline and anger - so I didn't feel it and I hit him back - which I had never done, at least like this. I had lost so much blood in my arms that my hands were in fists and curling back to my body downwards, so hitting him was more like swinging a club or dead arm, and I couldn't feel it, but I know it was hard - and he hit back, even harder. We went at it for a moment as he continued to say that all he cared about was how much the blood on the carpet was gonna cost him, how stupid I was, how all this was gonna make him look, what he was supposed to tell people about what happened, etc. One of his brothers came to wrap me up and I wouldn't let him, I just kept screaming that I wanted to die. I had no value, I had no self worth, and the people that had ever claimed to love me did unspeakable things to me. I was nothing. I passed out from blood loss, his brother took me to the hospital because X wanted to shower and get spiffed up before going to the hospital. How do I know this? He said so "YOU go take her to the hospital. I need to go take a shower first." I just wanted to die. I gave everything I had and I had no will to live. I hated him. I hated that I loved him. I hated that I loved him and he didn't give a _____ about me. I did everything for him and his family, and he couldn't have cared less. Maybe he could have? He could have not come at all. He could have just locked the door behind me while I died outside, but as far as I'm concerned I was nothing to him and it was his appearance he was trying to save. It was never about ME, it was always about HIM. I had small moments of consciousness like being carried to the emergency room by his one good brother Q, being put in the wheelchair, getting my 20+ staples, seeing X & Q standing in the hallway, X looking and smelling like he was going to a formal event.... X never visited or called me in recovery/rehab, and his reasons for why were lies. I called him to see if he was coming, and he always said he would, but never did and had the cleverest of excuses which were validated as lies by S. I went to therapy and rehab and never admitted to being repeatedly raped, or abused. I didn't want to get him in trouble, nor did I want to get involved with the police, court, or with any of the other miserable people who had done similar things to me. I knew that If I caused problems, especially legal problems which would compromise their business and a dozen other things, I knew that they'd come after me. I blocked his number and cut as many ties as I could conceive and one day he called me from a number I didn't recognize. He wanted me back. He was making a grand gesture again for change that we could be happy and promising all the things I wanted to hear. However, enough was enough, and I said no. I said no and when he persisted I reinforced my no, with REASONS! I wasn't helpless anymore. I was done, I was out, and in my own little way I had won. in rehab and therapy I didn't want to confess or share my abusive truths because I wanted to escape the pain, block it out, pretend it never happened, and I couldn't do that if I ever saw them again, especially a court hearing or someone coming after me because X was in jail etc. Many of my exes were incredibly physical while others were strictly verbal and emotional and I didn't have a clue on how to get better. I just went into rehab as a depressed teenager who had a lousy home life, low self esteem, particularly bad relationship and break up, self harmed, and opted for suicide. My brain did a miraculously terribly thing which was block out all my traumatic events. Miraculous because there were times after my safety plan was made and I was released from the hospital's rehab facility that I was normal. I didn't have that darkness haunting or plaguing me. However, it created abrupt triggers when my brain made connections to real life and my barricaded memories, like it dug under the wall and leaked it out. Because of it, I get the worst PTSD episodes and I am back in the moments where I am not safe. I'm starting to master not suppressing, and learning not to be overwhelmed, but let's be real here, it still happens more than I'd like to admit. This caused me problems in my marriage which is now over - which is an entirely different can of worms as he was very mentally controlling and abusive - thank goodness and am now in the arms of the sweetest, most gentle man who is my best friend, know no bounds of building me up, making sure I know I'm his top priority, understands why I may react in strange ways, knows my pain and why I am the way I am - and I could never be more grateful for the love, and compassion he gives me without guile or expectancy. Dear reader, Just because hell was your romping ground doesn't mean you can't find your way to heaven. There is hope even when there is none and if you look you will always be able to find it. Dark times and hard times can make for a beautifully strong, unstoppable, unyielding spirit and mind. I am still healing, but I'm in a safe place, and SO much more of a person than I was. What once was a whisper is now a shout and the times that ensnared me made me who I am now. I can stand up for myself, I know my worth, I know more aspects of myself. I am weak no longer. I came out strong and I conquered. You can conquer too. I needed help, but ulitimately it was up to me to make decisions towards a better destination. Only I could save myself. I am my own hero.
  6. I was two years old when it all started. My Mom had just given birth to my very sick baby sister. Dad was stressed out. and i was the relief. I blame myself as most others do. and now that I'm finally an adult, I'm pressing charges.
  7. So Hello, I am new, I am hopeful, I am MrPep. I feel like our cruise ship capsized and I finally washed up on this Island. I'm looking for My spouse I know she is around here somewhere. I am looking at all these new faces, what's interesting is I know every single one of you, I love you all and I feel at peace for once. Thank you for having me.
  8. 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.
  9. I started the recovery process almost 25 years ago and rarely think about having been sexually abused. Twenty years ago, I wrote a book about recovering from sexual abuse but couldn't find a publisher. After retiring, I brought my manuscript out, revised and expanded it and got it published earlier this month. I want to help others recover and give them hope when they are going through the pain and suffering of the recovery process. I look forward to getting to know others here and providing support.
  10. VintageCrayon

    Immitating Peace

    Nature's warm candlelight glows and reflects Off her beautiful gown of solid white, Illuminating her dark empty space, Resulting in peaceful short-term delight. Sitting thoughtfully beside my window, I try to mimic this inspiration. Dressed in white - with a candle in my hand, I recreate peace by imitation...
  11. The moon is spilling through the window pane Its tranquil beauty capturing my eyes Illuminating the navy blue skies Revealing silhouettes the world contains Moonlight and shadows spill across my face While an orchestra outside fills my ears Crickets' lullabies are heard loud and clear Their peaceful music filling empty space As the moon is spilling through the window I gaze upon its surface dimly lit Wond'ring if a loved one also sees it Such a thought sets my heart and smile aglow The moon is spilling through the window pane Inspiring hope that cannot be restrained
  12. My baby sister, she's my love She's the butter to my bread, But she has a learning disabiliity That she shall never be rid of Though she's phsyically mature, Her mind is somewhat behind. Yet a sweeter soul you'll not find, Of that statement I'm quite sure And on one horrid fateful night, The police came to our house. They took away her dad - mom's spouse, And this gave her quite a fright He did not return from work next day, And naturally she wondered why, "Daddy is sick" was our reply - So she dropped to her knees to pray She begged God to make him better, And as she bargained with the ceiling, My heart had a very strong feeling: That image would stay with me forever...
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