Delving deeper into the past….When you meet a wolf in sheep’s clothing, how do you know?


Recently I have been given the opportunity to help someone who is going to be giving a talk to forensics students.  She will be giving them information on how forensics is so very important in real life.  I offered to share my story with her.  In doing so, I made an offer to delve deeper into the way that a 15 year old girl went from virgin and trusting to dating and being molested against her will to ultimately giving this boy her virginity and then finally being raped by this boy who she thought loved her.  This is going to be a very emotional post.  I apologize ahead of time if any of this doesn’t make sense.  I am going to do the very best I can to keep it together and give it a good flow.

When I was 15 we moved to Terre Haute, Indiana from Cincinnati, Ohio.  I was going into my sophomore year at a new school and was worried about not knowing anyone and being the “odd girl out”.  I had never really had a lot of friends.  I was kind of the girl that everyone picked on for a long time.  When school started I was pleasantly surprised to find myself in the center of a group of friends that had known each other for a very long time.  They accepted me in and made me one of them.  Things seemed to be going wonderfully.  That fall I was dating this guy…this really sweet, nice, good looking and semi rich guy.  He was so great but I did not have a “spark” with him.  While I was going out with him, another guy asked me out.  This guy smoked, listened to rock, was a real bad ass.  I, of course, dumped the nice guy for the bad boy.

The bad boy was risky.  He was dangerous.  He was from a poorer family.  My family was reasonably well to do.  We dated for a while.  I remember going to the bowling alley where my parents were on a league.  I remember him sitting behind me as I did my homework.  I remember him putting his hands up my shirt and me pushing him off and him doing it again.  I remember asking him repeatedly to stop.  I remember him trying to put his hands down my pants. I remember the guy at the library who saw and instead of helping me, he just leered lewdly and I couldn’t make the boyfriend stop it.  I remember him telling me how he just loved me so much that he couldn’t keep his hands off of me.  When you are 15 and some guy tells you how much he loves you, you do not think to question it.  You do not think that there is possibly another reason for him to say it.  I was learning how to be a woman but I didn’t even really know what that meant.  We went out for a while.  I can’t even remember how long it was.  I do remember that my brother asked us to come in his room and I couldn’t get him to leave me alone.  My brother left the room and when he came back in my boyfriend had his hands down my pants.  I was trying to get him to stop but he wouldn’t.  My brother still gives me hell about this even 18 years later.  He makes me out to be some kind of wanton whore.  He was too little.  He didn’t know what was going on and I couldn’t make my boyfriend stop.  I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t have anyone to tell me that this was wrong.  I didn’t have anyone that I could talk to without judgment.

At Christmas that year he asked me to marry him.  I thought for sure that I knew that this was the man that I was going to be spending the rest of my life with.  In January that year my parents were going to a concert and I agreed to let him come over.  We had decided that that was going to be THE night.  It was over before it started.  I barely felt anything at all and he did not bother trying to make me feel good.  A few weeks later we did it again and it was just as bad.  I thought that I would not ever like sex because it really wasn’t as great as people made it out to be.  Then that fateful night happened.

February 16th.  His 16th birthday.  We went out to dinner with his parents and a few of our friends.  My mom had made a cake for him for his birthday.  We got back to my house and he and I went upstairs to watch TV in my room.  We were watching TV and he asked me if we could have sex.  I said no.  My family was home and I couldn’t take that chance.  I told him that I really did not want to.  I told him that if we close the door mom and dad will get mad.  I do not remember how it happened but somehow he ended up on top of me on the floor on the opposite side of my bed from the door.  My mom walked in and thought that we were just having sex.  I didn’t know how to tell her that it was not what it seemed like.  I did not know how to tell her that I did not want to have sex but he made me do it.  Then she called me a whore, a slut, a bitch….pretty much everything but a white girl.  Making me feel like I was worthless.  Making me know that I was nothing.

After this happened I went to school the next day and I told our friends what had happened. The bad thing is that they were OUR friends.  Exactly 2 of them believed me.  Out of a large group only 2 believed me.  This made me feel even worse.  I was to the point where I was seriously considering the fact that the world would be a much better place without me.  I never reported what happened.  I did not believe that anyone would believe me.  I didn’t know if I even believed me.

There was a friend who did help me out and did make me feel better and showed me that I was worthy and I was worth more than what I believed.  This friend, who ended up being my boyfriend for almost 2 years , saved my life.  He was there for me when I lost the baby that resulted from the rape.  He taught me how to accept physical love again.  We did not end up being together for life but I do have him to thank for saving my life and I am grateful.

I will write more later.  I am too emotional to continue writing right now.  Love and light to you all.

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About wtfhappenedtomyreallife

I am a wife, mother, daughter, sister, cousin, granddaughter, neice, friend, confidant and I am ready to speak my mind.

Posted on August 23, 2011, in Counseling, Rape, sexual assault, Therapy, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. Some parts of this are very telling, and speak to the great danger young women are put in by not providing proper sex education. I’m not even talking about safe sex here, though of course that is an important part of it. I’m talking about, “I didn’t have anyone to tell me that this was wrong.” Without talking about sex to kids, without explaining what is right and what is most definitely wrong, they won’t have the confidence to say no. Because as you point out in some of your other posts, so much of rape isn’t the knife to your throat kind, its the slow, steady coercion undermining self esteem and self worth until you can’t fight anymore. If there is anything I’ve learnt over the years, it’s that KNOWING that you’re right is a very powerful thing.

    The other piece is, “I didn’t have anyone that I could talk to without judgment.” Now your mother flipping out at you in the heat of the moment is moderately understandable (we all loose it sometimes, though the demeaning name calling is not cool) but how you tell it makes me wonder. Did ALL of the blame land on you, or did your boyfriend get an equal measure? And then there is the final piece, that after she had calmed down she didn’t talk to you in peace and find out what really happened. That she didn’t listen to you and help you. That she didn’t press you to tell her the terrible truth that you so desperately needed to share. Part of being a parent is being strong enough to accept that your older children will be doing adult things, but will need help and support dealing with them. I’ve met parents who just don’t want to know, and their children suffer terribly as a result.

    I don’t write this to judge your mother or anyone else’s. I write it to affirm the strength that I’ll need as a parent when my child begins to encounter the adult world.

    • Unfortunately it was not my parents’ place to shift any of the blame to him and so it never was. My mother has always been one of those “I don’t care who is right or wrong, I just want peace and quiet” kind of moms. She wanted to bury her head in the sand and forget it….that is until I do something that she doesn’t approve of or I try to be cautious about things with my son…then she brings it up like she is throwing it in my face. I have warned her several times in the past not to go there…but she does. She will tell me “you don’t want to go there” when she wants to drive a point home about how I have bad judgment even today.

      I have never had the courage to tell her that this was not consent. That this was not willingness. This was rape. I wish that I had the guts to tell her that. She does know that my first husband raped me. She knows about one of the others too. I wrote her a big long letter a few years ago and sent it to her via email because it was where I felt safe to do so. She never responded or even acted like she cared.

      You are right that it is the children who suffer. I really wish that instead of telling me how horrible I was and treating me like I was less than nothing, that she would have talked to me. I think that was the beginning of the end of our relationship. To this day it is still not a good relationship even if it does have some very good moments now and then.

      • I am so sorry this happened to you and that your mom wasn’t more compassionate. I was 15 also and a virgin. I didn’t tell anyone for five years. My parents never knew until I wrote a college paper and my mom cried and asked if that happened to me. She knew that something had drastically changed inside me after my rape. This is why I am so empathetic and angry about all the abuse that goes on in this world! We have to stand together and support each other. Thanks for your support and you certainly have mine. I will be sharing my story in detail soon so keep up with me as I will you! Much love!

      • Thank you so much. I am sorry that you have gone through that too. I still have not had the courage to tell my mother what it really was that she had walked in on. I don’t know if she would be able to handle that. Someday I might though….Maybe.

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