I am sorry it has been so long since I have posted. I know some of you may have even forgotten about this little blog of mine. Yesterday was 19 years since the first time that I was raped. This year I had to take my hubby to the airport up in Indy so that he could go visit with his family in Georgia. This year I came back home and went back to sleep for a while and then got up and started cleaning house (as best I could with my back injury, which I will tell you all about soon). I had some friends come over and they kept me company. One friend came over and helped me clean…then the others came over and we had a girls’ night and we talked and made Vision/Inspiration boards and we had a good time and I did not feel sad or helpless or lost once. THIS year, I won.
And they are not pretty. When I was a small child my mother and father were together. From the stories I have been told, he beat on her a lot. I was far to young to ever remember something like that. But I have it on good authority that he is an abusive man and an alcoholic. I do not doubt that she suffered a great deal at his hands.
Some background for any of you that don’t know these things about me: I am a middle child. I have an older sister and a younger brother. We all three have different fathers. When I was about 6 my stepdad adopted me.
I have come to realize as I have gotten older that the only reason that this happened was so that my father would not access to me and would not make my mother and sister scared anymore. It is possibly so that he would not hurt me like he hurt them, but I don’t know. I have to assume that they did what they thought was in my best interests.
When I was 5 my brother was born. My sister is 8 years older than I am. Mom and Dad went out a lot and left my sister in charge. Would have been great except that my sister resented me for having been born and making her not be the only child anymore and she resented me for being “his” daughter and the reason mom kept him in our lives for so long. She told me once when she was 16 or so that she really hated me when I was born. People say that sticks and stones can’t hurt you but these words play back in a person’s mind and they do something horrible to the soul.
As I was growing up my mother would use my father as a threat. If I did not go along with what she wanted me to do or act how she wanted me to act then she would threaten to make me go live with him. From the horrible things that I was told about him, I did not want that.
My sister and her Daddy were always very close. My brother was the son my mother had always wanted. I was the middle child and all I had was my mother. I was not my dad’s child by blood…just the one that he had to take ownership of. Of course, I am sure, he resented me for that. So here I was this middle child with no one in this world to intervene for me but my mother.
About the time that I was 8 or 9 is when it started. My sister moved out and moved in to live with her Daddy. Mom and my sister had some really bad arguments but mom never beat on her. My sister had a Daddy she could count on and who would defend her. My brother was only like 3 or 4 so he couldn’t possibly do anything to warrant a beating. But I could. I was the daughter of the bastard who beat on her and no one could or would stop her from beating on me. Belts, paint stir sticks, hands….whatever was handy. It started and was worst when I would bring home bad grades. Looking back now, I am absolutely certain that I had some form of learning disability or even possibly have Asperger’s Syndrome, but she never cared enough to try to figure out what was going on, just the “what the hell is wrong with you?” and the beatings. She would even tell me sometimes that somethings I did reminded her of Chuck (my biological father) and when I did those things she just wanted to kill me. My mother told me she wanted to kill me. I was just a child. Sticks and stones DO hurt. And they replay over and over inside of a person’s soul.
When I was 13 we move to Cincinnati. It got worse when we lived there. It got much worse. When I was 14 there was an incident where my mother’s cousin was coming to visit and my mother got angry with me for eating the last honey bun. I had not, but she called me a liar and beat me with her belt. She left welts and bruises up and down my legs. She will swear to this day that I over exaggerated it and that this did not happen how I said it did, but she lies. She doesn’t actually lie, but stretches it so far that she might as well lie.
She was always angry with me. There would be brief periods of time when I would feel like we were finally going to get along and that she would protect me, but then she would turn on me again. Almost as if she got off on the bait and switch she was playing with me. When I was in 6th grade “dad” called me a bitch because I had teased my hair up and had it in the current style. We were going to the father/daughter dance and I was getting ready. She defended me on this. Then she never did again. There were so many times he would call me that name under his breath and she would say it did not count if it was under his breath.
When she beat me that time about the hunny bun, I wore shorts to school. The school called CPS on her but they did nothing to protect me. I went home with a friend because I was scared to go home. I was terrified she would play the perfect mother and call me a liar and they would let her off the hook, so I ran away. Well they found me and CPS did let them off the hook and they chose to make my life worse because of this.
From that point on I had to hear her tell me how I called CPS on her and that I was not abused….that those kids whose parents do things like burn or scald them or cut on them or all of these other horrible things, those were the ones that were abused. She would tell me I had it so great compared to them and I needed to appreciate it.
We moved back to Indiana when I was 15. We moved to Terre Haute which is where we lived when my boyfriend at the time raped me. My mother walked in on that and did not even consider that it could have been anything other than her no good worthless daughter being a whore. And she treated me accordingly.
There is a pattern of abuse throughout my life but she refuses to acknowledge that she has ever done anything to harm or hurt me. It is very possible that I have Asperger’s or some other condition. Whether this condition is something that is genetic like Asperger’s or something that is resultant of her abuse of me, I don’t know. I do know that I have PTSD. I have a severe case of PTSD from the abuse, the rapes and the miscarriages. I have a pattern of letting people be mean to me because I am afraid. Not because they scare me but I am so conditioned to be afraid.
She stole my son from me when he was just over a year old. She was pushing me and I sent him to his father’s for the night so that I could have the night to figure things out. I went to my best friend’s house and my mother showed up there with her best friend and my sister and told me to get my “shit” out of my car, which was in her name (another control mechanism she used on me) and left me on my best friend’s doorstep telling her that I was her problem now. She stranded me and got his father to bring him to her and then never let me have him back. In effect, she kidnapped my son. I was so terrified of her that I could not fight even though it was tearing my heart out.
I had lost my job and I had lost my apartment and when I needed my mother to help me, she cast me to the wolves and took the one thing that meant anything to me. I want to hate her. I want to cut her out of my life, but here is the thing….even though I know that I am much better than that and I KNOW I do not need her approval or even really want it, I still long for her love. It makes me so very sad because I know that she will never love me. She will always punish me for the blood that runs in my veins. She takes that tone with me and I feel how much she doesn’t care. I feel her lack of love. She can say I love you and make you very aware that she does not in the same breath. These are the hurts that I carry in my soul. These are the things I have in my mind when I lay down to try to go to sleep at night. I am so tired of feeling so very worthless and unloveable. And I am tired of no one listening to me or believing me that she did these things to me.
I told my sister recently and she did not even believe me. My mother has the family so convinced that I am a drama queen that no one will even listen to me, much less take me seriously. I have realized that my mother is an evil person. I just don’t know how to fight her and her money and lawyers. But I will say that the day my son turns 18 and is graduated from school I will tell her everything that I have held back.
This year I had scheduled to take today off of work. Unfortunately I ended up missing two days of work for being sick and was not able to take the day off because we were really busy here at work. Today I have been trying very hard not to feel this feeling and these feelings. Today I have tried very very hard not to let the past ruin the day and not to let myself see that day again over and over again in my head.
See the thing is, even though it has been 18 years today, I can still remember exactly what I was wearing, what we had for dinner, all of the events leading up to and following what happened. And I cannot shake it.
Today I am listening to Tori Amos and knowing that I am not alone. I am trying very hard to not cry today. Today is really hard for me.
I am sorry to everyone for not being here and for not posting like I had intended. I have been having a hard time with this day coming and now with it being here and I really think that I can go back to being better after this.
Silent All These Years makes me think of my childhood….and what happened….and those feelings I cannot shake….
Well I am glad that you asked. I am actually feeling pretty good. I am sorry I have not posted a lot lately. Things have been CRAZY busy. The month of October usually is. I finally finished my son’s blanket (which is fracking awesome!). I have started saying Frack a lot instead of Fuck in an effort to curb the cursing. I have gotten put on new medications which will hopefully take care of my lower regions medical woes and get me back to feeling better. I am going onto a new med which should facilitate weight loss (YAY!) and the world seems to be looking up.
I have been doing a lot of house cleaning the past few days. I spent 4 hours on laundry last night folding, hanging up, putting away, washing, drying….blah. I have been doing dishes more regularly and making myself be up and moving around cooking and whatnot when I get home so that I don’t get as stiff.
I am still looking to start that support group. Any ideas on flyers or posters? I am going to a retreat with my hubby next month for survivors (our anniversary weekend) and am hoping to get some good information there.
I did miss my cultural sensitivity training from INCASA. I had to go to the dentist. Actually, the first time in 13 years. Pretty good though. Only 3 cavities. I knew I had periodontal disease but we are getting that treated and working towards keeping my teeth in my mouth where they belong. So far so good. I am glad I finally decided to go. I don’t know why I was so scared to.
Anyways, I am going to try to get on here more to post about relevant topics to this blog. I just wanted you to all know that I did not forget about you. I appreciate each and every one of you. I keep getting more and more subscribers and followers on twitter. I feel blessed to be doing something that can help make a difference, even if only to one person.
Please give me ideas for posts. If you would like to see me write about something, let me know. You can either leave it in a comment here or email it to me at firstname.lastname@example.org and I will try to write about every topic I get. I will also give credit to the requestor.
Thank you all for reading my blog. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for letting me be there for you.
Love and light,
P.S. I have recently realized that somehow after all that has come before in my life, my rose colored glasses do seem to be pretty much still intact. Some small cracks and some days I cannot find them, but for the most part I win.
Dear Sweet Little Girl,
I know that you are hurting inside. You feel like everything you thought was a lie and no one cares about you. You feel like that boy that promised you forever…the one you should not have gone out with and should not have given yourself to… has turned the whole world against you. I want you to know that you are not alone. I want you to know that you will grow up and yes, you will face hardships, but you are going to be ok. I wish that I could go back in time and hold you like you wished mom would have done. I wish that I could make it ok for you to tell her what she witnessed instead of letting her think that it was what you wanted too. If they ever invent a time machine I will do that, but for now I can just tell you that I love you and that it is ok to cry. It is ok to feel let down by all of those who you trusted to protect you and who didn’t. Know that you will meet someone who will make you feel ok again. He will make you feel loved and he will guard your heart. He will not be your forever but he will help you grow through this. He will help you through much sadness and teach you about joy again. You will meet good and bad people along the way. Know that there is a reason in everything. Do not ever let them steal your light and your life. Know that I am here for you and I love you. I love you because I am you. Looking back at you I wish that I could have done better for you when I was there. All I can do for now is tell you that I know you and I know your heartbreak and I will never let you down again.
Love and light,
Your 33 year old self
So my husband and I were awakened today by my son knocking on the door to tell us he didn’t feel good. My husband had the idea that my son should drink a glass of milk and take a hot bath. What the hell??? A child that is sick does not need milk which can curdle in their stomach and does not need a “hot bath” when they are already running a fever. I gave him some ibuprofen and asked my husband to get him some sprite. So instead of getting a 2ltr of sprite he goes to hardee’s and gets breakfast and gets him a large sprite…like this is going to be enough for the poor kid who is sick.
After he comes home, said kid gets to feeling somewhat better and plays video games for a while so husband reiterates that a hot bath may be a good idea. I said no but kiddo listened to his step dad because after all what does mama know, right? Well kid takes hot bath and gets so nauseous this time he throws up. Throws up after just taking ibuprofen so do not know if he got any of the medicine or not….can’t give him more…now my mother, which has custody of my kiddo calls and is told how my husband told him to drink milk and take a hot bath and she is in an uproar and wanting to come get him now and making me feel like I don’t know what the hell I am doing about being a mom and taking care of my sick kid….
Oh I forgot to mention that during all of this I had bought stuff yesterday to make my husband a caramel apple pie and so I was looking up the recipe and since I did not know the recipe off the top of my head like some kind of baking genius, and actually had to look up a recipe, then I was told I didn’t know what I was doing with that and if I had to look up the pie recipe he might as well do it himself. Then he had the nerve to tell me how if I wanted to do something nice for someone I should ask them what they want instead of just assuming. This is the manipulative shit he pulls on me when I am trying to do something nice and he makes me feel like shit for it. Tells me if I had just asked him what he wanted then I would not have been so disappointed when he didn’t want what I was doing. I didn’t ask him because I was going to surprise him with this beautiful caramel apple pie that he said was his favorite type of pie and that he had been asking for for a few years but I had not had the time or motivation to make it for him before. So I was trying to make this as a surprise for him and he shits all over it and then tells me how it is my fault that he did that because I didn’t ask him first. What kind of abusive manipulative shit is that?????? And the worst part is that he doesn’t even realize he is abusing me with this talk and this attitude. He thinks that his behavior and his saying these things is helpful to me. I do not know how someone can be so far off the mark as to think that this is helpful. How can he not see that he is being very hurtful and mentally abusive to me???? How can he not see that???? And the bad part is that he is going to read this and then he is going to get all sullen and then he is going to make me feel bad for feeling this way and then he will do the same thing all over again. This is mental cruelty that he is doing and he refuses to see it.
Oh and did I mention that this is all going on while I am trying to take care of my sick kid that has a temperature over 101? My kid is sick and now getting upset that his mom is being talked to this way and his step dad is being hurtful and emotionally harmful to his mom while he is trying to not throw up….and I am trying not to do anything more to make my kid feel worse…trying to help him feel better and getting berated for trying to do something nice. Being bullied because I did not have a memorized recipe and I didn’t ASK HIM before I bought the stuff to make him something he said was his favorite dessert. Like I have to ASK HIM if I want to surprise him with anything.
My therapist told me that I should do things to make my husband feel special and less insecure and be more intimate with him. I told him that and then came home to him thinking about all the ways that I can make him feel good….not about how he can make me feel good in return but how I can make him feel good. As if he hadn’t had enough selfish tendencies when it comes to having sex anyways. Now it comes back full circle to me actually trying to open back up to him after all these months of trying to let go of him being so selfish in the beginning and get back to being giving like I had always been before and he is going right back to the selfishness.
It went really well. She thinks that I may be a bit manic…I just hope that is not followed by a depressive state. Right now I have a ton of projects going on.
1. Working on getting the info for the support group to get that started.
2. Working on this blog.
3. Getting involved with INCASA
4. Possibly getting involved with RAINN.
5. Looking for a writing group here in town and if I cannot find one, going to start one.
6. Looking into starting a writing group.
8. Being a wife.
9. Being a mom.
10. Crocheting a blanket for my wonderful teenage son. It is Xbox green, white and black striped.
11. Knitting a beautiful scarf for my lovely friend Emi.
12. Working on knitting a shawl for the daughter of the worlds coolest boss….my boss 🙂
14. Working on making my husband feel loved and nurtured even though sometimes I cannot be physical.
15. Art projects.
17.Trying to work on a new song that I have not told Hubby about yet because it is kind of for him.
So as you can see I have a lot going on and I don’t know where I am finding the time to do it all. Sometimes it feels like I am doing so much that nothing gets done. Sometimes it feels like I am so over committed that I cannot breathe. My husband thinks that I do this to keep from having to deal with things. Maybe he is right, but a lot of this I am doing so that I can deal with things. Never ending cycle I guess. I am working on it though. Trying to stay positive and remain happy. The world is my canvas…I will paint it to be what I want it to be….I will bend it to my will and it will be mine 🙂
Love and Light!
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.
My husband has had many questions for me about the past and about recovery. He has never been sexually assaulted and I am very thankful that he does not have the ability to understand what I have been through.
Sometimes he does take things too far. Case in point: I posted the Rapist Checklist. He read it. He then sat around glum and upset for hours. I finally got him to tell me that the reason he was upset was that he felt like a rapist after reading that. He told me that he did not feel like he could talk to me about sex. He told me that he did not agree with many of the things that are listed in that checklist.
I did explain to him that he can always talk to me about his feelings and about sex. I had to explain to him that asking me for sex was not the same as pressuring. I had to explain to him that by pressure, it means coercion. Coercion is rape. When someone says no and you coerce them by wearing them down and possibly using physical means to threaten and coerce them, then you are committing rape. When you are laying in bed with your wife and you are snuggling and rubbing on her leg with consent and ask her once and she says she is not really in the mood and then in the same loving way ask again later, it is not rape. It is hard to define that line for him. It is hard to define that line for me. Sometimes I have flashbacks at times when he is being loving and gentle and it blurs that for me. I try really hard not to let that happen.
As an affirmation for me, and for him, I have to tell you this. My husband is a kind, gentle and loving man. He would never strike me in anger and he would never force me to do something I do not want to do. Sometimes he can be persistent but not to the point of coercion and when I say “No” firmly he knows I mean “No” and he takes it at face value.
I feel very lucky to have him. Having been through the things that I have been through, I don’t know how he puts up with me. I have so many hang ups and so many issues. I try really hard not to let them get the best of me. I try really hard not to let the flashbacks and the triggers ruin our sex life (even though sometimes it seems like we don’t have much of one because I am always in pain…) He is supportive even when it makes him uncomfortable. He supports my upcoming work with INCASA. He supports my working with the blog and with the therapist. He wants to learn more and more so he can help too. I love my husband. I love my life with my husband. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to help me through all of this.
You know how you sometimes reach a point where you know that something transitional is happening? Where you feel like something big is coming that will make it all worth it? Like you just KNOW that everything will be ok all of the sudden?
I am at one of those places. I don’t know how I got here….I think that writing this blog and getting/giving support has been a major part of it. I think that starting counseling has been part of it too. I also think that contacting INCASA and looking to get involved there is going to be a big part of it too.
I don’t know exactly what is going to happen but I know that it is going to be great. I have this feeling that I am just waiting for this amazing thing to happen.