Our Lady Of Peace, Here I Come - Psychiatric Residential Treatment Facility

Okay, so I am getting ready to drop a bombshell on my dad in the morning.

I have no idea how this is going to play out or how the best way to bring this up will be, but I think I am to the point that it is needed. I have been looking up in patient care geared toward suicide prevention. In the area I live we just happen to have one called Our Lady Of Peace. They have a special Psychiatric Residential Treatment Facility that is geared toward 12 -17 year olds that are suffering from extreme depression and thoughts of self harm and suicide. Many of these treatments specialize in dealing with the aftereffects of sexual assault and P.T.S.D. related issues.

I need to tell dad that I need something more than regular therapy. I know the state I am in and if I don't find some sort of aggressive treatment I am going to do something stupid. I can't get these thoughts out of my head. I have to tell dad I need help and I have to make him hear me, he has to really hear me. How do I do that?

I have two voices in my head and I have a very quiet referee name rationality. This referee has questionable judgment and the voices are beginning to ignore the referee. One voice is telling me that I am never going to be okay and death is so much easier; death will end the pain. The other voice is telling me that I can survive all of this and it can get better. Neither voice is telling me what I need to hear, neither voice is telling me that I deserve happiness or that I deserve to live. The referee thinks I deserve happiness and life, but the referee can't talk through the duct tape that has been wrapped around her mouth over and over and her hands are tied behind her back just like they were in the van.

I can make it till morning when dad gets up, I know I can; but after that I have to get real help. I just have to figure out how to make dad understand. If I can't convince him easily I won't have the will to be convincing. I am losing my mind, I am going crazy and I am so fucking scared. I have all these images in my mind that won't go away. I have all these flashbacks that won't go away. I just want them to stop, I am so tired. I can't think anymore. I can make it till dad gets up in the morning, I know I can.

You must be asking why does Jaime think she's going crazy. Well Jaime did something today that she is ashamed of. She masturbated until she bled and it was the pain that pushed her over the edge so that she could feel that 30 second long rush of endorphins that made her cry. She cried while sitting in the bathtub as the shower washed the blood away. She wished the hot water that was full on with the cold water completely off could have melted her into nothingness and washed her down the drain. She had images of her being in pain going through her mind when she felt that intense rush of endorphins. She feels so ashamed. Even as she writes this she can feel herself detach from reality and she fears she will lose herself in the madness of her own mind. She didn't even really notice that she was narrating her own words in third person until this sentence. This is why I think I am going insane. I'm not even kidding about any of this. I thought I was messed up before when while being assaulted for hour after hour I was made to have an orgasm when he purposefully stimulated me. That's bad enough but it was a physical reaction, I know that. Why did I not think about a tender sexual experience when I masturbated in the shower instead of being in that van? It's weird and surreal to say but the thought of the pain he put me through and the pain from my own finger making me bleed made this so much stronger. That's insane, that's weird, and that's wrong on so many levels.

I got it, I will email this to dad's business email account. He always checks that first thing in the morning. I will be okay until he gets up and he can take me to Our Lady Of Peace. Hell, I even checked our health Insurance plan and up to 90 days a year of emergency in patient care is covered. There was a dollar limit on that but I imagine I will need near 90 days worth of care. I mean I don't think I am sociopath crazy, not yet anyway. He will be awake in less than 5 hours. I can make it to then because I think I could make it a few days if I had to. I will email him this and then post it on my blog and then on A.S.

Random Rant Of The Day 2

I am reasonably certain that I am going to grow up a bitter and sad person. I stopped liking this time of year at 12 or 13, and I began to dislike it last year after my mom died. This year I actually hate Christmas. I hate it for the fact that mom is no longer here. I hate it for the fact that the spirit of Christmas has been so easily stolen even though it shouldn't be so easy. I hate, I hate, I hate, but most of all I hate myself. Maybe "Hate" myself is too strong of a word. I dislike me. Time for me to go join the rest of the family and put on a mask.

A Hollow Victory

Less than two days ago the guy who raped me was sent to prison for a minimum of 27 years. That's at least 27 years where I know I will not need to worry about him. Anyway you cut it, 27 years is a long time and a justified punishment for the things he did. I have even found out several weeks ago that there were other girls that had since come forward with accusations of sexual assault by the same guy who raped me. I can't get into the entire nature of their accusations because I honestly don't have all of the details. However I do know that at least one additional charge has been filed. I think at this point it is safe to assume that the 27 year sentence that he is currently serving could potentially have some more time tacked onto it as the result of other charges.

This morning he was moved from the jail he was housed in during all of this court stuff to a more permanent housing facility. This brings me to a quandary of sorts in how I think I should feel verses the way I think I feel. I say think because as I write this post I am still trying to understand the way I feel. A big part of me was really hoping that him being sentenced and me talking in front of the entire courtroom about the things he did to me would somehow create closure for me, but it didn't. I don't understand why. If my story would have been someone else's story I would have been telling them how brave they are and how proud I am for what they did. I would have told them that they are a hero, but when I look at myself through my eyes I don't see anything heroic. I would tell anyone else that had a similar outcome that they were victorious over their adversary, but my victory feels hollow. I don't understand why it would feel that way.

I had this idea or maybe it was an assumption that after he was sentenced that his punishment would become real and I would feel vindicated. When he was first sentenced I was mentally trying to decipher the sentence because people in courtrooms seldom seem to talk in plain English. All these numbers were thrown into the air and I was just trying to grasp them on an intellectual level so that I could understand what they meant. Once I understood the numbers I was relieved and I sort of felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of my chest and I could finally breath. I felt safer than I had felt since before any of this happened. Unfortunately most of these euphoric feelings had passed within 12 hours of him being sentenced, and I found myself feeling like I needed to put on a show and a happy smile for everyone around me.

I was so tired after I got home from court because of the lack of sleep that I have had over the last few days. Really the lack of sleep has been since this happened. I come home from court with my eyes so tired that they felt like they had gravel in them. I thought for sure that I was going to be able to lie down and fall to sleep with a peaceful demeanor about me, but instead I lay down in bed and cried. Why did I cry? Why am I still crying? I should be happy that he is tucked away safe from society where he can't hurt anymore innocent people. Don't misunderstand me; I am glad he is in prison. I was hoping I would feel a sense of freedom because his sentence is being served, but I don't feel free; I feel like I am in prison. I feel trapped within myself and I don't know how to find the exit. I am trying so had to find this exit but I can't and it's driving me crazy. I feel like I am crazy.

I am scared that I will not be able to know who I can trust in the future. If I can't gain some sort of confidence in myself to make a wise choice to trust or not to trust, how can I ever become something more than this emotional wreck who keeps herself shielded in the presumed comfort and safety of these four walls? For example - I live in a relatively safe neighborhood, and often I have to walk a mile to and from work because of my schedule and the fact that I don't yet have a car. This morning was one of those mornings and as I was walking to work I heard someone coming up on foot behind me. I turned my head a little to see how far back they were and I saw that is was a guy running toward me. I walked faster being that my friend's mom and dad's house was a few doors up. As I heard the footsteps getting close I realized that he would reach me before I got to their house so I ran. I sprinted as fast as I could and banged on their door while I was yelling for someone to let me in. As they opened the door the guy who was running ran by the house and I saw that he had a jogging suit on and he was simply out getting a morning run in for exercise. It was a little difficult and embarrassing to try and explain to my friend's dad why I was shaking and had tears running down my face. I don't feel free and I really don't feel safe. I know I am safe from the guy that raped me, but I see danger everywhere. I honestly wonder if today, tonight, this evening, or this afternoon will be the day I am abducted and raped again. I also feel like I know that it will happen again, but this time it will be worse. This makes me feel hollowed out and makes this so called judicial victory seem hollow. I hate this feeling. I know I am going crazy, sane and rational people don't think this way.

He Was Sentenced Today

Okay, this is what his sentence is.

The charge of ASSAULT IN THE FIRST DEGREE he received 15 years. By law 85% of sentence has to be served before eligibility for parole. Which comes to 12 years and 9 months.

The charge of RAPE IN THE FIRST DEGREE he received the minimum of 20 years of which 85% of the sentence has to be served before eligibility for parole. Which comes to 17 years.

The sentencing for assault and rape are to be served concurrently. This basically means that he serves these two sentences at the same time. So instead of adding the years it pretty much defaults to the higher number. This means on these two charges he will spend not less than 17 years behind bars.

The charge of ABDUCTION-UNLAWFUL IMPRISONMENT he received 25 years. He will be eligible for parole after only 10 years of that sentence.

However the sentence for abduction is to be served consecutive with the other two. This all breaks down to him having to serve 17 years for raping and torturing me, and then he will start to serve his sentence for abduction which is 25 years.

If he is a model inmate he will spend no less than 27 years in prison before he is eligible for parole.

If he is denied parole he will spend 42 years in prison.

He is 18 years old now and he will not even have a chance to see freedom until he is 45 years old (the year 2038).

If he is consistently denied parole he will be 60 years old upon his release in 2053.

I plan on showing up to all of his parole hearings to make sure he is denied parole.

On a side note:

I have read my statement so many times that I barely even needed to look at the paper in my hand and only had to stop once to collect my thoughts. I left out one sentence on purpose, the sentence where I referred to him as a puppet master. I left that out because as I was reading/reciting it to the court I realized something. He isn't the master of anything not even himself. He is going to be told when to eat, sleep, exercise, and shower for the next several years; that's the actions of a puppet not a master. Also when I got to the part in my statement where I was suppose to say the following,

"I want the court to know that I'm not afraid, but mostly I want the defendant to know that I am not afraid of the word rape anymore; nor am I afraid of him."

I turned toward this deranged person and said this instead.

"I want the court to know that I'm not afraid, but mostly I want the YOU to know that I am not afraid of the word rape anymore; nor am I afraid of YOU."

I am home and I feel safer than I have felt in almost 4 months. I am sleepy and I am going to take a nap. Something tells me that I am going to be able to sleep pretty good.

Random Rant Of The Day

So it is official, I will be starting private school January 9th. I'm not going to mention the name of this school but I will say that it is a Christian based private school. I'm not going to talk bad about this place being that I haven't attended class there yet, but this place from the outside looking in looks like one big Hollywood cliché. At the high school I was attending we did have uniforms but they weren't mandatory. Mostly we just had a dress code. However at this private school their dress code is UNIFORMS. All I can say is good thing I don't mind wearing skirts. I have a gut feeling that this private school will have a morning prayer and a preacher for a principal. Of course I am being sarcastic. I keep imagining church for 7 hours a day with a little bit of "book learning" thrown in. I know that an exaggeration, this school's students have actually scored in the top 1% for the last 7 years so I can reasonably assume that it's a good school. Here's the thing; I'm use to being the nerd in class, and now I will be just a nerd among nerds. Now if I want to stand out I will have to wear red lipstick or red fingernail polish. I'm sure that would get me sent home.

Has anyone ever hyperventilated long enough where you thought you were having a stroke or heart attack? Well I have, and it was this morning while I was rereading my statement to the court. My hands cramped up and my lips puckered. Being that I was the only one at home I almost called 911 since I didn't understand what was going on. Instead I did nothing, with the assumption that if it is my time to kill over, so be it. I am a curious person and while I was waiting to kill over I began to research my symptoms online. I'm not the type of person who would want to die without knowing what I'm dying of. Long story short, by the time I realized I was suffering from low carbon dioxide I had already stopped hyperventilating. Sad part is that a small part of me was disappointed that I was going to make it. LOL

Court is in about 18 hours and I feel like my chest is going to burst open and an alien is going to escape. I hate this waiting that never seems to end. I have been having trouble sleeping and I guess that is reasonably expected. We all have weird dreams and many of us have had dreams where we are in public naked. I have spent the last two nights in court naked. What a way for the powers that be in the universe to give me confidence enough to speak in court. At least in my dream I wasn't the only one who was naked, the judge was naked too. Last time I checked  Regis Philbin wasn't a judge. Why the hell am I dreaming that I am naked in the courtroom and the judge is Regis Philbin who is also naked? WTF is up with that? The weird part is that the guy who hurt me wasn't even in the courtroom in this dream.

I have never been a cutter, burner, scratcher, or any other form of a self-harmer other than having thoughts of suicide. However this morning I had a sharp object in one hand, a mind full of hate and self-blame in the middle, and a arm full of unscarred landscape on the other side and I was about to punish myself for everything that is wrong with the world. I didn't punish myself because somewhere along the lines I realized that I have been through enough pain and purposefully causing myself pain would be a prelude to that monsters victory speech. It is so hard to want to punish ourselves or do self harm to just feel like we are still connected, but why? It's so counter productive and can set us up for a lifetime of unjust suffering. I'm not going to start, (I think) at least not today.

Okay, I'm finished running my pie hole for now.

The Cusp Of Adulthood With A Broken Map

My earliest memory of thinking about what I wanted to be when I grow-up was around age 5 or 6. Mom was working at an animal shelter/hospital and I remember seeing her help animals with their boo boos just like she had helped me when I got my own boo boos. I remember thinking that's what I want to do when I grow-up. Throughout the years I had visions of being a Ríkislögreglan, (Iceland's version of a US Marshall or National Police) doctor, teacher, and more recently a writer, therapist, psychiatrist, and forensic psychologist.

Looking back at these various career aspirations I have noticed a fairly consistent theme; they are valuable to the community, take a lot of dedication, and each of them require that I have my heads on straight  A police-person has to be able to control their emotions so that they can make decisions based on legality as oppose to emotion. A teacher must be able to teach by example and in a clear way so that a child could understand, and be able to leave their personal problems at home. Writing is sort of an exception to this in that emotions will actually help, but unless I was to become well-known author like Stephen King or Dean Koontz it would be a real challenge to make a living. A therapist would benefit from being able to empathize with their clients but yet again a therapist must be able to turn off the emotions in order to let logic and reasoning guide the therapy sessions. A psychiatrist is pretty much a medical doctor and a therapist rolled into one and it requires an even more intense training and emotional control on the part of the psychiatrist. A forensic psychologist requires the same discipline and investigatorial skills as a police-person along with the ability to delve into the thought processes of the criminal mind. The spelunking into the pathology of the often violent and sadistic criminal mind most certainly requires a disconnect of work and personal life.

If I were to put these careers in order of preference, 1 being most preferred and 7 being least preferred; the order would be.

Before my assault:

1 - Doctor
2 - Teacher
3 - Writer
4 - Psychiatrist
5 - Police
6 - Forensic Psychologist
7 - Therapist (physical health)

After my assault (now):

1 - Therapist (emotional health)
2 - Forensic Psychologist
3 - Psychiatrist
4 - Teacher
5 - Writer
6 - Doctor
7 - Police

The weird thing is although my assault hasn't changed my career aspirations, it has re-prioritized them. Here's the problem. How do I get from the emotional wreck that I am now, to someone who is in control over her emotions so that I can reasonably pursue one of these careers? I still have roughly 32 months before I will start college. College life alone will open me up to a huge amount of pier pressure stresses and emotional triggers involving relationships on top of academic pressures and stresses. I also have to heal enough to know that I will be able to handle these jobs before I even go to college or I run the risk of filling my head with 4 or more years of useless information that I will never be able to use in a career. It's like I am standing on the cusp of adulthood with a broken map and not knowing which way to go or how to get their; and even if I do find my way there I don't know how I would be able to handle it all.

It was so clear before and the map in my head was simple. I saw a clear path with very trivial roadblocks, but now this path is covered in broken shards of glass that's itching to carve me into pieces as I attempt to traverse it. How do I get to a point in my healing in a 32 month period of time where I can then make a rational career choice about not what I WANT to do, but what I can do? "CAN" and "WANT" are often vastly different things and I'm so confused about how to bring them together into a coherent entity. I hate this feeling of unsurety that makes me feel like I am walking around blindfolded on stilts in the middle of a minefield. I know it’s just a matter of time before I fall face first on a Claymore.

I Think I Just Helped My Dad Get A Date

Okay, so my little sister is spending the night over a friend's house then dad and I went out to Nana's Country Kitchen for supper. We sit down to eat and we notice that the waitress is a new waitress. Nana's Country Kitchen is a really small restaurant that has a pub side and a restaurant side. Usually they have two waitresses on the restaurant side and one on the pub side. Today it was just the opposite; I guess more people felt like drinking today than usual. Anyway, like I said the waitress on the restaurant side was new and she had never met us. She was very polite and she is quite attractive. Well she came and took our order and dad had his usual country fried steak and I had my usual parmesan chicken. Yes, we are not very adventurous.

While we were waiting for our food we noticed that our waitress kept staring at us, not in a rude way just looking at us. Our waitress and the two working on the pub side were standing around each other and they began to laugh loudly like someone just said a really funny joke. Meanwhile all three of them were looking at us. Dad and I looked at each other searching for something funny about each others hair, clothes, or whatever but we didn't see anything obviously funny about us so we just sort of brushed it off.

I pretended to get up and use the restroom but I was really getting up to see what the humor was all about. As I was walking that direction one of the waitresses that was working on the pub side walked up to me, this waitress happened to be one that has waited on dad and I several times. Keep in mind that where this waitress and I were standing was far enough away that dad couldn't hear us and unless he looked behind him he wouldn't be able to see us. She began to explain to me that the new waitress that was staring at us walked up to the other two waitresses asking them if they thought me and dad was a couple. She said that she was all like, "there's no way that she is old enough to be dating him". As you can imagine that's what spurred the laughter as the other two waitresses explained that dad and I were father and daughter. I asked this waitress to not let the other waitress (our waitress) know that she has let me know what they were laughing about, and instead tell her that we looked uncomfortable that they were laughing while looking at us. Of course she was confused and wondering what I was up to and in reply I just said, "Please play along it will be fun".

I sat back down at the table with my dad and as the waitress was bringing our food out to us I told dad to "just play along". She gave us our food and began to explain what they were laughing at and how she thought we were on a date. She even apologized for laughing. I looked at this waitress with the straightest face I could make and said in a stunned and stern sounding voice, "What do you mean father and daughter? We are husband and wife. What makes you think we are father a daughter"?

You should have seen the look on her face as she tried to explain that she thought we were a couple and then the other waitresses told her that we were father and daughter. The look on her face was priceless and it was that look between wanting to turn and run and cover your face with you hands. That's when my dad said to her, "Don't worry about it, we often confuse people because of the age difference. It is okay though, I got her parents permission before we began to date".

The look on her face was wonderful. LOL I couldn't hold it in anymore and I buuuussted out laughing. Of course the other two waitresses have been listening in on our joke and they were laughing too. Even the poor new waitress laughed once she realized we were playing a joke on her. This waitress was really nice.

While dad and I were eating, he joked around about how mean I am. Dad also said something that I wasn't really expecting, "She's kind of pretty isn't she".

It took me a couple of seconds to realize that dad was talking about the waitress. Don't misunderstand me, this waitress was actually very pretty, it was just the first time I have ever actually consciously realized dad looked at women in terms of being attracted to them. It's like realizing your parents are having sex and that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach that it causes. I ended up suggesting that dad talk to the waitress and get her phone number. He sort of brushed off that notion and changed the subject.

Later on the waitress comes to our table to give dad the bill for the meal. I told her that I was sorry that we played a joke on her and she said it was okay and that it actually made her day. She and I talked for a few minutes and I found out that she wasn't married and she never had been, nor did she have any children. I mentioned to her that my dad was thinking about dating again and she asked how long he has been divorced. "He's not divorced, mom died in a car accident almost 2 years ago".

Dad gave her the money for the meal and she came back to the table with his receipt. She said it was nice to meet us and then walked away. Dad put a tip on the table and then we left. On the way home I asked dad if I could look at the receipt because I thought we were overcharged. Now I didn't really think we were overcharged, I was testing a theory or a possibility. On the back of the receipt was the waitress's name, "Vicky" and a phone number. She gave my dad her phone number. I helped hook my dad up. Now that's a weird feeling. Now the hard part will be to get him to call her.

A Disturbingly Weird Dream

I Had A Bad Weird Dream. I guess since it's getting so close to the court date that I am getting really stressed out or something. I had a really weird and quite honestly a very disturbing dream. This post is a description of this dream. I will try to keep it as short as I can and still be able to explain it in enough detail so everyone gets the idea. This description should be considered triggering for "emotionally conflicting images" and a general sense of ickyness. You will understand once you read.

This dream takes place in the courtroom and it seems to be my rapists sentencing. We are all in the courtroom; my dad, lawyer, and I are sitting in the front just behind the prosecutor. The rest of my family is sitting in the back roll on the same side of the isle as us. My rapist is there and so is his family. They are all sitting on the other side of the isle behind his defense attorneys. It looks like all of his family has shown up, but the weird thing is all the women are wearing really pretty and colorful dresses and the men are wearing tuxedos. I also notice that my rapist's lawyers and my rapist are also wearing tuxedos. The biggest difference is my rapist's tuxedo is one of those really cheesy baby blue colored tuxedos like you could picture from when your parents were kids. Although all this was really weird looking I didn't think a lot of it because I had other stuff on my mind than their messed up clothes choice. The judge walks in but he's not wearing a judges robe; instead he's dressed like the pope.

The court becomes quiet and the judge asks, "Does anyone have anything to say before sentence is carried out"?

My lawyer stands and says, "Yes, your majesty; Jaime has something to say".

I stood up and began to read the statement I have prepared. I was having trouble reading because for some strange reason the words I wrote didn't seem to make sense. All the words were there but they were out of order. I'm struggling to get through this and I can see my dad out of the corner of my eye shaking his head in disappointment. He's also sighing in frustration. I turn to look at him for support and encouragement to help me get through this and that's when I notice that he had removed his button-up dress shirt, revealing a t-shirt that read, "Don't blame me, SHE WAS A STRAY". I began to look around the courtroom and notice that everyone had the same look on their face; it was a look of confusion. People were also snickering like I was doing a bad performance or something. The judge who is dressed like a pope was dozing off and the bailiff kept poking him in the side to keep him awake. I finally finished reading my statement.

The judge then asked, "Does anyone else have anything to say before sentence is carried out"?

The defense attorney then stood up and said, "Yes".

That's when the guy who raped me stood up and began to speak. I don't remember the exact words but I do remember the gist of it. He was telling the courtroom that HE FORGIVES ME FOR ASSAULTING HIM. I was immediately thinking to myself, WHAT THE HELL. Everyone in the courtroom was nodding their heads in agreement with his statements. They believed that I was his assailant. He made his statement by memory and didn't stutter at all. He was very clear in the way he spoke like he was a professional speaker. After a few minutes he finished.

The judge said, "Would the defendant please stand for sentencing".

My rapist didn't stand-up, there was an eerie silence. I heard some giggles and then once again the judge repeated himself, "Would the defendant please stand for sentencing".

Again he didn't stand-up and the giggles and snickering in the courtroom became louder. I could tell the judge was losing patience and then he slammed his gavel onto the podium and said, "We don't have time for this non-sense. Would the court officer please make the defendant stand for sentencing"?

At that moment everyone in the courtroom turned to the bailiff and watched him as he walked not over to my rapist, but over to me. The bailiff lifted me to my feet from under my arm. I suddenly realized that I was the defendant; I was the one being sentenced. After I was forced to my feet the judge began to read the sentence, "20 years for rape, 20 years for assault, and 20 years for abduction and false imprisonment. Now get that piece of trash out of my courtroom".

I couldn't understand what was happening. The bailiff began to handcuff me and I was looking at my dad for help, but he was just sitting there reading a magazine. I called out for him but he put his finger over his mouth to tell me to shhhhh.

This is where the dream gets really weird and disturbing. As I was being escorted out of the courtroom and toward the holding cells, I heard my rapist yelling and protesting MY SENTENCE. I was placed in a holding cell and then the door was shut behind me. About five or ten minutes passed and my dad finally walked back there and told me that they have figured out a compromise that would keep me out of jail. I kept asking him, "What compromise, how am I supposed to compromise when I am the victim"?

I was walked back into the courtroom and they stood me right next to my rapists and he got down on one knee and said, "I forgive you for being the dirty little whore you are and I will marry you so that you don't have to go to prison".

Suddenly I realized why his family was wearing tuxedos.

Needless to say this is when I woke up and I wasn't able to go back to sleep.

What the heck is this crap about? It was off the chart ridicules and disturbing. I must have taken 1 too many punches to the head and have brain damage to have a dream like that.

A Self Interview: (A Therapy Assignment) 10 Questions

This is an assignment that my therapist asked me to complete before our therapy session on Monday. She gave me these questions and this is how I answered them.

Question  - How would you classify what happened to you?

Answer - I would classify what he did to me as sadistic. It was a sexual, physical, emotional, and verbal form of abuse. It was rape, torture, humiliation, selfish, and evil.

Question - What if any effects does your classification of what he did to you, have on you?

Answer - It's a very surreal feeling and it affects my sense of worth and peace of mind. It also makes me feel used. I feel like I have lost purpose and the very thing that makes me who I am has been stripped away and I am left with all the things he said I was. Like a piece of meat or that I was put on this earth to be a tool and a slut or that I am a stupid whore.

Question - What kind of things did he do to you?

Answer - He beat me, raped me, beat me some more, raped me again. He molested me, put things inside me and purposefully hurt me. He spit on me, urinated on me, and ejaculated on me and in me. He tied me up so that I couldn't even fight back. He kicked me, choked me, burned me, and kissed me. He basically tortured me while he sexually abused me. He talked down to me and humiliated me like I wasn't an individual and treated me like I was property that didn't matter because I was disposable.

Question - How did those things make you feel then and how does it make you feel now?

Answer - Then it made me feel alone, scared, abandoned by GOD and everyone I loved. Now it makes me feel like everything I have ever been told and made to believe about myself that is good was a lie. It makes me question and doubt the honesty of everyone around me. I now assume that if someone gives me a compliment I am being lied to because they feel sorry for me. Someone can tell me, "You're pretty", but what I hear is, "you have scars on your face and you are painful to look at but I will lie and try to make you feel better". Someone can tell me, "You're smart and articulate", but what I hear is, "you're so stupid for allowing yourself to be tricked an manipulated into getting into his van, but I don't want to hurt her feelings and tell her how stupid she is so i will lie". Someone can tell me, "You deserve love and happiness", but I hear, "You are already so broken I would hate to have you commit suicide and then have that on my conscious so I will lie to you and try to give you hope where there is none".

Question - What was the worse thing he did to you?

Answer - I can't talk about that for legal reasons but I do need to talk about it. There's more going on then I can talk about. Sorry that I can't answer that.

Question - How did that make you feel and how do you feel about that now?

Answer - It made me feel like I don't deserve happiness and that no one especially a guy could ever be interested in me. It makes me not feel like a girl and I feel like theirs nothing about me that could ever be desirable.

Question - What was the most painful thing he did to you?

Answer - Again this is a question that I can't currently answer because of legal reasons. I wish I could, sorry.

Question - How did that make you feel and how do you feel about that now?

Answer - It made me feel pain, intense blinding pain. I now feel like I am broken and incomplete. I feel like I am not me anymore.

Question - If there was one thing you could change about what he did to you, what would it be and why?

Answer - It is hard to narrow it down to one thing but if I had to pick one thing it would be that he didn't manipulate me. If he never manipulated me, none of this would have happened and I wouldn't have been fooled into trusting him.

Question - If you could ask your assailant only one question and he had to answer that question truthfully what would your question be?

Answer - There are so many questions I want the answer to, but unfortunately I don't think any answers will help me deal with this. That leaves me with a question that might help others. I would ask him. "Where is the evidence that answers the questions of what happened to other girls other than me? I would ask that because I can only assume that I wasn't his first. His manipulation seems too refined and polished.

Sometimes Karma Is A Cruel Entity

We have all heard of karma and at times we have wished for karma to pay a visit to someone who has done us wrong. Well today karma visited someone who done me wrong but I think it was a bit of an over-kill.

Before anyone who doesn't know who Brad is asks who he is, he is a co-worker who played a practical joke on me a couple of weeks ago. He most certainly didn't deserve this.

This morning while at work the guy that locked me in the freezer had a visit by karma. Before I go any further I want people to know that I did not want anything bad to happen to Brad. As a matter of fact Brad actually seems to be an okay guy, and a decent guy. You might notice that the below picture has a warning. In order to view this picture all you need to do is place your mouse over top. This picture isn't an actual picture of his injury but it is very, very, very similar. I actually found this image by doing a Google search.

Okay, this is what happened. I'm not sure how familiar the readers of my blog are with forklifts but I will try my best to explain. The forklift we have at this grocery store is used only for moving large pallets worth of grocery good off the delivery truck and staging them so that it is easier to do inventory before we actually put the product on the sales floor. This type of forklift runs off of a big battery that weighs about 600 lbs. Normally the forklift's battery is plugged in at night in order to make sure it stays charged. Well the night shift for the last few days has neglected to plug the battery in. Thus the battery was dead and it needed to be swapped out for the backup battery so that the 70 pallets worth of product could be unloaded from the 2 delivery truck. Even though the battery is on rollers of sorts, it's still a two person job to replace this battery. Well Brad, poor, poor Brad decided that he was man enough to change it all by himself. The short answer is he wasn't man enough. Sorry Brad, but there's a reason why things come with instructions.

I knew he was going to try and change the battery himself, I was in the process of leaving the stockroom area to find another guy to help him. I didn't see the manager but I did see the meat guy (butcher). He agreed to help and while we were going back into the stockroom to help Brad change the battery, we heard a loud crash and a rather deep voice screaming like a girl. It didn't take long before we figured out what just happened and the meat guy and I ran into the stockroom to find Brads fingertip trapped underneath this 600 lb forklift battery. Now you might think that his finger would have only been crushed but it was pretty much skinned, almost exactly like the one in the picture. According to Brad, as the battery began to fall he tried to stop it from falling. Once he realized it was too heavy to catch he then tried to move his hand out from underneath before it smashed his hand. Right as the edge of the battery made contact with his class ring he tried jerking his hand out. Well, gravity is pretty fast and when an object has as much momentum as a 600 lb battery it can do some really strange things. The battery crushed his ring as his hand was moving away. Essentially the ring cut the skin around his finger and him jerking his hand away peeled it all down toward his fingertip. When the meat guy and I got there his finger tip was still trapped underneath. Can anyone say OOOUCH?

Long story short, company policy is to call an ambulance in the event a worker gets injured. I insisted that someone drive Brad to the emergency room because the injury was bad enough where I thought he needed immediate medical attention to make sure he doesn't lose his finger. I happened to be the elected driver. Brad had a car so we used his and I drove. I was up at the hospital for about 3 hours before his mom and dad finally told me to go ahead and leave. His mom gave me a ride home. This was around 1:00 pm  About an hour ago I got a call from brad and they had to do surgery on his finger. He has a pin in his fingertip and they think he will have permanent nerve damage.

The moral of this story is that sometimes it is best to not joke around at work because karma has a way about getting back at ya. I do think karma took retribution just a hair too far. Poor, poor, Brad. I hope your finger heals quickly. I think I will kinda miss having you around at work.

Part 6 Of What Happened To Me

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A Letter To My Rapist

Dear Sexual Assailant,

Why did you enjoy hurting me?

I can't even begin to understand the appeal of seeing someone suffer. You not only enjoyed seeing me suffer but you also clearly enjoyed being the cause to this suffering. There were many times where you weren't hurting me in a sexual way and only a physical way, but you still became sexually aroused presumably by my out-loud cries and tears. Many times as I suffered the pain of your physical abuses I saw you become erect. Then because of the twisted person you are, you then satisfied your sexual urge by using me. What kind of person are you that you can see someone suffer and be the manufacturer of that suffering and be aroused by it?

Was it all premeditated?

Your actions, demeanor, and attitude suggest that your cruelty was premeditated. You had a van that for lack of a better description had a torture chamber built into the back of it. You had a duffle bag full of things like rope, handcuffs, duct-tape, gags, and tools. I can only presume that this was your personal version of a rape kit. How long did it take you to modify your van into a torture chamber? Was this something that you worked on for hours, days, or weeks? Did someone help you or were you able to come up with all these plans on your own. You had a cooler filled with enough ice, food, and drinks that you could have kept me with you for 3 or more days. Did you plan on torturing me longer than 23 hours or were you making sure you were prepared?

Was I specifically part of the premeditation?

I have tried so hard to wrap my head around what you did to me, but as hard as I try I can't seem to. We knew of each other but we didn't really know each other. You were an 18 year old student at my high school and we have seen each other in school but we weren't friends, we weren't even really friends of friends. Did you see me at school and then start fantasizing about hurting me? Was this something that developed over time or did you instantly know that I was the one you wanted to hurt?

The night we ran into each other at the mall did you already know I was there or were you just looking for anyone you thought you could manipulate into getting into your van?

Were you going to kill me?

Many times while you were hurting me you made threats to kill me. You threatened to strangle me with your own hands and a few times you did choke me into near unconsciousness. You held a knife against my throat and laughed as you saw me cry. You threatened to handcuff me to a heavy weight and throw me off the bridge into the Ohio River. You even threatened to fill a water bottle up with Drano and force me to drink it or squeeze it into me like a douche. All of these threats I took serious because once you raped me 2 or 3 times I realized you were capable of anything.

Why did you let me go?

After all the times you raped, sodomized, molested, beat, threatened, and tortured me, you let me go. Why would you do that? Did you not realize that I would tell the police what happened? Surly you realized that I had to go to the hospital as a result of your assault and that would lead to questions of what happened to me. Further you had to assume that the questions would lead to the truth and the truth to evidence collection and evidence would lead to your arrest. Did you want to be arrested? Did you want this before you assaulted me, during the assault, or just at the end?

Why did you later confess?

When they arrested you it took only a few hours before you confessed to what you did, but as much as they tried to figure out the "WHYS" of the case you were silent.

Are there other victims of yours out there?

Was I the one and only victim? How many others have you hurt and are they still alive? Did your intimidation keep them fearful and in a state of silence? Did you assume that I would be so scared of you that I would remain silent?

Do you regret what you did to me?

I can't imagine that someone could ever hurt another person the way you hurt me. I can't fathom it. I have tried to understand the "WHYS", but I obviously have too much sanity to understand the enjoyment of seeing people suffer.

At some point when you was hurting me did you regret what you did to me, and is that why you let me go and then later after being arrested confess to hurting me?

What I think of you.

I think you are very simple minded although you have an intelligents about you that gives you the ability to seem trustworthy but that's about it. I think each and every person in this world has animalistic desires but the vast majority of us understand right from wrong and we care about how our actions affect others. You on the other hand are a sociopath.

I think you premeditated most of what you did to me, but I think I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. It just happened to be the same time you were on the prowl. I think if it wasn't me it would have been someone else. For that reason I am glad that you chose me instead of one of my friends or GOD forbid, a child. I think you let me go because you were so sure that you had broken me and that I wouldn't turn you in. Once the police had enough evidence to arrest you I think you realized there was too much evidence and that's why you confessed. Sad thing is I imagine you confessed not out of regret or remorse, but as an attempt to manipulate the court system into thinking you're remorseful. I can't imagine that you could expect leniency after what you did to me, but then again I am not as fucked up as you are.

I am beyond the point where I am safe to assume that you will be in prison for many years. I could sit here with a very vindictive yet satisfying look on my face with the thought of you becoming the prison play toy. Who gets passed around and used on a nightly basis by those much more physically powerful than you, but I don't want you to be used that way. I know what it feels like and I wouldn't wish that upon even my worst enemy, and yes, you're my worst enemy. Ideally you will become reformed, but since I don't think a monster could ever be anything but a monster, I simply hope that you will die of old age while still behind bars.

If I could ignore my humanity and all the things that make me the person I am, I would want you to be tortured to death. I am glad I have a conscious, because I don't want to be as weak minded as you. I don't want to be so empty that I fill myself with anger and the suffering of others.

As much as I despise you with every fiber of my being, I still feel sorry for you. Not because you will undoubtedly feel the isolation of prison that separates you from society or that you will be surrounded by other monsters that may view you as prey. I feel sorry for you because you are incapable of understanding love. You are incapable of sharing love. If you can't understand or share love, you will never KNOW love. What an empty life that will be for you. While you face the day to day solitude of your loveless life, I will be surrounded with people who love me and people whom I love. That's what you were powerless to take from me, and still are powerless to take away from me.

Sexual Assault Risk - Conservatively Dressed vs. Flirtatiously Dressed

I have recently read a post on a support forum in regards to the way someone is dressed as being a temptation to potential sexual assailants. One side of the argument proclaims that wearing very conservative clothing reduces the risk of being sexually assaulted. Another side proclaims that the clothing doesn't affect our chances of being assaulted. I have been thinking about this and I wonder if it makes a difference, but sort of from a different angle. First I will try and explain what I THINK a potential sexual assailant thinks when looking at a flirtatiously dressed girl/person and a conservatively dressed girl/person.

Flirtatiously Dressed:

I think when a potential sexual assailant sees someone who is flirtatiously dressed they see someone who is "pickup smart". Meaning, she has heard all the tricks, manipulation tactics, and lines that exists. As a result she's not as likely to be taken advantage of in an emotional sense. Also I think because society teaches us that the flirtatiously dressed girl is more likely to VOLUNTARILY put out that she won't be a challenge and if there's no challenge there's no rewarding gratification.

Conservatively Dressed:

I think when a potential sexual assailant sees someone who is conservatively dressed they see someone who has never "been kissed". Meaning that they are a little innocent in their knowledge of pickup tactics, thus naive and unaware that they are being manipulated. Also the conservatively dressed girl gives off this ambiance that they are ideal from a purity standpoint. They have the reputation of being untouched and maybe even a goody two shoes.

A sexual assault is seldom about sex, it's about control and power. The assailant would be more gratified by the manipulation of an innocent and the conservatively dressed girl is associated with innocence. Also what would give a power seeking sick-O a greater since of power? (1) Taking something from a girl that he perceives has already been given many times(sex). - OR - (2) Taking from a girl what he perceives to be so precious and valuable to her that she wants to be very selective as to who she shares it with. I think #2 is the most gratifying scenario to an assailant.

There's another side to this. 55%-61% of rapes are premeditated (pre-planed), 22%-24% are rapes of opportunity (date rapes), and 15%-22% are impulsive (stranger rapes). So yes I would say that dressing flirtatiously MAY eliminate part of the risk associated to the POWER seeking premeditated 55%-61%, but it will likely increase the risk from the impulsive 15%-22% and maybe also increase the risk from the opportunistic 22%-24%. Power and gratification through manipulation is a premeditated act, but sexual gratification is mostly an impulse and an opportunistic act.

I could be way off on this because I haven't really researched it. I personally feel that a premeditated rape has the potential to be less deadly because the assailant has generally pre-planned their escape and how to limit physical evidence. The impulsive and opportunistic assailant didn't plan anything, they act on a seconds impulse and after they have finished their next impulse could be to eliminate the only witness because the assailant suddenly realizes that they have left all sorts of forensic evidence and a witness.

Conclusion:

Although the chance of being assaulted might slightly decrease if you dress flirtatiously as opposed to conservative, the chance of death as a result of murder to eliminate the only witness might increase. So I don't know if it is a fair or safe tradeoff of potential risks. Especially when 55% -61% of rapes are premeditated and when premeditation is taken into account the likelihood of the assault being sexual in nature instead of controlling is decreased.

Just to let everyone know this article is just my opinion and is based off of very little research. The only facts are the percentages and that regardless of how a person is dressed it doesn't define the person, and limit their rights to not be assaulted. We all have an equal right to be safe.

Source For Percentages:

Crime & Clues

THE ART & SCIENCE OF CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION

A Venting Letter

Before anyone reads this I want it to be clear that this is just a means of venting. I have no intention of harming myself.

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Dear World,

I became a part of you when I was 100% useless and vulnerable. I spent 16 years trying to become something of worth that was strong, but I have failed. I should be standing tall but instead I cower in the corner. This is even before you pissed and shit on me with extreme indifference. Now I am less than nothing, now I am worth less than valueless. Now I'm not even strong enough to be worthy of the breath in my lungs, love, compassion, or life.

World, I submit to your cruelty and I'm on my knees in defeat. As my life spills on the floor I replace the stain that is me upon the world with a single staining puddle that a sponge can clean up. I know you will be a far better place for others without me.

Dear Fellow Survivors,

I came to you when I needed support the most. As welcoming and understanding as you all were, I can not risk that I will become an even greater burden to you. It is unfair for me to want you to support what is already broken, and what is damaged beyond repair. It is unfair for me to contaminate your lives with my perpetual stain. You all have your own needs and I can't be so selfish as to expect support from you when you are just trying to keep yourself intact.

I have nothing but stupid juvenile opinions that are lacking in an obvious empathy that everyone needs. I am too stupid to understand, too stupid to encourage, and too stupid to deserve the chance to help someone else. All of you deserve so much more support and better encouragement than I am capable of giving.

My actions will not only set me free from the bonds of corporeal pain, but it will rid me from you like the cancerous growth I am.

Dear Dad,
Don't cry, just find comfort in that I am no longer hurting. I am free, and you are free from my burdening imposition. Now you will have more energy and time to raise Amie, she deserves you so much more than I. Although you will miss me and it will hurt, it is far better to rip the band-aid off than it is to slowly torture you.

Daddy, you didn't fail me, I failed you. I should have listened to your words of wisdom. If I would have just listened, this wouldn't have happened. I failed you and I do not deserve your love. Now you can put all of your efforts into protecting and raising Amie, she deserves you so much more than I.

I love you daddy, but I don't deserve your love. Please allow me one more imposition. Go to my blog and print out my letter to the court and read it during his sentencing.

Dear little sister,

I regret that I will not be there to be the big sister that you should have been able to come to for advice. I know you don't understand this now and I pray you never will understand. I simply can not risk that you will become tainted by me. I am bad for you. There's only one lesson I can teach you, and that is to listen to dad.

Amie, I love you. I am in a better place now, and I am with mom now. We look forward to seeing you after you live a long full life.

Dear rapist,
You won the fight, you overpowered me on every level. You have won the war, and I am too broken to fight anymore. I hope you feel proud of your life's singular accomplishment.

Dear Police,

This is a self-inflicted injury with the intent of my own death. There's nothing to investigate. Instead put resources into investigating REAL crimes.

Dear Court,

In my statement of mine that my dad read I said I wouldn't hint to what I think is a fair punishment. I have changed my mind. Fair would be a dark and filthy hole in the earth where the worms can feast upon him. At least this way he can be some good to the world. Don't kill him, just bury him alive and let the worms kill him.

A Letter To My Rapist's Mom

The following is a letter I am thinking about giving the mother of the guy who raped me. I am wanting to do this because I can partially imagine what a parent (especially a mom) would be going through in the situation that they have been forced into by their child's actions. I would appreciate feedback on if this is totally insane, outlandish, or insensitive of me to write. As I say in the letter, the last thing I want to do is add to his mom's pain. If I do give this to her it is as much for me as it is for her, but I will not allow my needs here to further hurt her.

I have discussed the legality of this with my lawyer and as long as it doesn't come off as harassment, slanderous, or intentionally hurtful it is okay. I ask each of you if this does come off in that way? If I do give her this letter it will be after he is sentenced on the 20th, and it will be given to her by my lawyer.

Dear Mrs. (her last name),

I have struggled with the idea of writing you this letter. I am so worried that this letter will be received negatively. It most certainly isn't meant to add to the pain you undoubtedly are feeling right now. In many ways I can only imagine what you are going through as a mother. Although there's currently no way I could possibly understand what you are going through, I do realize all of this must be very hard for you. I want you to know that I hold no anger toward you. Sometimes things happen that aren't a reflection of how we were raised. Sometimes a parent can be the most devout of parents and things still become messed up. Sometimes the best of parents become separated from their child due to the child's own wrong choices. I think what I'm trying to say is that I don't feel that anything that happened to me is your fault, and I pray that you don't feel that it's your fault.

When tragedies, difficulties, and emotional struggle happens in our lives and the lives of those we care about, all we can do is continue to move forward and show support for those we love. We can drive ourselves crazy with questions like why did this happen? What did I do wrong? Why couldn't I have prevented this from happening? The reality is sometimes everything can be done right, and things can still go wrong.

Mrs. (her last name), I am sorry for how much this situation has affected everyone. You and ALL of your family are in my prayers.

-Jaime

Just A Stupid Feeling

So dad, my sister, and I went out for an early dinner. After we finished eating we left to go home, but instead of going home dad pulled into a used car lot. Okay, dad knows I have been wanting to look at cars and see which one I like that are within my affordability range, but MY affordability rage not his. I understand he wants me to have a really nice and safe car, but I can only afford one that is so new, so safe, and so nice. Dad is pointing out cars with all these safety features and are practically brand new that I can't afford. I know what he's doing, I know my dad so well. He's thinking about buying me a car for Christmas and he is trying to figure out what kind of car I like by showing me all the ones he thinks are safe. He would never have thought about doing this before all the crap in my life. I don't want him to feel guilted into buying me a car because of my circumstances. 

How do I tell my dad that I don't want him to buy me a car without hurting his feelings? I want to buy my own car, even if that car isn't as safe as or as new as dad wants me to have.

This must seem like a non issue to most people. I just don't want to feel helpless, and it just seems that if I was the one to buy my own car, pay for the costs myself, that I would be somehow empowering my own freedom. That sounds so stupid.

I just want to feel like an adult instead of this freaking damaged little child I have been feeling like.

Am I being stupid? Please be honest.

My Statement To The Court (Revised) 17 Days Till Sentencing

In just under seventeen days the monster who hurt me will be sentenced for his crimes. As a survivor I am given the right to address the court during his sentencing. The following text will be my statement to the court. To read the original version go here.

Thank you for allowing me this opportunity to speak.

Every two minutes in the United States someone is sexually assaulted. That adds up to 213,000 sexual assaults each year. Almost 94,000 of those sexual assaults involve people younger than age 18. A staggering 128,000 sexual assaults each year are never reported to the police. This translates to a sad fact that 15 out of 16 individuals who commit an act of sexual assault never see a day in jail for their crime. I as a survivor of rape want answers. I want to know why the statistics favor the assailants so much more that the victim.

I never thought I would be a victim of rape. I don't think anyone thinks they'll be a victim of rape. When something as awful as rape happens and we hear about it, we often have this voice in the back of our mind that tells us that it will never happen to me. I had that voice. It's a harsh reality to accept, but I was raped, sodomized, and beaten repeatedly by the defendant.

The defendant held me captive in his van for nearly twenty three hours. During this twenty three hour nightmare I was naked and not allowed to cover up. I was raped vaginally eleven times, raped by means of sodomy three times, raped orally five times, and molested in so many ways I can't even count. During these assaults I was made helpless and unable to defend myself by his use of handcuffs, rope, and shreds of my own clothes that he cut off of me with his pocket knife. This was the same knife that he held against my throat as he joked around about killing me. The same knife he held against other parts of my body promising to mutilate me in order to force me into compliance with his twisted desires.

Several hours into this nightmare I gave up trying to fight. I simply allowed him to be my puppet master. I accepted that I would eventually be murdered. He then used the threats of even more vile forms of torture to sway me into performing sexual acts for him. These threats included tools like hammers, nails, blow torches, knives, and chemicals such as Drano, lighter fluid, and paint thinner. He also threatened to break my bones one at a time if I didn't look him in the eyes while he abused me. All of these threats but one he spared me of.

The defendant eventually let me go. He drove his van in front of my home, opened the side door to his van, and pushed me out onto the pavement. I never will forget the last words he said to me just before he drove away. "Thank you bitch, I had a great time."

I struggled to run into the safety of my home where I could cover myself. My dad drove me to the hospital. I was treated for dehydration, cuts, bruises, and a broken arm. I received a total of thirty seven stitches in the emergency room. Then I spent several humiliating hours being subjected to evidence collection to make sure the defendant's guilt would be proven. Sixteen days later I found out that I needed surgery to fix a perforated bowel. I also found out that I was pregnant and since I have never been with a man, the defendant was the sperm donor. One month later while in school I miscarried and lost this baby whom my dad and I were in the process of finding a suitable family for adoption.

I didn't only receive a broken arm, cuts, bruises, tears, and internal damage that required surgery to repair, but I also have emotional injuries that I will continue to heal from long after my body's injuries have healed. This is something that will affect me for the rest of my life. The defendant took something from me during those twenty three hours where he raped and beat me at his leisure. It's more then my virginity or my body. It's my peace of mind, comfort, and sense of security. It's a first sexual experience that I always hoped would be tender and beautiful. No longer will I have hope that my first sexual experience will be a beautiful sharing between two lovers. I will always have the memory of me being raped and the chance of the emotional pain resurfacing during a future relationship.

I have spent many sleepless nights trying to figure out how to deal with the emotional damage this assault has caused me. In all honesty I have had a difficult time calling what he did to me rape. I have said he hurt me, assaulted me, and other terms to describe what he did to me. The reason why is because rape is such a horrible thing. In many ways I guess I was afraid of the word rape nearly as much as I was afraid to be in his van. I want the court to know that I'm not afraid, but mostly I want the defendant to know that I am not afraid of the word rape anymore; nor am I afraid of him.

I come here urging this court to pass fair sentence on the defendant. I honestly do not know what would be a fair punishment. I could never be impartial because I am far too vested in his punishment. As a result I will not hint as to what I feel is a fair sentence. I will simply put my faith is the wisdom of this court and expect this court to deliver due justice so that a message is sent to anyone who would choose to do harm to another person in this manner that justice will be served and crimes of the nature will not go unpunished. The cycle of sexual assaults and relaxed judgments against the assailants have to stop. Let this be the beginning of shifting the statistics that favor the assailant to statistics that favor the survivors. Without this shift in societal paradigm we can never hope to end sexual violence.

Thank you again for this opportunity to let my voice be heard.

I Unplugged For A Few Hours

I was in a really bad mood yesterday. It started right before I went to sleep the night before. I don't have any idea what triggered it because 2 days ago I was in a pretty good mood all day long. Yesterday I woke up all pissed off, not at anything in particular. I felt like I was on the edge of sanity and just one small step away from blowing up.

As some of you may know I started a part time job this week. I only worked 12 hours this week which is okay but I want to work at least 20 hours so I can more easily afford the expenses that come with having a car. Work is pretty easy but there's one thing that bothers me about the job. I think this is one of the things that bothered me so much yesterday. I want to give some quick background so you can see what I'm talking about and where I'm coming from.

I am slightly claustrophobic, always have been. The guy who hurt me held me captive in his van for a 23 hour period of time. The van was similar to a delivery van that you would see UPS or a bread truck using. The inside of it was roughly 7 feet high (just a little shorter than the ceiling in a typical home), about 7 feet wide, and 12 feet long. That's not an extraordinarily tight space but for someone who has a fear or even a slight fear of small spaces it was very unsettling. This isn't even taking into account all the stuff that happened to me in that small space or the fact that I was often blindfolded which made the space seem even smaller.

At the grocery store I work at there's a walk in freezer that just happens to be near the same size as the inside of the van. It bothers me a little to be in there but I know I am safe so it's not too big of a deal. Well, this freezer is designed so that they can be opened from the outside or the inside. All walk in freezer built after a certain year has a safety mechanism which keeps the seal around the door from freezing and trapping someone inside. The manager made me aware of this and has even temporarily placed a handheld radio (walkie-talkie) inside of it just in case someone get's trapped so they can call the manager or someone to help them get out. Being that I hate small spaces and the freezer similarities to the van, I always use something to prop open the door when I am in there. I need to see an open door; it's as simple as that. Yesterday while I was in the freezer someone (coworker) purposely moved the bucket that I was using to prop open the door, causing the door to slam shut. I didn't know at the time that this happened intentionally. No big deal, it will take a few minutes for the door to freeze shut. Long story made short, this employee who was just trying to be funny and had no harming intentions leaned against the door. This gave me the impression that the door had frozen shut. Still, no big deal; I grabbed the radio and called for the manager but of course the manager was out in the parking lot and the radio was on his desk.

After a few minutes the guy who shut the freezer door opened it and let me know that he was just playing a joke on me. I politely told him to never do that again. He was laughing and I then emphasized that I was being serious. He said that it was just a joke and I needed to learn how to take a joke. Now I realize he has no idea what the issue is with me and I do not hold that against him. Still I told him I was being serious about this and he dismissed me.

Later one of the cashiers asked me if I was okay. She said that I looked like I was upset. I told her what happened with the freezer and I also told her that tight spaces are a problem for me. I explained that I'm claustrophobic and that recently something really horrible happened to me in a closed in space. She didn't ask too many questions, but she offered to listen if I needed to talk. This well intentioned cashier at some point told the manager that the guy employee locked me in the freezer. This stirred up controversy that landed right in my lap. As far as I was concerned the freezer incident was over with, but the manager called everyone to the break room for a meeting.

The manager reiterated that this was a work place not a place to horseplay. Okay, good enough. The guy who shut the door on me got upset thinking that I told on him to the manager. I didn't tell on him, the cashier did. He looked at me and called me a snitch and a snob. I was visibly upset at this point and the manager told him again that this wasn't the place for horseplay. The guy co-worker asked what's the big deal about playing a joke on her. It was a harmless joke. I became pissed, I was furious. Why couldn't he have just let this go? I walked up to this co-worker and talked very calmly and quietly. I said, "Brad, I didn't tell on you. As far as I was concerned you locking me in the freezer was over with. Since you want to know what the big deal is I will explain it to you. I am scared of small spaces, maybe you heard of it, claustrophobia. Also since you want to know so badly what the BIG DEAL is, three month ago I was abducted and held captive in a van about the same size as that freezer. I was repeatedly raped and beaten inside that van. So yes BRAD, being locked in that freezer that reminded me so much of that van was such a funny joke. FORGIVE ME FOR NOT LAUGHING."

I felt immediately ashamed after I stopped talking. The fact that everyone else who was there was silent because they didn't know what to say, didn't help. I sort of felt empowered, vindicated, and ashamed all at the same time. I walked out of the meeting and into the employee restroom. It didn't take long before someone came to check on me.

Later after I got home I had a dispute with someone on a support forum. I will say it wasn't with someone on After Silence, it was a different forum. This dispute wasn't a big deal, but an administrator of that forum said to me, "if you don't like it here you can go somewhere else". That hit me the wrong way because I wasn't aware that the dispute I had was a real big deal. The entire dispute came down to an argument that started in a thread. I wasn't even a part of this argument. The gist of it was that the administrator disciplined another forum member, but instead of disciplining them by private message they did it in the thread. Essentially letting everyone know that this person was being punished and what their punishment was. I simply contacted that administrator by private message and told her that I thought it should have been handled privately. I tried to explain that handling this in the thread can embarrass the person in question and it seems unprofessional to do that so publicly. Now keep in mind the person that was being disciplined didn't do some horrible thing, but they did show a little bit of disrespect to another member. The administrator apparently didn't like that I suggested that it would have been better to handle all of this in private. She replied back, "if you don't like it here you can go somewhere else". Maybe I'm too sensitive, but when an administrator of a support forum shows such a lack of common decency I tend to get a bad impression of that forum as a whole.

This just added to everything that was going on in my mind. I felt like removing myself from the world. I almost deleted all my online accounts including my blog, but instead I unplugged for several hours. Plus I have been spending too much time in political debate forums. Sure these forums keep me distracted and since I am being HOME SCHOOLED now, I haven't been able to participate in the debate team that I loved so much at the school I was going to. I thought it would be a fitting replacement. The problem with debate forums is when I leave them and go to a support forum that I need to keep myself sane, I have trouble turning off the competitive debating side of me. As a result I can often become very direct in my opinions.

If I ever become very argumentative, please don't take it as personal. I am a very passionate person and when I see something that I feel really strongly about I can become seemingly cold and insensitive in my responses. If I made anyone feel bad during one of my many opinions please accept my apology.

Free Writing Exercise Just Because I am Bored

I was reading a blog named Because You Are Worth Waiting For owned by an online friend of mine earlier. On this blog she did a free writing exercise where she set a timer for five minutes and wrote continuously without regard to grammar, spelling, or plot. Basically just transferring random thought into type. I am going to do that because I am bored and I think my friend had fun doing it. I will stop at the end of five minutes even if I am in the middle of a thought. Here is goes, the timer is set for five minutes.

The blinking curser on the screenaggravates me, I can't type the heater just kicked on. my head hurts I wonder why the hell am I doing this I must really be board. my nose itches anf I need to shave my legs . I have to do laundry in the morning ,peacok my cat is snoring. i am more board with this than I thought I woulf be. now my head itches I cant even stop typing so that I can scratch because this is suppose to be non stop typing who in the wotrld came up wuth this and what is the pointt oto itr I have no idea but I do know I need to take a typing vcal class because this is fidic ridiculas I am officially the worls d wortst typist okay now I get it Iam laughing at my self and noew I cant stop laughing my cat woke up and i am hoping this five minute is over with so I can gop back to watching my name is earl on tv. I think its a stupid sho but still kinda funny I sort od wish friends was on instead. man this is a long foive minutes I have so may n many typos I doubt people will even un derstand what I am typing. I really need to learn how to type. My fingers are not very coordinated  my nose is itching now now im iching all over  I really need to scrathc./

An Observation Of Self-Esteem

As a member of several support forums I have noticed something that's very common among nearly all abuse survivors including myself. I am talking about a poor or diminished sense of worth and self-esteem. I have seen some of the most beautiful people I have ever seen both inside and out in online support forums and blogs that have an unfavorable opinion of themselves. I have seen the same thing with people in my real life support group that I go to every other week. There's one woman in my support group that looks like a model, but if I was to ask her if she thinks she is pretty she would say "sort of". I have had several people compliment me and tell me that I am pretty, but I don't feel pretty. When I look in the mirror I don't see the same person other people see, I see someone who is stained, damaged, defiled, and generally undesirable.

Why do we as abuse survivors have a low self-esteem? Why do we often feel so disconnected from the world around us that we have thoughts of suicide and often use acts of self-harm such as cutting to feel like we are still alive? Although many of us have strong support structures it often isn't enough to keep us grounded and feeling connected to the world. I have a very strong support structure, but I still have a very low self-esteem. I have even tried to commit suicide before. Thankfully my dad stopped me before I could pull the trigger.

I think there are several factors that affect our self-esteem. They are, but not limited to, PTSD, anxiety, depression, substance abuse, personality disorders, dissociative disorders, and injuries or illness. Although all of these contribute to a diminished self-esteem, I want to focus on the three in my humble uneducated opinion that affects our self esteem the most.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a severe anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to any event that results in psychological trauma. This event may involve the threat of death or threat and actions of physical or sexual abuse toward themselves or to someone else. Symptoms include flashbacks or nightmares, avoidance of stimuli associated with the trauma, and increased difficulty falling or staying asleep, anger, and hyper-vigilance.

Dissociative Disorder is defined as conditions that involve disruptions or breakdowns of memory, awareness, identity and/or perception. People with dissociative disorders are able to escape from reality involuntarily. Typically the development of this disorder is the reaction to some sort of trauma. It may also be an automatic coping mechanism to avoid thinking about difficult memories.

Depression is a state of low mood and aversion to activity that can affect a person's thoughts, behavior, feelings and physical well-being. Depressed people may feel sad, anxious, empty, hopeless, helpless, worthless, guilty, irritable, or restless. They may lose interest in activities that once were pleasurable. They may experience loss of appetite or overeating, or problems concentrating, remembering details or making decisions. Often depression leads someone to contemplate or attempt suicide.

I think these 3 contribute more to our diminished sense of self-esteem than anything else. To me it's no surprise. When we suffer from severe anxiety as a result of what happened to us during our abuse, we become hyper-vigilant of everything around us. We become hyper-vigilant because we want to protect ourselves from further abuse. This hyper-vigilance can drive us crazy. We understandably become so fearful and anxious of everything around us that our stress level remains high.

This increased stress level as a result of hyper-vigilantes will tend to keep us separated from the world in an attempt to limit emotional and stress triggers. This compounds the often dissociative disorders that many survivors of abuse experience. When we avoid thinking about the things that happened to us, we essentially avoid dealing with them. When the anxiety attributed to PTSD causes us to purposefully and often obsessively avoid emotional and stress triggers, we tend to keep to ourselves isolated. We drastically limit our in person interaction with the world around us. All of this draws us further into a state of isolation. We gain the mindset of, "I may be alone, but I am safe."

This increased acceptance that we need to remain separated from life in order to remain relatively trigger free and safe leads to depression. As we become more and more isolated from family, friends, and society we become depressed. We become accustomed to being alone and watching the world seemingly passes us by. At this point what are we left with? We are left with our own thoughts, our own negative influences, and our own memories of our assault to deal with on our own. We get so use to listening to our own negativity and self-blame that we laterally become ashamed of what happened to us. We look back at all the things we could have done differently that may have changed the outcome of our abuse, but we seldom accept the fact that hindsight is always 20/20.

As a result of this self-contrived isolation we are denied the positive influences of real-life friends. Leaving us almost exclusively at the mercy of our own negative thoughts and it causes us to sink even further into a state of depression. It's no surprise to me that all of this leads to abuse survivors having a poor self-esteem.

How do we counteract our poor self-esteem so that we can heal? I think the answer is so simple that each and every one of us already knows the answer. We need to let our voice be heard. We need to let family and friends into our lives and our thoughts so that we can hear and feel their positive influences instead of only our own negative influences. As we let other people's positive influences become a part of us, our own negative influences and shame start to diminish. In time, this will help rebuild our sense of self-worth and self-esteem.

I have so many negative emotions bouncing around in my head that sometimes I feel like I am to blame for everything that is wrong in my life and the world. Irrationally I accept responsibility and shame when in fact the responsibility and shame lies with the execrable person who hurt me. However there's responsibility where it does lie with me, which is the healing process. A process that more often than not is a life long process that's very difficult at times.

As survivors if we want to have a favorable opinion of ourselves, and we need to let others into our thoughts. We need to share our feelings and listen to the encouragement of the family, friends, and other survivors we encounter. It is hard to let other people's positive influence affect us, but it is very easy to believe our own negative influences. That's why support forums, support groups, and the positive influences of those around us are very important. As survivors let's do what we can to heal, let's surround ourselves as much as possible with people who give us the positive reinforcement that we deserve and need.