Uncontrolled Irrational Fear

I have never felt so fearful and so out of control before in what would normally be safe. I don't know how to deal with this fear. Ever since he hurt me I have been afraid to go anywhere. I have missed so much school that I know my grades are going to be affected. Luckily for me my teachers, principal, and especially my dad are very understanding.

All my friends and several others know what happened to me. That's a good thing because it prevents many of the questions I know people have. The most obvious question is about my appearance. One thing in particular that I haven't really talked about all that much is my hair. Yes you heard that right, my hair. Among the many acts of violence, insults, and disgusting things he did to me, there is one that I have trouble hiding. Not because it was violent and left bruises, but because I look so much different now. One of the last things he did to me is bazaar. I don't know why he did it, as far as I know he hasn't told the investigators why he did it. I have my own personal theories of why he did it but I'm not going to get into that. 

Right before he was finished with me. Right before he dropped me off at the end of my driveway, he used his pocket knife to cut my hair off. I don't mean he shaved it off. It was more like he cut it off in chunks. Some of it was untouched (very little), and some of it was cut within a few inches of my scalp. It looked like someone gave Dennis The Menace some really dull scissors and told him to give me a haircut. It took me three years to grow my hair out as long as I had it, and it took this guy a couple minutes to ruin it. Before we go any further, I don't want people to think I am crying over my hair. I know may hair will grow back. 

One of the reasons why I have missed so much school lately is because I don't feel like me anymore. I don’t feel normal in my own skin anymore. I literally feel like I am wearing an ugly costume that I can't take off. I feel like when I go out into public people will see the costume and they won't see me. I try my best to hide my injuries. I wear long sleeve shirts that have baggy enough sleeves so that I can cover up the cast on my arm. I wear hats to disguise my hair. My really close friends and family know that he cut my hair, and they understand why I am wearing a hat all the time. It's really not that unusual for me to wear hats, I have dozens of them.

This morning at school while waiting for the bell to ring to let us know it was time to go to homeroom, there was a student that was arguing with a teacher. This girl was wearing a hat and a teacher told her that hats are against the dress code and that she needed to take it off. They argued back and forth and the girl kept looking at me. Why was she looking at me? I wasn't involved in this argument; I was minding my own business. She told that teacher that she wasn't going to take her hat off because others in the school are wearing hats and it's not fair to make her take off her hat but not anyone else. To make a long story short she told that teacher that I was wearing a hat and that she wasn't going to take hers off if I was still wearing mine. This girl is unfamiliar with what happened to me so I don't blame her for bringing me into her argument. The teacher told her again to take her hat off, and she finally did. Then the teacher walked over to me and told me to take my hat off. Apparently he didn't get the memo. The principal out of kindness and understanding had given me permission to wear a hat for a few months until my hair had grown out a little and could be evenly cut. I politely told him that I don't have to. We went back and forth about it, and the entire time he was towering over me. Finally my math teacher who is familiar with what happened saw or heard what was going on. She walked up to the other teacher and whispered in his ear. I don't know what she told him, but he nodded his head and walked away. My math teacher smiled at me and then also walked away.

The other student who had to take her hat off began to run her mouth. She was complaining that I wasn't made to take my hat off. She kept on and on and wouldn't let it go. Finally one of my girlfriends told her to mind her own business. The whole time this girl was yelling and asking, "Why does she (meaning me) think she's so special"? It all turned into some really stupid BS.

The bell finally rang and I quickly began to weave through the crowd and head toward my homeroom class. I was glad that it was over with. Suddenly I felt my hat being pulled off from behind. There I was in the middle of the hallway surrounded by all these people who were staring at my messed up hair and most of them were laughing. I heard things like, "What the F#&K happened to your hair? Why would you cut your hair like that? Did you lose a fight with a lawnmower? I think she done got the mange".

I understand how meaningless insults are in the long term, but I'm just not at a place right now to deal with stuff like that. I was crying and shaking while trying my best to cover my head with my hands. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran for the nearest exit and ran outside. My best friend walked out behind me and sat down next to me. Our conversation was rather personal so I will simply say she tried to console me through empathy. She ended up missing homeroom because she stayed to talk with me. (Thank you my friend) 

I continued to sit out there even after my friend had to go on to glass. Ever once in a while another student would walk in or out of the building and pretend they didn't see me out there crying with my messed up hair exposed. I guess I was out there for most of first period before my school counselor realized I was outside. He walked out there and he apparently heard what happened. I didn't ask how he knew, but I think it's safe to say that my friend out of concern for me told the counselor. He handed me my hat (I don't know where he found it) and told me that I couldn't stay out there all day. He told me to put my hat on and don't worry about wearing it in school because he will take care of the problem. I gladly put my hat back on and then reluctantly went back into the school building. I went to the restroom before returning to class because I wasn't ready to walk into class and have sixty eyes stare at me. Besides there was only a few minutes left of first period.

At the beginning of last period the principal began to make an announcement over the intercom. Everyone was given permission to wear hats until spring gets here. They played it all off as if giving permission to wear hats was a winter and staying warm thing, but I knew it was for me and to prevent another misunderstanding. It was a bad day to say the least.

I don't consider myself to be shallow or vain. I don't think this fear was about my hair in the sense of someone thinking I am unattractive. I don't think these fears are about my hair. I think it's about how vulnerable I feel now. I have always been a highly confident person but now all of that confidence seems to have vanished. I DON'T FEEL LIKE ME, and I want to feel like me again. I want to get out of bed in the morning without first reaching for a hat to put on. I want to walk outside without every shadow, sound, movement, and voice sending me into an uncontrolled irrational fear. I just want to be me again, is that too much to expect?

Trusting You With My Pain

I think we all want to be able to trust the people in our lives, especially our family and friends. We are born having trust in our protectors (usually our parents), but sometimes things happen to us that tramples on our ability to trust. Sometimes it's being lied to, stolen from, mistreated, neglected, or abused that dissolves our trust in others. When our trust in others is damaged, we often began to lose faith or trust in ourselves to let the right people into our lives. I guess we assume that if we made the mistake of trusting someone because they hurt us, we worry that we are doomed to make those same mistakes again.

Like most people, I didn't wake up one morning wondering if today was going to be the day I make a mistake in trusting a guy just to then have him take advantage of my trust and rape me. I never thought it would happen to me. It was far from my mind. I honestly trusted my own intuition that I could be able to know when someone had those dangerous thoughts about me. I was wrong.

Since I was raped I seem to view things differently. I often read between the lines and think more is being said then what was intended. For example: Recently I was on a support forum and another poster commented me by saying to me, "...You are really advanced in my psychological state". When I first read that my initial impression was that this person viewed me as weird. I sort of snapped at them and asked them (verbatim), "What psychological state am I suppose to be in? If I hide my pain, I need to open up more. If I am really open, I am an attention seeker. What psychological state am I suppose to be in"? Later I found out that they meant that I had a good understanding of myself and what I was going through. I apologized to them.

Before I was raped I never would have snapped at someone like that. I always assumed someone was being nice and often misunderstood meanness for playful sarcasm. Now it's different. I first assume the worse and have to convince myself that they are being nice or that what they are saying is a compliment. I am beginning to wonder why my perception of those around me has changed. On the surface it is obvious that I trust less because I was raped, but I think it goes deeper than that.

One of the most common emotions expressed by victims of abuse rather it be physical, sexual, emotional, or any combination thereof is guilt. We are told over and over until our ears bleed that the guilt we are feeling is irrational. Sure it's irrational, we all know how irrational it is. As a loved one of a victim we know it's irrational, and as victims we also know guilt is irrational. Still we all seem to all be in various stages of guilt.

I feel guilty for what happened to me. I can look back on it now and see several things that I could have done differently that might have prevented what happened. I can see all these mistakes, all these things I did wrong, and I am angry with myself for allowing it to happen. I irrationally ask myself questions like. Why did I let myself be tricked by a guy? Why did I let myself be played like a fool by someone who was a D student and has failed a grade before? Why did I get into his van? Why did I trust him when I didn't really know him?

Being so easily tricked and fooled makes me question my own ability to judge and reason. Now I have a burdening guilt that tells me I am unable to trust myself. I am constantly questioning my own decisions and I am afraid I am going to continue to make bad choices that lead to me getting hurt, and further pain for my friends and family. I again know how irrational that is.

We are told that being open about our pain, emotions, and abuse is what will lead to peace. We want that to be true, we want to trust in that so that we can heal. The problem is that opening up to others requires trust, and when opening up requires a very personal sharing of pain, feelings, and events, we feel so vulnerable to judgment. We feel naked and exposed, unable to protect ourselves.

Trust is such a valuable thing that many take for granted. We can take trust in others and ourselves for granted. I took my trust in myself for granted by assuming that I was too smart to be taken advantage of, to be manipulated, and tricked. Now my trust in myself resides in the opposite spectrum. I'm no longer over trusting, but under trusting. I need to get back to a point where I trust myself and then I think trusting others will be easier. The question is how do we learn to trust ourselves more so that we can give ourselves the opportunity to trust others again?

I imagine there's a plethora of ideas, writings, and theories on how this is accomplished. I TRUST that my theory will be simply another opinionated idea.

First, I think we need to make a promise to ourselves that we want to feel better and willing to dance in the fire of our own emotional pain to get it done.

Second, we need to be willing to at least try and trust others by letting them in a little at a time. We don't have to lower the drawbridge to our emotions hidden inside the protection of our castle, but we do need to open the window shutters up so people can peek in. As we become more comfortable with people peeking in through the windows of this proverbial castle, we can then let the door to the drawbridge down a little more. Each time we let another in just a little bit and our trust isn't taken advantage of, we gain the strength to trust more. More than that we gain trust in ourselves.

Third, we need to learn to realize that some violations of trust can be healed from right away, while others will take a significant amount of time. Some trust issues will never be fixed completely. Instead we will have to be a maintenance worker on our own personal highway of trust. In 1941 the US Federal government past legislation to create the federal interstate system. 70 years later it still isn't finished. The reason why is because as the country's population grow, the need for commerce and transportation grows. So the interstate system is constantly being expanded. Also as the years pass wear and tear needs to be fixed. Sometimes entire sections need to be replaced. I think human emotions and trust is similar in the way that it is in a constant state of wear and repair.

If we ignore our pain, lack of trust in ourselves, and others, we will become a road unfit for travel. We have to be both the foreman and the workers of our own emotional interstate system. We have to take charge of the repairs that need to be made, and be willing to get in the mud and dirt with others who are trying to help us and work with them. If we don't, we will find that one day our highway that leads to TRUST is so far beyond repair that it seemingly becomes impossible to get there. Early inspection and repair of damage is the key to keeping our emotional highway of trust from falling apart.

I am Trusting You With My Pain in hope that I will begin to trust my own decisions and intuition. If I can't trust myself, then trust in others is voided out.

Six Degrees Of Chaotic Connection

While I was at school today in my math class the teacher began to discuss something called the Chaos Theory. In short, it's a theory involving mathematics, physics, economics, philosophy, and biology that states that every action no matter how small affects everything else in the world. Sort of like if the world was a pond and the action was to toss a small pebble into the pond, there would be an ever expanding outward ripple from that action that eventually will affect everything in the pond even if it is such a small effect that it goes unnoticed.

This made me think of another theory that I have previously heard of called Six Degrees Of Separation. This theory states that as the world becomes more connected through social networks, clubs, organization, and individual personal connections, we are on average only six introductions from any other person in the world. Basically a person anywhere in the world can be introduced to any other person in the world by six levels of mutual friends or connections.  An example would be - A friend of a friend of a family member who is a member of this club has a co-worker who knows him or her.

These two theories made me think of the long term outward ripples from the actions of the guy who raped me. Not only is my life forever changed but his is ruined, and everyone I have in my life is in some way, even if so small they don't notice, also affected. Everyone is his life will also be affected. Even Great Clips and it's employees where I get my haircut is affected because the guy who hurt me also for some unknown reason cut my hair off and made me a Justin Bieber look-alike. I have a baby in my belly now who will live a life of their own and affect countless others, and the ripples in the pond continue on and on throughout time.

Suddenly I realized how interchanged these two theories are. His actions affected my human connections rather it be personal or organized for the rest of my life. Those ever changing lines of connections that connect one person to another has been rewritten and in a sense grouped and organized differently causing further and further chaotic and ever changing lives for people I will never know exists.

At first I was a little saddened by this because I thought to myself, "Wow, I hate that he has that much power. I hate that his actions can change so many people, things, and events".

As I thought about this, I began to cry in the middle of the classroom. I had tears dancing along the edge of my bottom eyelid keeping step with a drum beat my lip was beginning to produce.

My math teacher who is aware of what happened to me was walking around the classroom peeking over our shoulders at our assignments. She knew I was struggling to hold back tears and she placed her hand on the back of my neck and shoulder to silently console me. Her simple action made me feel better.

We seldom stop to think about how such a small gesture like saying hi to a stranger, complimenting a friend, or giving a hug and a pat on the back to someone who is hurting has the ability to affect someone's life.  We need to realize if a small pebble thrown into a pond can create outward ripples that affect the entire pond, it is equally effective in a positive way when our tiny actions of kindness create the same outward ripple within the Six Degrees Of Chaotic Connection in each and every human life. When we show kindness to another person, they are far more likely to show kindness to others in a continuous outward expanding ripple. So now I ask myself, "Jaime, do you want to sit idle and let his negative actions affect your life in a negative way, or do you want to absorb the negative and create a catalysts for an outward expansion of positive ripples that will eventually affect the world"? Even if those changes are so small that they aren't perceived by someone separated from me by Six Degrees Of Separation, they would still outwardly charge in a ripple and create a change for the good of people I will never meet.

Introducing A Blog That I Often Read (Finding Your Voice Of Truth)

I would like to suggest a blog to anyone who has been a victim of abuse. Finding Your Voice Of Truth is a blog written by a Life Coach, Writer, Truth Teller, Healing Catalyst, Group and Retreat Facilitator, Novice Art Journaler, Business Goddess, , Blogger, Aspiring Screenwriter, Mother, Animal Lover, Wannabe Vegan, and a survivor of childhood abuse named Stephanie Gagos.

I often read this blog for advice and coping techniques. Last night I read the following short blog post on her blog.

The Scream Inside There is a scream inside, one that is waiting to be expelled, waiting to have its day. Life can hit us hard at times. Emotions get stirred up, rumbling inside us without the having the opportunity to discharge.

Pent up rage, fear, grief, swirling endlessly as we make our way through the world with smiles on our faces.

Let go of the scream. Go in your car and scream, lock yourself in a room, do it when no one is home, scream into a pillow several times, go into nature. Find a way to give your scream the privacy it needs to come into being.

Let the sound of your own pain have a voice. Honor the scream inside. You do not have to be silent anymore.

This morning when I finally had the house to myself I let my scream be expelled. I did this in hope of getting rid of stress, clearing my mind, and expressing emotion. I grabbed a pillow off my bed and then went into a closet in the hallway so that my screams wouldn't be noticeable by neighbors. One of the last things I want is a neighbor hearing me scream and calling the police. It would make an interesting story though.

At first I wasn't screaming, I was ranting. I was for a lack of a better word bitching about my mom no longer being alive to help me through this difficult time. I began to complain out loud about the guy who hurt me and how messed up I feel because of him. Before I knew it I was crying and my rants had turned into angry screeches. I yelled some of the worst unladylike words and nearly all of them were directed toward the monster who hurt me. I'm not sure how long the screams lasted.

At one point my angry screams changed to something else. Something I can only describe as pain. My screams morphed into an unintelligible gibberish. My knees shook so bad that I could no longer stand on my feet. I rolled onto my side and curled up into a ball. I had all these images, sensations, and horribly painful body memories surround me. In all honesty it was the first time I truly cried after my rape. I don't mean I haven't had tears fall from my eyes before this morning. There's a huge difference between a few tears and an uncontrolled outward flow of emotions. Again I have no idea how long I lay on my side.

Somewhere along the line my cries stopped and I sat up against the wall of the inside of the closet, while resting my head against the pillow. I fell asleep, and it was a peaceful sleep. It was the most peaceful sleep I have had since September 1st, 2011 which was the night before he hurt me. I feel pretty good right now. Not only physically but emotionally as well.

I don't know if this is something that will help anyone else who tries this. I can only attest to it's benefit to me. 

I officially want to thank Stephanie G from Finding Your Voice Of Truth for so freely providing a blog filled with such useful articles. 

Trying To Gain The Courage To Let My Voice Be Heard In Court

I posted this earlier and then a few hours later took it down because I was worried about people copying this image or triggering people with this image. Mostly I think I was scared. I'm okay now. I have figured out how to disable right click so that people can't save this image. Plus I added an extra caution mouseover function to initially hide the image in an effort to prevent people from accidentally viewing it. Some people might think this post is weird and especially being the image, but this blog and this post is for me. This post is to help make me less frightened to share this personal stuff so that I will hopefully have the resolve to speak out in court. I hope people don't object to this.

The prosecutor of my rape case has made all the evidence they have against him, all of my statements, and injury photos available to me so that I can look over it just incase I remember some events that I had previously left out. I was also told that looking over this stuff may help me know what to say if I choose to make a statement to the court before his sentencing. His sentencing is still a long ways off, but if I want to have the courage to speak in court I need to start thinking about this stuff now.

I have spent several weird and painful hours looking through this stuff trying to figure out what I am going to say to the court. It surprises me how much detail I remember now that I either couldn't recall immediately after all of this happened or simply couldn't bring myself to talk about. I have decided to start working on two separate statements. One statement for if he pleads guilty, and the other for if he retracts his confession, pleading innocent and then is found guilty. It is my understanding according to our family lawyer that I will have the opportunity to give my statement to the court in written form or verbal. I am going to try my best to give it verbally because I think it will help me heal by overcoming my obvious fear to face this guy again. Either way I plan on reading a statement that I have pre-written. As of right now there's every indication that this guy is going to plead guilty so I am first concentrating on the statement if he pleads guilty.

The following is what I am thinking of saying to the court.

.....When asked if I wanted to make a statement to the court I honestly didn't know what to say. I debated with myself rather or not I would be able to speak in front of a room of strangers and if I would be able to let my voice be heard in front of the person who hurt me. Part of me wanted to shut-down and simply be a silent listener who was sitting idle in the back of the courtroom partially hiding behind my dad so that I would feel safe. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I would spend a lifetime being disappointed in myself if I didn't speak up.

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 (assailants name).

Not only did I receive a broken arm, cuts, bruises, tears, and internal damage that required surgery to repair, but I was also impregnated. On top of all the physical injuries, 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. (Assailants name) took something from me during those twenty three hours he kept me captive in his van where he could rape and beat me at his leisure. It's more than 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 only view sex as 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 his 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, but mostly I want (assailants name) to know that I am not afraid of the word rape anymore, nor am I afraid of him.

I come before you 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.

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

As of now this is the statement I have prepared for the court. I pray I will have the courage to read the day he is sentenced. I will prepare a different statement if he pleads innocent and is found guilty.

The Unfair Fight

Most of you have read this already but I haven't posted it into the feed until now.

The Unfair Fight

It was an unfair fight,

a struggle of death and life.
He waged war throughout the night,

I defended him off past the morning light.

No choice was given,

as he to my heart did riven.

Made vulnerable I was for the taken,

why did he choose my soul to be forsaken?

He released the binds,

I into freedom then ran to find.

Although unwillingly I lost to his might,

I had no choice for this war was an unfair fight.

-Jaime

Test Results From The Hospital

Two nights ago I noticed that I was bleeding when I use the restroom. In an effort not to be gross I will simply say that I was bleeding from the back. I have also been feeling really crappy over the last several days. Needless to say I was a little concerned and so was my dad. We went to the hospital and they ran tests. I say tests because they ran more than one type. It will make sense in a second. Both tests have come back.

The reason why I am bleeding is because I have a perforated bowel. The reason why I have that is because of the A@@hole who hurt (raped) me. For anyone who doesn't know what a perforated bowel is... It's basically a tear in the lining of the bowel. Often this tear allows stuff to leak into the gut area where it can cause a massive infection. I am on my way to a massive infection. As a result I am scheduled for surgery to fix the problem Wednesday morning the 21st (tomorrow). I am told they will make two really small incisions in my abdomen and pump air into my gut so that it inflates like a balloon so they have room to work. I am told it's a really minor surgery and if everything goes well I will be home tomorrow night. It's my first time under the knife and I am a little nervous.

There was another thing they tested me for yesterday. They had this test back right away. In fact I knew the results of this test for twenty hours now. It turns out that I am pregnant, and the A@@hole is the sperm contributor. So now I am facing a dilemma. The obvious first question is should I have the baby or not. I'm sixteen, and as much as I like to think I am an adult I am still a kid. I'm not ready to be a parent. My dad along with some others in my life think I should have an abortion. My personal beliefs on abortion are different than my dad's, and I am reasonably sure it is different than many who read this. My personal beliefs simply will not allow me to have an abortion.

Now this leaves me with two options. Keep this baby and raise it the best I can and risk having some sort of resentment toward him or her because of half their genes, or I can seek out a stable family who would gladly and lovingly raise this baby the way a child deserves to be raised. My first instinct is to find the right family. I am worried about becoming attached while the baby is still in me and being unable to let go of him/her.

Although my dad and I are in full shock mode right now, we are also trying to learn what all of our options are and what the legal matters are. I would appreciate any advice people have to give me.

My surgery is scheduled for 7:00am tomorrow. I can't eat for 24 hrs before the surgery. Which means I probably should have eaten more yesterday but I wasn't thinking about food or that I wouldn't be allowed to eat today. I am going to be hungry. I am already hungry.

"God grant me the serenity 

to accept the things I cannot change; 

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference..."

--Reinhold Niebuhr

Evaporating Soul

Evaporating Soul

His piercing eyes burned an eerie red

scorching the landscape of my body.

They saw right into my guarded fears 

leaving my spirit shamed and broke.

His breath was soured with evils scent

as his fangs tore through my defenses.

He must have savored my flesh and blood

for he feasted so many hours.

His fists pummeled away my last hope

branding me in shades of red and blue.

Marks of his dominance on display

serving as a trophy for his pleasure. 

His claws shred through my sense of worth

leaving empty destruction to reign.

My soul dripped off his finger tips

I evaporate into nothingness.

-Jaime

Part Two Of What Happened To Me

When he first closed and locked the plywood door locking me inside that back of his van it was almost pitch black. The only light that was showing was from the distant street light shinning through the cracks of the wooden wall that separated the front of the van from the back. I screamed as loud as I could but no one heard me. He turned a overhead light on and I began to look around for anyway to escape, but there wasn't. I kept begging him not to hurt me. I asked him why he was doing this but he said nothing. He only looked at me and smiled. I again asked him to let me go. I told him if he let me out of the van I wouldn't tell anyone that he hit me.

He stood right in front of me and again he punched me, but this time it was just above my left eye. He hit me so hard. My face felt warm and I instinctively touched my face and then felt blood running down the side of my face and into my left eye. I was so scared. I didn't understand why he was doing that. He grabbed my wrists and lifted my hands up over my head and used handcuffs that were attached to the roof to tie them. He then pulled a knife out and cut all of my clothes off. I kept screaming, trying to move so that he couldn't cut my clothes off but I couldn't move far. As he stood there in front of me, looking at me, his hands kept touching me in so many places and so many disgusting ways. I became angry and I spit in his face. He placed the knife against my throat and told me he would kill me if I ever did that again. He even told me he might kill me just for the fun of it. He put the knife in his pants pocket and then wrapped his hands around my neck and began to choke me. I couldn't breath, his hands were so strong. After several seconds I felt like I was going to pass out and he finally let go. As I struggled to catch my breath through my coughs he hit me in my stomach knocking out what little breath I had left in me. He then placed a dark colored cloth bag, probably a pillowcase over my head.

I stood there crying unable to defend myself or run to safety. I couldn't even see what he was getting ready to do. I heard him laugh at me and he told me that I was sexy. I heard him moving around but I couldn't tell what he was doing. Then I heard the sound, the sound of a zipper. I knew what he was getting ready to do. I knew he was going to rape me and there was nothing I could do to stop him. I felt him lift my feet off the floor by the back of my knees. The cuffs began to tear into my wrists as I hung in place while he forced himself inside me. It hurt so bad. I have never felt something so painful. His thrusts were so violent that I could feel myself being torn. I kept trying to kick him but every move I made caused everything to hurt more. I don't know how long it took him to finish but when he did I couldn't even hold up my own weight. I could feel blood running down my forearms from where the handcuffs were cutting my writs.

He said nothing to me. I heard him putting his cloths back on and him unlocking the pad locked doorway. I heard his van start and then felt it begin to drive away with me still inside. I was shaking so hard and crying so hard, I was in so much pain. I wanted to be home. I wanted to see my dad, I wanted my mom but I was alone with this guy who was so nice to me just a little while earlier. I thought for sure he was driving me somewhere so he could kill me.

I can't share anymore right now.

Ramblings Of An Emotional Wreck

I sit here pondering the thought of explaining more about what happened to me during those twenty three hours that bastard kept me as his plaything in his van. I'm not sure I can do it right now. I have all of these irrational fears that if I do tell more of what happened it will somehow become true, which doesn't make sense because I know they are true, I know they happened. I also have the irrational fear of people thinking I am lying or exaggerating in order to gain some sort of sympathy.

Nearly everything I read, and advice I get from others tell me that talking about what happened is part of the healing path, but how do I walk a path that takes me back into his van. How do I tell people about all the shameful things he did to me? How do I possible explain that in many ways I am still trapped in that van helpless and vulnerable, staring at a wolf gnashing his teeth at me to intimidate me into silent submission? How can I explain that his actions which are so clearly premeditated in nature were unknown to me before this happened? How do I explain that after several hours I gave up fighting and just catatonically let him use my body?

I try so hard to be strong, but I am falling apart on the inside. He took something from me and I'm not even sure how to define what he took. He didn't take it once, he took it over and over and when he got tired he sat down and relaxed while I suffered the humiliation of being naked and on display like I was one of his trophies. I'm laying there unable to get free and he's eating soup out of a can like he's on a camping trip. He would steal a part of me and laugh about it and hold his knife to my throat and make me thank him for hurting me. After about 10 hours I stopped thanking him when he put the knife against my throat. So he put the knife against other places and I and I had no choice but to tell him how wonderful he made me feel by hurting me.

It's all just so shameful, and I want to find a deep hole to crawl into and hide. Again I know how irrational this guilt and shame is. I know I have nothing to be ashamed about, but it hurts. I see him when I close my eyes, I feel him when I am touched, I smell him if I breathe through my nose. It's not fair that he gets to hurt me in my dreams. GOD, didn't he hurt me enough? What did I do to deserve this? I know that's another irrational question.

Body Memories

Recently I have been introduced to a term called Body Memory. Basically it's a hypothesis that the body it's self can store a memory of sorts. It's theorized in times of high stress, mental stimuli overload, or incapacitation where the mind (brain) is unable to keep up with events and properly process them for storage that a body memory occurs. For example a traumatic event such as a sexual assault may cause the brain to overload and go into protect mode, essentially either not storing the memory's details, or burying a memory into the depths of the subconscious mind. It's in these times that the body is believed by some to store its own memory. (I hope I explained that right).

Most (I think) of the events from the Twenty Three hours I was kept in his van I have a memory of. Still I seem to remember a new detail everyday. Often I have a sensation that brings a memory to the surface. Sometimes it's a hug, most of the time it's when I am trying to sleep, and last night it was when I was in the shower.

I have been very uncomfortable when hugging people ever since all of this happened to me. Which is unfortunate because I have always been a hugging person, so is all of my family, and most of my friends. As the people in my life become aware of what happened to me, their natural instinct is to try and comfort me. That's natural, but when someone hugs me I don't as much feel them hugging me as I feel that guy in the van holding, restraining, and controlling me. My dad has hugged me a few times since it all happened and I have these memories return to me and I suddenly feel trapped and as if I am in danger. Even when my little sister hugs me I often get the same apprehension. As a result I have been very aware of my personal space.

Most nights when I try to sleep the same thing happens, but I don't think it's as much about body sensation as it is body position that triggers these memories. I have been spending a lot of nights sitting in a chair trying to sleep upright. Even pulling the blanket up to my neck triggers some bad memories. Most of the time these memories are memories that I have had before and am clearly aware of. Sometimes the memories are of a detail or a 5, 10, or 20 minute event that I had forgotten or blocked.

Last night right before I went to bed to go to sleep I took a shower. I was washing myself and it triggered a memory of his hands. I keep trying to get that sensation out of my head, but it won't leave. It makes me worry about the next time I shower. What will I remember then? Will it be worse? Will I be able to cope? I honestly don't know and I am a little scared, well a lot scared of how I will react.

People tell me that this is all part of the difficult healing journey I have ahead of me. My therapist has told me and many of the articles I have read tell me that these memories are a necessary means to an end. It's all part of the brain trying to assimilate a horrible event into a manageable memory.

On a side note:

I am beginning to form a theory of my own in regards to body memory. Personally I haven't seen anything or heard of any part of the human body that can store a memory other than the brain. It's because of that I believe there's really no such thing as a body memory in technical terms. I think when something so traumatic is happening to us our brain tries to protect us by skipping the processing of what's happening and goes straight to the storage. As a result the memories of these traumatic events are raw in nature and unorganized. My understanding of the way memory works in the brain is that a memory is organized by input senses. Meaning your memory of a person, place, thing, or event might be categorized by smell, sound, color, sensation, and taste. Further each subsequent event that stems off from the original memory is further organized in much the same way. Sort of like a hierarchy of folders in a computer.

With that in mind it seems practical to me that a body memory is less about an actual memory stored within the body as opposed to the brain, then it is a physical sensory of one of the five human senses that bring to the surface an unprocessed raw memory to finally be processed.

Maybe I am way off in my theory, or it is common knowledge to others. Either way I'm just trying to understand what I am going through.

The Beginning Of My Story Of What Happened

I have struggled with the idea of if I should post the story of the 23 hours that this guy kept me prisoner in his van, on my blog. I have posted this short description of the beginning on a support forum but there's a difference. None of my friends, family, or anyone I know in real life are a member of any support forums, and I pray that they will never have a need for one. However, my therapist, family, and friends know about this blog. I guess in some ways it might be easier to post here in text for everyone in real life to read then it will be to explain in words to them one at a time.

September 14, 2011 (Just Now Shared Here)

My friends and I had just got out of school and being that it was Friday we are aloud to stay out a little later then usual. My best friend who's name I won't disclose already has her license and we decided that we were going to go to the mall and hangout for a while. We did the typical things like shop and try on cloths that neither of us could afford to buy. While we were wondering from store to store we ran into a guy from school. I will simply refer to him in generic terms like him, guy, or he. We knew him but neither of us would really consider him a friend, just an acquaintance. Still we was having fun. It was kind of different, kind of new to be hanging around a guy even if he was into the whole grunge look that I don't understand.

My friends and I hung around with each other and that guy for several hours. My friends kept giving me the look. They kept telling me that he liked me. Sure he's a little weird, but aren't all guys. Besides even though I wasn't interested in him at all at first it still feels nice to have a guy pay attention, especially when he's 18 and a senior in high school. I would be lying if I said I didn't have at least a few passing thoughts of being the 10th grade girl with a boyfriend who's a senior. I even had a passing thought of what if we did start dating and it was next year and I would be the high school girl dating a college guy. Sure, I know how silly it is to have even passing thoughts about a guy like that when I don't even really know them.

As it got later and later into the evening we all became a little hungry. We went to Taco Bell to get something to eat. That guy was standing right beside me and asked me what I wanted. I thought he was just curious, but as we walked up to the counter he ordered for the both of us and he referred to me as a lady. " I will have.... and the lady will have....", he said. Again I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel a little special. We all sat down to eat and he refilled my drink and grabbed napkins for me along with hot sauce. He even took the paper wrapper off of my straw for me. I started to like this guy, he was a little weird in the way he dressed but he seemed like such a gentleman.

When we all left Taco Bell him and I was walking behind the rest of my friends. We was bumping gently against each other. It was that gentle physical contact that always seemed to be a flirtatious prelude to holding hands. There's a decorative water fountain in this mall that people throw loose change in. We all stood next to it talking and while I was staring at the fountain I felt a chill because the cool air from the air conditioner vent was right over top of me. That guy was standing behind me and his hands rubbed me on my arms and made the chill go away. For just a second I closed my eyes because it felt so comforting. Here's this older guy who I don't even really know all that well. He is paying attention to me and being seemingly very attentive to my needs. I mean come on he bought me food, he didn't offer to buy for anyone else. He warmed my arms with his hands. We were flirting, it all seemed so innocent and safe and a part of me felt special. Suddenly this weird grunge guy didn't seem so weird.

My friends decided it was time for them to leave to go home. I gave her the look that was meant to ask her to stay a little longer being that she was my ride home. She knew instantly what I meant and she asked the guy if he had a car. She knew he had a car, I knew he had a car. She figured it would give him the opportunity to offer to give me a ride home. He offered, and I accepted.

My dad has always told me to be careful of who I hang around with and especially who's car I get into. I guess I always assumed it would never happen to me. I certainly wouldn't have thought this guy who has spent the last few hours being nice to me would hurt me. It's a strange feeling to look back at this now and see it from the perspective of knowing what led to this happening. Emotionally I look at all the things I could have did differently and my emotional instinct tells me that I messed up for trusting someone I didn't know and getting into their car. My logical instinct tells me that I had no warning signs and that if there were any warning signs I wouldn't have gotten into a vehicle with a guy I barely know. That's the emotional tug of war that I'm struggling with right now. A part of me wants to blame myself for not listening and trusting in the wisdom my dad has always tried to instill in me. The other part is looking for someone to blame and it's like I have this inescapable gravitational field that guilt and blame is using to orbit my existence. Sometimes it feels that my emotional reasoning is slowing down the orbiting speed of this blame and guilt and the gravity is pulling it ever closer.

My friends left and went home leaving me there with this guy. In many ways I was happy to be alone with him. I know it sounds juvenile but I sort of felt like an adult on an adult date. It's silly because we wasn't on a date, we was just hanging out, having fun, and getting to know each other. We walked around the inside of the mall and a few times he made me laugh. Although he wasn't particularly funny I allowed myself to laugh a little more then I normally would have. Maybe I thought if I made him feel cool, he would continue to make me feel special.

I began to think about kissing this guy. I don't mean I thought about initiating it, but simply wanted to be prepared if it happened. As we were walking past the restrooms I excused myself so that I could go in there and get the Taco Bell taste out of my mouth. I always keep those single use toothbrushes in my purse just in case, and this seemed like as good of a time as any. When I walked back out he had his hand behind his back and as I walked up to him he presented me with a single red rose that he had bought from a crafts store while I was in the bathroom. Sure it wasn't a real rose, but it still made me smile and I hugged him. His actions were so sweet and disarming. His actions suppressed my defenses that had always been there to guard my personal space.

As we was walking out to his car I built up the courage to reach for his hand and place mine in his. He gently squeezed my hand in return. When we got to his car which wasn't a car, it was a old van he opened the passenger door for me. He held my hand as I climbed in. I'm so short, only five foot tall and although I have always prided myself in not needing a guy, it still felt nice to be helped. It all felt nice.

Just behind the two front seats was a curtain that was pulled shut. I began to pull the curtain open a little because I was curious, but he was already opening the drivers door and I didn't want to seem nosey. We talked for a few minutes before we drove out of the mall parking lot. He told me that we was going strait to my house which was a good idea because I had to be home at 11pm and it was already almost 10:30. We were a few miles from my house and he said that something was wrong with his van and he needed to pull over and check on things. He turned in to a deserted parking lot and parked. He asked me if I had a cell phone because he might have to call his dad. I blindly handed him my phone. He got out and opened the hood and was looking inside. I reach for the door handle to open it so that I could see if I could help in any way. There wasn't a door handle or a window crank, only an arm rest. This was the first time that I felt any sort of sense of apprehension come over me. Still I didn't think too much of it because after all it was an old van and old cars need to be fixed, right? After a few minutes he climbed back into the van and I didn't see my cell phone in his hand. I asked him if the car was okay and if I could have my phone back. Suddenly everything changed. His voice changed. His mannerism changed and the look in his eyes changed. All the red lights in my head suddenly went off. I didn't feel as safe as I felt before, I didn't feel as comfortable as I did just a few minutes ago. I wanted my phone so that I could call my dad and have him come get me. It was so sudden. I didn't see it coming. I have this one image of him quickly moving toward me, and then the blinding sensation of his fist hitting me just below my left eye. I was so dazed and so confused. I was having trouble understanding and processing what was going on. The first few seconds is still a blur. I felt semiconscious as he wrapped his arm around my neck and dragged me through the curtain and through a doorway cut into a wall of plywood. When he shut the makeshift door and pad locked it trapping me inside with him I screamed. I begged him not to hurt me, I begged him to let me go. When I climbed into his van twenty minutes earlier I had no idea that I would spend the next twenty three hours in that van wondering if I was going to live to see my dad and little sister again.

This is all I can write right now.

(3 days ago)

I have been struggling with how to tell my dad what happened. I mean he knows what happened, but not in any sort of detail. I let him read this about thirty minutes ago then we talked about it. Well he mostly talked while I cried. Most of the words that came out of his mouth were distorted by the tears that were running down his face. He was trying so hard to comfort me, and to be the strong father I needed him to be. I think we were both emotionally overloading and I had to hug him and step away into my room and give each of us some alone time to deal with this.

No Drivers Licence For Jaime

Yesterday (September 15th, 2011) was the day I was suppose to gain my independence through the freedom of a drivers licence. I made the appointment to take my driving test about a month ago. Two weeks ago my life changed because of the selfish actions of a pretend man. After he hurt me I forgot all about my pending driving test until Monday or Tuesday this week. I wasn't for sure if I was emotionally stable enough to get behind the wheel. Quite frankly I'm still not sure. Still I had a fairly good night Wednesday after I chatted with a friend and expressed a fairly high level of anger toward my attacker. I felt okay enough to take the driving test Thursday afternoon.

Dad and I drove to the DMV and as I walked up to the counter so that I could let them know I was there to take my driving test I was told that I couldn't. It turns out that they won't let a person with a broken arm take the test. Their reasoning was because my left arm is immobilized with my elbow at a 90 degree angle because of the cast, I can't safely operate a motor vehicle. Okay, okay, I will have to reluctantly agree with them. I can imagine that using the turning signal and keeping my hands on 10 O-Clock and 2 O-Clock with a broken and immobilized arm would be sort of IMPOSSIBLE. Uhhhhhh. I'm still a little aggravated.

The Truth Crashing In

September 13th, 2011 (just now posted here)

September 2nd, 2011 is the day he abducted me, the 3rd he let me go. The reality of what all he did to me is crashing in on me. I feel like I'm broken. When I first chose my screen name in the few support forums I have joined I didn't mean (Jaime*Is*Broken) as in my spirit was broken. I originally meant it because my arm is broken. He broke it when he had me in his van. Now I feel like I do mean my spirit or mind.

The truth of what happened has crashed in on me and i don't want this truth.

I was looking through pictures of mom and I just started to cry. Mom died in a car accident last year and I really need her right now. Dad came in my room and tried to hug me, hold me. and tell me it will be okay and I snapped at him. I told him not to touch me. I feel like a bad daughter. He just wanted to show me he cared and I keep pushing him away. I can't even explain to him why I am pushing him away because I don't understand why.

My head, arm, wrists, guts, and back hurts. The physical pain won't even go away. I won't take pain meds. I have an aunt who is an addict and I'm not going down that path. My aunt somewhat has it under control but she does struggle with it.

Letting The People In My Life Know My Terrible Secret

September 11th, 2011 (just now posting here)

My dad arranged for the preacher of the church we attend and two friends of mine who attend the same church and go to school with me to meet us at our house after church this evening. They will be here any minute.

Monday (tomorrow) will be my first day back to school since this all happened to me. I am so scared of the questions people will have. I didn't want to try and explain to my friends at school so that's why they are going to be over here tonight.

I'm not sure how to get this conversation started. My friends or people at my church hasn't seen or heard from me since this happened Sept. 2nd. I have been hiding in my house. The church was concerned when me and dad missed a second Sunday morning service in a row and the preacher called. I guess that's another thing that this meeting will be about. I wanted to heal (I mean my bruises and cuts at least) before I returned to school and church. Unfortunately I will have to where this cast on my arm for several more weeks and the stitches (cut) over my eye won't be gone for several more days but most of the bruises are gone.

Can people please wish me luck, because I'm not sure I am going to have the strength to tell them what happened to me. I know I have to though or I will be bombarded with questions from everyone I see at school tomorrow and church members.

A Rude Awakening To A Cruel Life

Sunday September 10th, 2011 (just now posting here)

Before a few weeks ago I never heard of a support forum. I thought a survivor was only a word used to describe someone who lived through an accident or that stupid reality TV show. I am so scared right now. I don't want to keep telling my story to strangers. I am so scared they will believe his lies and think I asked for it then changed my mind or that somehow I deserved what he did to me.

It feels like I can't breathe. I can feel him on me and it...

I think I need someone to talk to who has been through this before. I'm not sure if I can bring myself to talk about it but I know I have to. How can I talk about it if I can't talk about it?

My dad called the police. The hospital ran tests on me and he was arrested. I feel like everyone at school Monday will be able to see how messed up I am. I have to go back I have already missed 9 days. Dad is making me go to school Monday. I am afraid he will be there.

I just don't know what to do. It feels like everything has fell apart. I sound so stupid, I sound like a stupid kid. I am 16, I'm not a kid. What's wrong with me???