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.

Court Order Of Protection (follow up)

This post is actually a continuation of the Court Order Of Protection post I made 2 weeks ago.

Two weeks ago when dad and I filed for a Court Order Of Protection we were given a court date for a hearing regarding this petitioned order of protection. Meanwhile the judge granted me an E.P.O. (emergency protection order) to protect me until the hearing we had today. At this hearing our lawyer explained to the judge the circumstances behind all of this. The judge then required me to explain to him what happened at school with the half brother of the guy who raped me. I reluctantly explained to the judge what happened. Although this all happened in closed chambers being that I am a minor, it was still fairly unsettling. Still I need to get use to it being that in 3 weeks I will be speaking to the court during the sentencing of the guy who raped me.

To make a long story short, the order of protection against the half brother was extended for 18 months. I also found out some more information about the content of the communication between the half brother and the rapist. There wasn't direct threats or even indirect threats made toward me, but the guy who raped me was sharing detailed information about what he did to me to his half brother. The human thing for the half brother to do would have been to tell the rapist that he's sick to be talking about this and break off contact with him. According to what I was told and what the court was told, these communications between them shown a mutual sense of indifference toward my well-being. I think that basically means that remorse isn't being felt by the rapist and the half brother must have been enjoying the descriptions of what the rapist did to me.

My dad made the right choice to take me out of public school and into home schooling for the remainder of this year. Dad is talking about private school for my 11th and 12th grade years. My lawyer, dad, and I have an appointment with the principal of the school I was attending (the school the half brother attends) to inform them of what is going on so that they can further decide if the half brother belongs around other students. My lawyer seems to think that the school board will ultimately remove him from school after he turns 18. I don't know when his birthday is, there's a lot of things I don't know right now. I do know my stress O-meter is maxed out right now.

I was told by the judge that if the half brother has any contact with me I need to call the police immediately and tell them that I have an order of protection against him. The judge said the cops will resolve the situation and if need be arrest him. I also had a concern of my own that I wanted to ask the judge. I asked about my rights to name names or write about all of this in my blog and online support forums. He said in regards to the guy who raped me, I can talk about any and everything I choose to and even mention his name as long as I only stick to the facts submitted in court. Being that I have talked about things that happened to me that never made it into court records, I am going to continue to not disclose his name for the foreseeable future. I was also instructed that there's no law restricting my right to mention the half brothers name, but it would be best to not mention it to keep the chances of frivolous slander accusations to a zero. The short of it is, I will not mention names now or in the future on my blog or forums.

In three more weeks I will face the courts and my rapist for the last time in many years, I hope. In some ways I don't feel like I am ready to speak up in court, but I want so badly for there to be a resolution to all of this. I hope this will be the resolution that I need, in order to start feeling like me again and feel empowered.

My Earliest Memory Of My Mom

As I sit watching Rachel Ray I was feeling the urge to write. My first thought was to write more about what happened to me. There is so much that happened to me that I haven't even begun to think about writing about, but the last few posts I have made had been sort of on the sad side. Instead I want to share some of my memories of my mom. In this particular post I want to share my earliest memory. I think it might be a fitting way to celebrate her.

I'm unsure how young I was but I'm thinking I was 2 or 3 years old. I was drawing a picture on some paper with crayons. I was either drawing a picture of my mom's head and hair or a bush, I don't remember but I do have a very vague memory of a roundish ovalish shape that may have had eyes. It could have been a drawing of the bushes or maybe mom's tomato plants. It hard to say. I remember mom being there on the floor next to me. She was wearing blue clothes, I don't know if it was a dress, pants, or whatever. She was drinking something out of a cup and I wanted some of whatever she was drinking. I don't know if I asked for some or pointed at her cup, I really can't remember. I remember mom pouring some of the contents out of her cup into one of my sippy cups. I took a drink out of it, but I can't remember what it was or what it tasted like. I remember mom looking at me and laughing and the feeling of her hand as she wiped my chin.

I also remember her wrapping a gift. I think it was the same day and very near the same time as the sippy cup memory. It seemed like she spent forever wrapping this gift. I remember the wrapping paper was white. It seemed like she wrapped it, then unwrapped it, and wrapped it again. The memory is very vague.

Many years later when I reached the age where mom needed to sit me down and explain that I wasn't dying because I was bleeding, the whole ovulation deal. We had a long talk and we reminisced about the past, growing up, becoming a woman, and me as a baby. She bragged to me about how cute of a baby I was and the pride and love she felt when she felt me kick in her belly the first time. Somehow we got into the conversation of early childhood memories. I told her about my memory of the sippy cup. She couldn't remember that incident specifically, but she said that I use to make funny faces whenever I would drink some of her tea. I imagine that my memory of the sippy cup and mom laughing was probably because it was her unsweetened tea that she put in my sippy cup. No wonder she laughed, I had to have made a funny face.

I also asked mom about the wrapping paper but my memory was too vague and she couldn't recall what I was talking about.

This is just a few memories of my mom that I can always hold onto. I would love to talk about these memories with my mom again. I miss her more than I can begin to describe.

Anyway, this was my earliest memory of my mom.

A Bittersweet Reminder

I want to explain about one of the things that enhanced my triggering when I was around my family on Thanksgiving. Although many of you know that a few weeks shy of my 15th birthday, May 2010 my mom died in a car accident, but far fewer know that my mom had a twin sister that looks just like her. Thanksgiving day was the first time I had seen my aunt (mom's twin) since before mom died. She was a bittersweet reminder of my mom. It's hard to explain just how conflicting, sad, wonderful, beautiful, and disturbing it was to see a copy of my mom. It affected my dad too. I kept seeing him look at her and smile the same way he smiled at mom, but he would have to turn away from her to keep from becoming emotional. Our family is a hugging family, when we meet people or visit with family we say hello and goodbye with a hug. When my aunt walked up to dad  to give him a hug, I saw dad reach his hand out to shake her hand instead. Like I suspected she would do she ignored the handshake and wrapped her arms around dad.  She then walked over to me and gave me a hug. After she walked away dad stood next to me and I rested my head against him and I swear I could hear his heart breaking. His hands were shaking. Neither of us needed to say anything. We were both thinking the same thing, we felt, heard, and saw mom through her twin.

My mom and dad were highschool sweethearts, each others first love, and each others first. They assumed like anyone who is in love that they will grow old together. Mom's death affected all of us deeply, but in different ways. I lost my mom and teacher, but dad lost his firsts. Last year I heard dad crying a few times when he thought he was the only person at home. I felt so bad for him, but until this morning I have never let him know that I heard him crying. We had a long talk about things and I suddenly realized how lonely my dad has really become over the last 19 months. For lack of a better description I gave him my blessing to date. It's weird that a 16 year old will give their dad the green light to date.

Well, I'm getting off track from what this post was suppose to be about, but I still think I sort of explained the gist of it. In a future post I want to share some of my memories of my mom, I am way too emotional to try to do that right now. I need a hug, I know daddy will hug me and I'm going to go hug him when I get done posting this.

Comforting Darkness

Falling silently into the depths of tearful despair,

feeling so alone, broken, and hidden from joy.

My heart solemnly cries out a yearning plea,

but my voice so mute scampers away to darkness.

I hide within my pain safely surrounded in sorrow,

just a cowardly soul trembling, too afraid to escape.

Broken spirited I sadly rest upon bruised knees,

kept bound inside a never ending nightmare.

Held captive by my own sense of failing worth,

my resolve to heal is becoming withered and torn.

My shattered fingernails both bloodied and tired,

walls surrounding me are scratched, deeply stained.

Curling into a ball I face the solitude of the corner,

my back facing the a world that has been left behind.

I hear distant voices whispering a melody of peace,

but all I know is the comfort of this darkness.

-Jaime

Thanksgiving Day Triggers

Ever since my assault I have been really hesitant and anxious when around groups of people. Still I figured that everyone that would be at our thanksgiving get together would be family and friends so it shouldn't be too triggering. Well, I was wrong.

Only about 1/3rd of my distant relatives that spent the day with us had any prior knowledge of what happened to me. Partially because my dad and I wasn't broadcasting it and also that the news media in my area has been very respectful of my privacy. Several people asked me why I would cut my hair so short. For the most part I avoided the answer. Some people asked me how I was doing, and I felt like I lied to them by replying, "okay". (Note to people unfamiliar with what happened to me. The guy who raped me, also cut my hair really short for some strange reason.)

A few people knew what happened, and they wanted to hug me and tell me how sorry they were. Many times throughout the day someone would pull me off to the side and offer their apologies, and hug me. The thing is I didn't want to be reminded of this stuff, I didn't want to think about what happened to me. I wanted to spend this day with family, and without the constant reminder.

We always eat thanksgiving dinner late in the evening. So by the time we all sat around the table to eat most of us have been visiting with each other for several hours. It seems that during this visiting, the story of what happened to me had made it's way around to most of the people there. People would look at me with their sympathetic eyes obviously feeling sorry for me. That's fine, I feel sorry for other survivors. I just didn't want the constant reminder that day. To make it worse, my family on both sides are religious and it is expected that each person before the thanksgiving prayer tell everyone else what they are thankful for. I was wanting to avoid this because I honestly have been having trouble feeling thankful for anything. Of course someone, I don't remember who, suggested that I go first. I gave the old standby, "I'm thankful for my family and friends".

What happened next I wasn't expecting. As each other person stated what they were thankful for there was a common line in each of their statement, "I am thankful that Jaime Is home and safe".

I have never felt more embarrassed, ashamed, and blatantly put into a vulnerable position in my life. I immediately realized that someone had planned this entire scenario. How else would everyone make the same statement word for word? I understand, I really do understand that they did what they did to show me that the entire family supports me. Maybe it's just me, maybe I shouldn't have felt like I was forced into such a vulnerable position.

After the "I'm thankful for's" and the prayer, I excused myself from the table and went into the bathroom and I tried so hard to collect myself. I couldn't help it, I cried. Every few seconds someone would knock on the bathroom door and ask me if I was okay. Dad soon whispered through the door and asked me if I was okay. I told him I was, but I need a few minutes alone. Dad walked away to rejoin the rest of the family. Everyone was kind of quiet and I could hear almost everything being said. One of the small kids asked, "what's wrong with her". I heard my aunt say that she was going to check on me, then dad quickly telling her to leave me alone for a few minutes. Dad had to tell her twice to leave me alone, the second time I could tell by the tone in his voice that the entire situation and how it made me feel aggravated him. Dad always have looked out for me in every way. My dad is who I am truly thankful for.

It took me about five minutes to compose myself before returning to the dining room. Honestly, if we would have been at my home I would have simply hid in my room until everyone left. I hated walking back into the room surrounded by everyone. I felt everyone staring at me, I could feel their eyes burning holes through my skin. I didn't have much of an appetite.

Dad, my little sister, and I didn't stay too long after dinner. I'm pretty sure everyone thinks I am mad at them. I'm not mad, but didn't it ever cross their minds to not gossip about something so personal to me. Couldn't they imagine that it would be embarrassing to me by making what happened to me the center of attention?

Am I being overly sensitive?

His Haunting Eyes, And My Mask

I get so tired of pretending. I have been trying so hard to heal. I talk and write about my pain and what happened to me like my therapist suggests, and like nearly everyone else suggests. I try my best to remain distracted from my emotions whenever I'm not specifically trying to share them, but they always creep in and take over. I seriously feel like I am losing my mind. I have looked at my reflection in the mirror and I see a stranger looking back at me. I honestly don't know who that person is. She looks just like me physically, but with ugly short hair and a 2 inch scar over my left eye. After 11 weeks the scar is still pink and disgusting. It's more than my physical appearance, it's hard to explain. It's almost like the guy who hurt me has somehow tainted me or become a part of me. I know how ridiculous that sounds and I don't mean it in literal terms.

There was many times while he was hurting me in one way or another that he made me stare into his eyes. He did this under threat of an even greater form of torture. Many of these threats involved 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. He eventually did break arm because I broke eye contact with him too many times but that's a later story. I spent so long staring into the eyes of the monster that I can't remove them from my memory. The memory of his eyes are just under the surface, and just under the surface of every set of eyes that I see, including my own. When I look into the mirror at my reflection I see my scarred face and messed up hair, but worse than that I see the man who hurt me staring back at me. It feels like he is haunting me in the safety of my own home, and the supposed privacy of my own mind.

I need a lobotomy or something to excise the part of my brain that contains his memory. The sad part is that his memory has become such a part of me that I think my entire brain would have to be removed. I just wish there was a surgical procedure that would work to remove a memory, but I know it's not possible and I'm stuck with this memory. One of my friends have suggested that I see a hypnotist, but as much as I love my friend I have to wonder which one of us is the nut case.

I just wish I could forget his eyes and the disturbing delight they seemed to have as he saw tears falling from mine. I hear his voice when I try to sleep, shower, or even sit and relax. I try so hard to keep my mind occupied because that's the only thing that keeps him away from me. While trying to keep myself occupied I sometimes go overboard when trying to help other people. I know sometimes I go too far and people will not even tell me when I do because they are worried they will hurt my feelings. I don't blame them for being hesitant to say something to me, after all, I have threatened suicide before and that is now always ingrained in other's minds. I will say this once again, that threat of suicide was a one time thing. I will never threaten to commit suicide again.

I want to reset my life, but I know that's impossible. I would like to be able to fast forward through this healing process, but I also know that's impossible. I want to be stronger than I really am, I want to be able to take this mask off and let my strength free so that it can protect me. I'm just not sure what will happen if I remove this mask and people see me for the weak person I really, truly, am on the inside. People will probably run away from me with the sudden realization that I'm a lost cause, and they no longer will waste their energy trying to fix the impossibly broken spirit that is me. I guess I will keep this mask on for a while because I can't afford to lose any support right now.

Taking My Driving Test, And A Job Interview

About eight weeks ago I went to the D.M.V. to take my driving test for my driver's license, but they wouldn't allow me to take the test because my arm was immobilized in a cast. Well, I was a little saddened but to be honest I don't think I could have concentrated enough to pass the test anyway. The only reason I went to the D.M.V. then was because I had already scheduled my test prior to my assault.

In about 11 hours I will be going back to the D.M.V. with dad so that I can take my driving test. I'm a bit nervous to say the least. Still, I think I will do just fine. I have been behind the wheel about 6 hours total since my cast was removed. That should be enough practice to pass. I hope. LOL

I also have a job interview at 6pm for a part time job at a small grocery chain called Save-A-Lot. The good thing is that this store is only a half mile from where I live, so that will make it easy to work there even without a car.

Dad said that he would help me get a car as long as I pay for half of it and pay for the insurance, gas, and maintenance. I already have enough money saved up for half the cost of a decent car, still insurance will cost me about $130 a month because of my age.

Wish me luck everyone.

Court Order Of Protection

I found out something very frightening early this morning. The detective who is in charge of my case come by our home this morning because he wanted to suggest that dad and I file for a court order of protection. It turns out the guy who assaulted me and his half brother that I go to school with have been writing each other. Although the detective couldn't or wouldn't discuss the context of their letters, he was concerned enough to strongly suggest that we go to courthouse today.

We printed the paperwork off the internet and filled it out along with a statement from the detective. To make a long story short, the paperwork was then filed with the county clerks office. Because of the nature of this threat the judge temporarily issued a EPO (emergency protection order) that will be in place until after the actual hearing in 2 weeks. None of this means that the guy who cornered me in the hallway at school (half brother of the guy who raped me) is in any trouble, but it does mean that he and his parents will be notified verbally by police that he isn't allowed to contact me in anyway. The EPO does not stipulate a distance he must keep from me because the fact that we attend the same school would make it impossible.

As of Monday I won't be going to school anyway. Dad decided to homeschool me and I couldn't have talked him out of it if I tried. Home schooling isn't something that I want to do for the rest of my school career, but as of now I will be home schooled for the rest of the 10th grade. I hate this because dad doesn't have time to do this. I know he is doing this because he thinks it is best but I hate it. I feel like I have been such a imposition to dad.

I'm also freaking out wondering what the guy who assaulted me and the guy at school were talking about. How did everything get so messed up? A year and a half ago mom was still alive and pretty much everything in my life was perfect. Now my mom is dead from a car accident, and I don't feel safe because of all the crap that happened to me 10 weeks ago and the crap going on right now.

On a side note, I will be seeing my psychiatrist in 2 hrs and I am going to ask her if she can give me a weaker prescription for Ambien than I already have because a 10mg dose knocks me out so deeply that the alarm clock will not wake me up. Most people I talk to say that Ambien didn't affect them at all.

I want the impossible, I want to undo the last 18 months.

How My Body Betrayed Me

This will probably be one of the most embarrassing posts I have ever made and because of how embarrassing I think it will be, it also might be one of the shortest.

This is the first time I have ever talked about this to anyone. I most certainly haven't mentioned it to my dad, I had thought about mentioning it to my therapist but didn't, and I almost mentioned here to a friend previously in one of her posts.

Okay I, uggggh....

After more than 20 hours of being in my rapists van. After more rapes than I care to remember. After more physical pain than I thought I would ever have to deal with. I was past the point where I wanted to give up, and for all accounts I had given up. I was laying there seemingly catatonic and I had already stopped fighting a few hours earlier. Anything he wanted to do to me, I let him. I stopped fighting, I simply gave up.

My rapist, being the sick and twisted person he is, he began to try to stimulate me. It is so embarrassing for me to talk about. He stopped being rough with me and his hands, his vile hands became gentle. I felt two different things simultaneously. At first all I felt was a physically and emotionally numb disgust, the same disgust I had felt most of the time I was in his van. Somewhere along the line of his vile gentleness, and him rubbing the top part of my vagina. I felt the my physical numb disgust separate itself from my emotional numb disgust. My body actually began to betray my emotions by allowing this sick bastard's hands to give me a pleasurable physical reaction. At first I didn't even register what was happening and then once I realized that I was beginning to have an orgasm, I tried so desperately to stop myself. I tried so hard, but my body ignored my emotions, it ignored my will. I couldn't help it, and I gave in, I let myself, and even pined for the momentary relief that an orgasm would grant me. I let it happen, and it did happen.

I have felt dissatisfaction in my actions before, but this feels so much stronger than a simple dissatisfaction. I feel betrayed and violated by myself. How am I suppose to process what happened to me, and what I allowed to happen to me on an emotional level? The man who raped me and violated my body 11 times in a 23 hour period, was also the man who gave me my first orgasm. That's so messed up. I have never been with a guy sexually, intentionally. I have tried only one time unsuccessfully prior to my assault to stimulate myself to orgasm. I realize age has a lot to do with it and that it's very common for me to not be able to have an orgasm at my age, age 16. Still, why did my first orgasm have to be in this way? I feel disgusting beyond comprehension for letting this happen. I should have been able to control my body.

Am I weird? Am I messed up? Am I just as disturbed as the guy who raped me? I must have something wrong with me or I wouldn't be capable of having an orgasm under these circumstances. I fear that I will be scarred for life because of this.

Someone please tell me what's wrong with me.

Part 5 Of What Happened To Me

I'm not sure how long it took for him to finish this particular act of rape/sodomy. I do know it often felt like I wasn't really there. I felt him physically but it felt like it was happening in the background. That probably doesn't make sense. I can only assume I was disassociating from what was happening. In some ways it felt like my brain was recording what was happening but not processing it. I mean I remember the things that were happening to me but it's like they weren't being understood and processed. I have a lot of trouble remembering the events of what happened to me in nonlinear terms. Meaning that skipping from the beginning to the end or to anywhere in between are difficult for me. Maybe a better description of what I mean would be this. With a CD you can push the skip button to play the next track but if you are listening to an audio cassette tape you have to fast forward because there's no skip button. My memory of the time I spent in that van is like one long 23 hour track. If I am going to write about something that happened in the middle, I first need to write about all the things that led up to the middle. This is what makes me think my brain simply recorded the events but didn't process them. This is the number one reason why I'm telling my story in order, because it's the only way I know how.

After he finished this particular act of sodomy he finally uncuff my wrists from over my head. He held me by my wrists with my hands against his chest. He kept telling me to look him in the eyes, but I didn't want to look at him. I just wanted to close my eyes and hope that when I opened them I would be home in bed and that all of this was a horrible nightmare. He said to me, "I told you I was going to make you more comfortable".

He pushed me down on to the air mattress that he had previously aired up and placed on the floor. He then lay down on it behind me and wrapped his arms around me like we just got finished making love. WTF, what kind of sick bastard can punch, rape, sodomize another person and then lay down with them and hold them as gently as he held me? HE PUT HIS ARM UNDER MY HEAD LIKE IT WAS A PILLOW. HE USED HIS OTHER ARM TO REACH AROUND ME AND HOLD MY HAND WHILE HUGGING ME AT THE SAME TIME. HE EVEN KISSED ME ON THE BACK OF MY NECK LIKE WE JUST FINISHED SHARING OURSELVES. For lack of a better description, he cuddled with me like I always hoped the man I would choose to first make love to would cuddle with me afterwards, but we didn't make love, he raped me. He forced himself into me without my consent and then he stole my first comforting cuddle after making love by staining it with his sick and twisted cuddle. I cry thinking about it. As disgusting and as wrong as it was to have him holding me in a twisted lie of intimacy, there was something that he said to me that was far worse. Right before he went to sleep, right before he felt such a sense of contentment that he went to SLEEP, he whispered in my ear, "I love you Jaime".

How do I process what he said? How do I process the gentle feeling and the lie of his arms wrapped around me in a seemingly loving way? I know it was all lies and that his actions were evil and predatory, but for this 30 minute nap/cuddle it felt eerily similar to the ideal physical cuddle feeling after making love. The difference is I was hurting, I was bleeding, and I didn't feel loved, but I did feel hated, used, and empty. I wonder about the future and what will happen if I am ever able to trust enough to get close to someone and make love to them. Will I be able to cuddle with them or will I feel as sick as I felt in the van with his arms around me? Will I hear the words "I LOVE YOU" without it being a constant reminder of what happened to me in his van? I really have no idea. Dad, grandma, my little sister, friends, online friends, and teachers have told me many times since I was raped that they love me. In my heart I know they do, I know they love me but those three words sound like lies. Not only do I have a totally irrational feeling of being undeserving of love, but I also have trouble accepting that the words are true or that they have meaning. I don't know what I'm saying.

During this time when I could feel that he had fallen asleep, I tried to slowly move out from his arms but each time I did his arms tensed up around me and his hand gripped my hand. I had no choice but to lay next to him. I cried and cried in silence as I heard his breaths and felt them on the back of my neck.

I'm trying to put all of this in a timeline of sorts. When I first climbed into his van it was about 10:30 pm September 2nd, 2011. This part of my story took place between 12:30 am - 1:00 am, September 3rd, 2011. I am putting this in a timeline to help me process it. I guess they are sort of like track markers, beginnings and endings of tracks of time as I finally try to process what happened to me in small segments.

A Description Of A Dream/Nightmare

This is one of the dreams that I have quite often, of course there are several versions of this dream but for the most part they are the same. Last Monday while in therapy I brought up the fact that I have been having bad dreams that often turn into ultra real nightmares. She wanted me to talk about them that day but I was feeling really uncomfortable talking about them plus I really needed to talk about the events that happened to me last Wednesday. However I do believe the topic of discussion this coming Monday will be about my dreams. Being that this dream is a description of the dream I had this morning it will likely be the specific one I talk about.

Begin Trigger Warning - Begin Dream

I open my eyes but all I see is darkness. I don't even see the slightest bit of ambient light. There are no shadows, sounds, or sense of anything in this room or place. There's a total lack of sensory input. I can't even tell if I'm standing, sitting, or lying down. There's no sense of gravity or even what's up or down. I can't feel my body, I have no discernible physical attributes and for all accounts I am simply consciousness.

After what seems to be an eternity I begin to feel a physical sensation. It's very vague at first but slowly I feel tingling that feels like it starts behind my eyes and then spreads throughout my body until it reaches my finger tips and toes. Unfortunately the tingling doesn't go away, instead it builds and hurts all over similar to the feeling of blood rushing back into an extremity. Much like the feeling of having a hand or arm that has fallen asleep but 10 times more intense. As this sensation begins to fade I hear scratching sounds that's similar to fingernails on a chalkboard. Long drawn out scratches that move from one location in this pitch black place to another. I hear it sporadically in front of me, behind me, above and below me. It's a sound that's all around but I can tell it's a distant sound. Soon the sound becomes louder and I can tell the source of this sound is moving closer.

I feel a huge sense of nervousness, a sense of an impending danger but I am unable to move. I'm frozen but it's not fear that hold me captive, it's something else. Slowly as the tingling in my extremities fades even more, I can feel myself being stretched in 3 direction at the same time. My hands are grasping one another but even if I released my grasp they wouldn't part. My wrists are hurting, they are burning, they feel like they are in a vise. My ankles feel much the same way but they aren't stuck together, they are pulled from one another.

The scratching sound keeps getting closer and it's soon replaced by a quiet growl and breathing sound. The growl doesn't sound human, nor does the breathing. It sounds predatory, it sounds like evilness stalking its prey. I hear very quiet foot steps slowly stalking me. I begin to feel my weight and can finally discern up from down. I'm lying on my back, the floor is cold and hard. I suddenly realize why I feel trapped, I am trapped. My hands are being held over my head and my wrists are being pushed against the floor.

I smell a stench similar to a dirty wet dog and feel something dripping on me. I don't know what it is or where it's dripping from. Then from above my face I feel a breath, a hot, damp breath that floods my face, nose, and eyes. This room begins to transition from pitch black to that of a late evening. A form, a dark shape begins to become visible overtop of me. I see a mouth with pointed teeth and eyes glowing a pulsating and very deep red. This beast is salivating and it's saliva is dripping on my face in anticipation of it's feast. I look around but there's nothing for this beast to feast on, there's no food, and suddenly I realize that I'm his feast.

The beast growls and howls as it moves over-top of me. I feel it's massive weight and I feel my body being torn into shreds. It's teeth drip with my blood and I can feel myself begin to die. My will to live is diminishing and my soul is evaporating. My own breaths become shallow and labored as this beast reaches into my mouth grasping my tongue, pulling it out just long enough to bite it off. I try to cry out for help but I'm choking on my own blood that's filling my mouth. I cough, spitting a red mix of blood an saliva into the face of the beast. The beast's claw is pointing at me, his claw moves closer to my face. It carves a line down the side of my face, splitting my skin like a scalpel. I try to scream for help but the only sound I make is a gurgling sound. This beast leans in an laps his tongue in and out of my mouth, savoring the taste of my blood. Then it uses the same claw it used to cut my face to tap on my forehead as if it was contemplating what to do next. It didn't have to think long. Its claw entered the corner of my left eye and pried out my eye. With the only eye I had left I seen the beast chew my severed eye and then swallow it. As I saw the same claw coming toward my other eye, I closed my eyelid and began to pray. I kept waiting to feel my other eye be ripped out but it doesn't happen.

The room once again goes silent. I wait, and wait, and wait for any sound, any movement but I hear nothing. I want to open my eye to see if the beast is still there but I'm too scared. I lay there nearly motionless for what seems like an hour. Finally I gain the courage to open my eye. I'm surrounded by 5 or 6 beasts. Each beast is uniquely different than the one next to them. The one that was feasting on me was also there and it must have been the leader. It growled and snarled as if it was telling the other beasts to remain still. Then it stepped backward into the shadows of the other beasts. With sudden viciousness all the other beast swarmed me. Piece by piece I felt myself being torn into chunks and then swallowed.

End Trigger Warning - End Dream

This is when I awake from my dream. I'm usually screaming and covered in sweat.

This is a reoccurring dream that I have had at least a dozen times in the past 9 weeks. I am going to try and talk about this face to face with my therapist this coming Monday. I don't know if I will be able to.

I want this dream to stop, and I would do nearly anything to stop it.

Tripping Over Rocks On A Downhill Slide - A Very Bad Day

Tuesday night November 2nd, 2011 I was having some really vivid and horrible flashbacks. This started early Tuesday evening but continued on throughout the night. These weren't the usual flashbacks where a new detail to the memory of that event came rushing in, these were more like a reliving of the horror I felt on an emotional, spiritual, and physical level. I haven't been able to sleep and I was so tired on this Tuesday, but every time I closed my eyes I felt trapped in the memory of those events. Several times before I went to bed for the night I dozed off on the couch, but I would awake screaming and flailing my arms at the guy who hurt me. The thing is the only people that were there with me would never hurt me. My little sister was freaking out, she was crying because I was waking up so startled. Dad was jumping each time I screamed also. He tried to hold me and tell me everything was okay, but I know he was getting frustrated. At least two times while I was having one of these flashbacks dad tried to wrap his arms around me and tell me it was okay. When this was happening I honestly couldn't see a difference between the monster who's now in jail awaiting sentence and my dad who was trying to comfort me. All I felt was arms around me, restraining me, controlling me, and not letting me free. I fought my dad as if he was that guy, and more than once, more than he deserved, I hit him. This pretty much continued through Tuesday night and into Wednesday morning.

Wednesday morning I was lying in bed staring into the darkness of the room when the alarm clock buzzed to let me know it was time to get ready for school. If I would have been able to sleep I would have ignored the alarm clock and the fact that I needed to go to school by covering my head with the blanket and disappearing. Dad gave me a ride to school and I apologized to him for reacting the way I did toward him during my flashbacks. He told me something that I couldn't get out of my head, something that inadvertently made me feel worse than I already did. "Jaime, you just have to realize that as horrible as it was for you while you were in that van, it is over with now", dad said. It wasn't really what he said to me as much as it was the tired and frustrated look of his face and the sound of his voice. I felt horrible for putting dad and my sister through all of this. They deserve better. I literally hated myself and my life for what I was doing to my friends and family.

While I was at school I was struggling to understand everything that was going on around me. I was so tired and everyone around me seemed to be moving in fast forward while I was nearly catatonic. Very little of what my friends talked about made any sense; even the things the teacher talked about didn't make sense. We had to take a math test that I nearly failed because I didn't even finish it, I couldn't concentrate. My teacher knew I was struggling and although she is normally very understanding she said to me, "I know you're having a difficult time but you need to get past this so that your grades don't get any worse. Good colleges require good grades". I didn't even verbally reply I just nodded my head in compliance.

After class a guy that I know that I neither considered a friend, acquaintance, or even an enemy cornered me in the stairwell. If it would have been a few months ago his come on tactic may have worked, but all I felt was intimidation. He backed me into the corner, he was playing the whole "bad boy" routine. Just being face to face with a guy who I didn't know made me feel uncomfortable, but he also put his hands against the wall on either side of me, blocking my exit. At first I was terrified and I almost screamed. He apparently could tell that I was scared and he asked me what was wrong. I didn't say anything, I just tried to walk away but I couldn't get past his arms. I asked him to move out of my way but he didn't. He asked me if I would go out on a date with him. At this moment I relaxed a little because I realized he was just asking me out and using the whole "bad boy" routine. I guess he thought the "bad boy" attitude would be exciting. I politely told him that I wasn't interested. To make a long story short, he didn't take rejection too well. He called me a tease, slut, tramp, and he even told me that he heard that I was good at opening my legs and letting guys do whatever they want as long as the guy is forceful. By this time there were a few other students that were seeing what was going on and I was able to get out from the corner he had me backed into. As I was walking away I heard him tell his buddy, and I quote, "I guess I have to get my own van if I want to get some of that". I didn't turn around and even acknowledge what he said. He received a laugh from his buddy and someone; I don't know who called him an asshole.

If someone wants to ask me out, they're welcome to but be polite. If I say no, don't take it personally. I'm just not in a place right now where I'm mentally interested in going on a date. Him putting his arms up and blocking me from leaving was bad enough, but him calling me a slut and implying that I'm easy was rude. I have never had voluntary sex, I have only been raped and I doubt that makes me a slut. Even worse the comment he made as I was walking away proved that he knew what happened to me. My best friend in the whole world, a friend that I have known since I was 9 years old when my family moved back to America, she told me that the guy from the hallway was a longtime friend of the guy who raped me. I have personally tried to verify or debunk that information but have been unable to, but it seems logical because some wording that the guy in the van used was the same as what the guy in the hallway used. The guy in the van said to me several times after I gave up and quit fighting, "YOU ARE GOOD AT OPENING YOUR LEGS AND LETTING A FORCEFUL MAN IN".  It wasn't a word for word quote, but the meaning was the same and the wording was close enough to reasonably assume that the guy in the hallway and the guy in the van either knew each other before all of this or have talked to each other since.

I didn't even stick around for the rest of the school day, I asked my friend to give me a ride home. Although she didn't want to leave school to give me a ride home she did, she knew how upset I was. When I got home I sat in a kitchen chair blankly staring out the kitchen window for at least an hour, then I did as I often do to distract myself from myself. I logged on to the internet and there wasn't much happening on After Silence so I decided to signup for another support forum. One of my friends from After Silence is a member of this forum and a different woman I know in real life from group therapy is also a member. Which coincidentally happens to be a woman that I met before all of this ever happened to me? I first met her at a yard sell that she was having. I was looking for a notebook computer and she just happened to have one. When I saw that same woman 3 months later in group therapy I was shocked. Anyway I'm getting off track here. I signed up for this other forum and immediately tried to find her but was unable to, however I did find my friend from After Silence and let her know that I was a member there too.

I immediately began to post, nothing personal about me or what happened to me. It was mostly posts attempting to show support for others on their threads. It always seems to be a distraction from my own issues when I'm trying to help others. One person made a post about wanting to self harm as a means of coping with their own pain. I made a reply where I did my best to show my support for this person. In my reply I mentioned the same method of self harm that the original thread starter had already mentioned. Not too long after I made a reply I received a message from one of the moderators of that other support forum saying that they edited my reply because I mentioned a method of self harm which had already been mentioned in the thread by the original poster. This moderator wasn't rude but it did hit me the wrong way. It was like salt was thrown into my festering wounds. I was just trying to help this person and I didn't use any language or methodology that the original poster didn't already use. I checked my post and saw that my reply wasn't even censored in a smart way, the entire meaning, was changed and it didn't make sense anymore because the entire paragraph that had the word " c u t t i n g " in it was removed.

Between what happened to me in that van 9 weeks ago, my inability to move past this, me driving my family and friends up the wall, what the guy in the hallway said to me, and the feeling of being a failure at trying to help others caused me to snap. I deleted the 8 or so comments that I made on that forum and sent a message telling the moderators to close my account. I haven't been back to that forum since.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR THE NEXT PART

Everything just built up to a breaking point, I was the only one at home and I decided that I didn't want to live anymore. I decided that I didn't want to be a burden to my family and friends. I sat down and began to write a post for my personal blog. While I was writing my post I received a text message from my friend that drove me home from school. She let me know that she got in trouble for leaving school and was given detention. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of vodka that had been sitting in the cabinet for well over a year and began to drink. I don't know if I was trying to drink away my pain, or trying to drink till I died. My memory is a little fuzzy of some of the things for the next several hours. I carried the bottle of vodka into my room along with a gun and finished my blog post with the last few lines reading, (verbatim)

"I'm sorry for all the pain I will cause my family and friends but I can't take it anymore. I have a loaded gun and it is ready to shoot. When I finish drinking this bottle and making this post I am going to use it. Mom I will see you in 30 seconds".

There was more to the post I made but I can't remember most of it. I remember actually looking forward to ending it so that I could see my mom again. After I submitted my crazy blog post I took a few deep breaths and looked at the gun in my hand through my vodka glazed and teared eyes and raised the gun to my heart. Somewhere along the lines my little sister and dad came home. Amie, my little sister burst into my room like she always does and saw the gun pointing at my chest. She screamed for dad and he ran in. I don't remember him taking the gun out of my hand, but he told me that he had to force it out of my hand.

END TRIGGER

Although I don't remember most of the next 3 hours I do know that dad arranged to have my little sister stay the night over one of her friend's house. He also got my grandma who lives in Alabama to temporarily move up here for however long it takes to make sure I'm okay. Dad doesn't think I should be alone. Dad and I talked; well he talked while I cried myself in and out of a semiconscious drunken state. I wasn't even thinking about the fact that I left a post on my blog about hurting myself for the entire world to see. I'm not going to go into details here because I don't think it would be fair. The short story is that at least 3 people who read my blog saw part or all of my post. One of them tried desperately to contact me to find out if I was okay, but after being unable to reach me this person called the police. It's a long story with details that I'm not going to go into here, but I ended up erasing myself from much of the internet. I deleted my blog and email address that was used with my blog. The reason, well that's another story for another time perhaps.

Since that night I have tried to apologize to the people that I scared in real life and online. One of the persons online became furious with me because I made the post about hurting myself and has refused to talk to me. She won't return my emails or text messages. I hope she will see this post and realize how sorry I am for scaring her. My dad has removed all alcohol from the house, which isn't a problem for him since I have only seen him drink a beer once or twice in my life. He has also placed trigger locks on all the guns and locked them in a gun safe. When I was a baby dad and mom had to baby proof the house, now at age 16 dad has to idiot proof a house. I don't feel too good about that. I feel sort of foolish.

I made a promise to a friend Sunday night that I would never try to hurt myself again. I have made the same promise to my dad, grandma, and myself. In an effort to keep that promise I am going to try to be more open about my emotions in hope that it will keep me from reaching that breaking point.

While at school today I reported the guy who cornered me in the hallway. Although I don't think he will get in any trouble for what he said, but in the event that something like it happens in the future there will be a record of it.

I guess that's all I have to say right now.