Showing posts with label sexual assault. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sexual assault. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

I Am Tired Of Being Here

It seems that no matter how much therapy I have, how much I self examine or how much I try to move past what happened to me I can't seem to be happy. I am so fucking tired of waking-up crying, living my daily life crying and going to bed crying. Someone years ago when I was just a little girl told me that we choose to be happy or we choose to be sad. I know that isn't true but it still makes me feel like a failure.

I have begun to understand something about the healing process. We so often have a strong sense of self-blame that causes us to dislike and even hate ourselves. It can be so strong of a sense of self-blame that nothing can alter the way we feel. I know this to be a possibility, and in my case an obvious fact because I literally hate myself.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Part 8 Of What Happened To Me

TRIGGER WARNING

It has been a little over four months since I sat down and wrote anymore of "My Story", the story of what happened to me during those 23 hours I was held against my will in my rapist's van. I'm not sure if I will be able to get much out this time but I am going to give it a try and see how far I get. As always, to the best of my recollection; this part of my story starts off where the previous part ended.

I guess it was around 8:00am September 3rd, 2011. It had been about an hour since he had untied me, and for that hour he hadn't spoken to me, touched me, or for all accounts did anything other than sit there on his cooler full of ice, drinks, and food and stare at me. I lay there on that crappy blow-up mattress and didn't really move at all. In all honesty I felt like I wasn't really there, I felt numb, and as if my mind was separated from my body. I can't remember if my back, legs, and everything else he beat was hurting. I don't really remember what my body felt like. I sort of felt like I was floating above myself and that my body was no longer part of me. Of course now I know why I felt that way. I was disassociating. From what I can tell it was my body's way of protecting me from what was going on. I think maybe I might have been semiconscious and phasing in and out of micro nap sleep cycles. After all I know I was exhausted both mentally and physically.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Question 10 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Question Submitted by M.M. 
Q: Where do you see yourself in 10 years.
A: I am going to break this question up it three ways.
1) Where do I want to be in 10 years?
a: I think I want the same thing most people want, I want a good education, and well on my way to a good career. I want to be comfortable enough in my own skin to be in a romantic relationship. I want to see a possibility of children by the time I am 26 and have 1 by age 30 and maybe 1 more by age 34. I choose those ages because I want to still be in my lower 50s when I see my kids become their own adults.

I want a husband that is strong willed, intelligent, and nurturing to our children and me. He needs to realize that happiness and individuality is important, and that a big house and fancy car are just life's perks and not life's goals. He must be willing to understand what me and other survivors has gone through so that he can not only be supportive, but a cornerstone that an unbreakable foundation can be built upon.

2) Where do I think I will be in 10 years?
a: I think I will be sort of in the same position as I am currently in, too scared to face life, too scared to face strangers, and too scared to consider any type of intimacy. I think I am going to be jumping at every sound that I hear behind me and still running to a safe place just because I see a similar van or someone who looks similar to that guy. I think I will try and fail at a career and end up working at some type of position that an automaton could do so that I won't have to think. I can see myself so stressed out that I am forced to enter in a mental health facility so that the courts believe that I will be safe from myself. A part of me longs for an existence in a hospital where I am virtually catatonic and kept in a semi conscious zombie like state with some really strong drugs. I'm not sure that is a fix, well I am reasonably sure it isn't a fix, but I think it would be better than feeling a constant gnawing pain that makes me want to kill myself.

3) Where do I think I am now?
I think I am going through the motions in a foolish attempt to trick myself into thinking that healing is possible. I think I am in hell trying to swim to shore but each sluggish attempt to swim only pushes me further into the burning lava where is can burn my heart and eyes. I think I am pessimistic instead of optimistic and I am at a loss as to how to fix it.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Part 7 Of What Happened To Me

This part of my story picks up where the previous part left off. This to the best of my recollection and estimation took place between 1:30 am and 7:00 am September 3rd, 2011. I feel it prudent to make the readers aware that this part is likely to be triggering for the following reasons, rape, sexual, and physical abuse.

This part of my story I will describe the most painful thing he did to me. Keep in mind this was the most painful thing he did to me physically, not emotionally. I can't really talk about the most painful emotional thing yet and I have only told two people other than my dad, hospital, and law enforcement. I might be able to talk about that sometime in the future, but I am reasonably sure I won't share it on my blog. Okay, now to the most physically painful thing. Here we go I guess.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Dark Healing Road

Well some of you may have noticed that I have taken more than a week off from writing on my blog. I did that so that I could have some time to reflect on me and the person I am on the inside. That may sound a little weird but with all of the court stuff that was going on over the last several months I have had very little time to just examine myself and my emotions. I was understandably captivated with court and so forth. Now that court is over I have very little legal distractions from my emotions and it is a surreal feeling to now be placing most of my healing energy toward healing. Before December 20th it was all about making sure that my assailant went to prison but now it's just me and my emotions and memories.

The regular readers of my blog know that I have been having thoughts of suicide because of all of these emotions that seemed to have crashed in on me after he was sentenced. Well, I want people to know that although the suicidal thoughts are not 100% gone I have come to understand that I really do not want to die. I just want to feel better.

Over the last week and a half I have been sorting out my understanding of my own emotions. That understanding isn't easy to describe in writing but I am working on it. I was recently given the green light by the investigator in charge and the prosecutor that I can talk about anything that happened to me on my blog. I'm still not sure if I am ready to talk about the worse thing he did to me. It feels like if I admit or reveal what the worse thing he did to me was it will be me admitting and revealing that I am now a freak. At a later time perhaps, I just can't talk about it right now. I tried to talk about it in therapy last Thursday and again this Monday but I just couldn't get the words to come out of my mouth. I will try again tomorrow when I go to therapy since I am going twice a week now.

Anyway, I really don't have a whole lot to talk about in this post but I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm still keeping, on keeping on. I am still trying to heal and I will it's just going to take time. The problem is I artificially convinced myself that I would be all better once he was sentenced, but I know that's not the case in reality. Honestly that's something I always knew but I tried to ignore it. I am ready to traverse these dark roads as long as I can see some light ahead of me. I see a faint light in the distance, but with my short legs it's going to take a while to get there.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

He Was Sentenced Today

Okay, this is what his sentence is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I turned toward this deranged person and said this instead.

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

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

Thursday, December 15, 2011

A Self Interview: (A Therapy Assignment) 10 Questions

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

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

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

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

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

Question - What was the worse thing he did to you?
Answer - I can't talk about that for legal reasons but I do need to talk about it. There's more going on then I can talk about. Sorry that I can't answer that.

Question - How did that make you feel and how do you feel about that now?
Answer - It made me feel like I don't deserve happiness and that no one especially a guy could ever be interested in me. It makes me not feel like a girl and I feel like theirs nothing about me that could ever be desirable.

Question - What was the most painful thing he did to you?
Answer - Again this is a question that I can't currently answer because of legal reasons. I wish I could, sorry.

Question - How did that make you feel and how do you feel about that now?
Answer - It made me feel pain, intense blinding pain. I now feel like I am broken and incomplete. I feel like I am not me anymore.

Question - If there was one thing you could change about what he did to you, what would it be and why?
Answer - It is hard to narrow it down to one thing but if I had to pick one thing it would be that he didn't manipulate me. If he never manipulated me, none of this would have happened and I wouldn't have been fooled into trusting him.

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

Friday, December 9, 2011

Sexual Assault Risk - Conservatively Dressed vs. Flirtatiously Dressed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Source For Percentages:

Saturday, December 3, 2011

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

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.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

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.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

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.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Changes In Me

I have noticed some changes in me, more specifically in my personality and perception of those around me. I think my family and close friends see a difference but they can hardly put their fingers on what those changes are. In many respects I am still the same person I always was. I still have this overwhelming urge to figure things out rather it be how things work, why people do this or that, and why I am the way I am. My therapist has told me that my curiosity is a good thing because it will help me in my healing process by compelling me to self-examine. I guess that makes sense. She has also told me to try not to over-examine myself. I'm not sure what she meant by that, but I'm guessing she's worried that my perceptions of my own inner demons will differ from that of a trained professional's perception.

Below are a few of the changes I have noticed:

Personality:
Some of the changes in my personality include me being less comfortable in front of people. This lack of comfort isn't only in front of strangers but also in front of my close friends and family. It seems like my comfort in front of close friends and family shouldn't have changed; after all my assault didn't change them, but it did change my perception of things. This discomfort causes me to keep to myself in my everyday life. I seldom leave the security of my home and when I do I am so hyper aware of everything around me that I'm unable to enjoy what I'm doing. For example the simple act of hanging out with friends makes me uncomfortable. I don't mean a little uncomfortable, but nauseatingly uncomfortable. I think the reason it makes me so uncomfortable is because I now view outside my home as dangerous and inside as safe and much of the conversational topics seem to be trivial. 

Even before this happened to me I have never considered myself to be an extraordinarily happy person, nor have I considered myself to be sad or depressed. I use to smile but to be honest with you I can't remember the last time I spontaneously smiled because I was happy. Don't get me wrong I have smiled since my assault but it was purposeful and for other's benefit instead of my own. I have described this attempt to give off an impression of a well mental health as wearing a mask or disguise. Essentially I think that's what I'm doing, putting on a show for others so they don't worry about me. It's uncomfortable, tiring, and even nauseating to keep it up for long periods of time. Just the 7 hours I spend in school drains the life out of me and often it discourages me because I feel like I haven't healed and never will.

Perception:
I have noticed that I look at things differently than I did before. I laugh on the inside at things people find important or devastating. Many of the same things are the same as I found important or troubling before my assault. I use to worry about how people I go to school with thought of me, but now I don't care. I use to worry about some very trivial and temporary things like my hair color, split ends, do my clothes match my shoes, and do my shoes match my purse. Now whenever I am trying to hang around my friends I have this urge to tell them to shut up and quit complaining about the zit you have on your forehead or that your parents won't buy you a dress. I get so angry over hearing people complain over stuff that doesn't matter. I have one friend who complains about her mother all the time, but sometimes I want to stop her in the middle of her rant and tell her at least she still has her mom. For once I want my friends to complain about something that matters. I know how stupid and selfish that sounds and believe me I wouldn't wish real problems on anyone, especially not my friends and family.

It just seems like so much has changed in my life and it will never go back to the way it was before when I was carefree. I think going through the assault I and so many others have, can cause us to grow up mentally and emotionally much sooner than usual.

Since I am sort of losing my train of thought and on the verge of rambling on for pages and pages, I'm going to finish this with one final statement.

The fact of an ever moving time disallows us to change what has already happened, however all actions in life rather it be pleasant or disheartening has an innate ability to teach us a lesson about the value of life. It's our responsibility to open our eyes and ears to the lessons that are often costly so that they don't set out to teach the deaf and blind.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

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?

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

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

Monday, September 19, 2011

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.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

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.