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.

I Tried To Kill My Dad

A couple of weeks before Halloween my sister and dad went out to do some shopping. Meanwhile I stayed home because I didn't feel like going out and I had homework so I used homework as an excuse to keep to myself. Soon after they left I did my homework that didn't take long to finish and I fixed me a big bowl of ice cream and sat down and watched some TV. As usual there was nothing good on, and being that it was October many of the movies were horror movies. While flipping through the channels I came across a movie that I think was one of the many Texas Chainsaw Massacres. The small segment I saw had girl who looked to be 19 or 20 years old who was being chased by a guy wearing a human flesh mask made from her boyfriends own flesh. Needless to say I changed the channel rather quickly. After flipping through the channels a few more times I gave up on the TV and decided to go ahead and take a shower and settle in for the evening.

My Seven Day Fasting Project - 168 Hours COPLETE

Seven days ago I set out to fast for 7 days with the intention of it maybe giving me some answers to the question of if I want to live, die or whatever, but within a day or two this turned more into a science experiment for my biology class on the effects of fasting on cognitive abilities. Now that the experiment is complete, all the data is collected, all that is left to do is compile the information into a conclusion that I will be able to present to the class and the teacher. As usual I completed my cognitive degeneration test.

The results are as follows:

My Seven Day Fasting Project - The Beginning

Today at 5:30 pm was my last meal for the next 7 days. I ate two slices of pepperoni pizza totaling about 1000 calories. For the next 7 days I will only consume water. Every 12 hours beginning 5:30 on the 21st of October I will complete 20 simple math problems that are 2 numbers, 3 digits. There will be 5 addition problems, 5 subtraction problems, 5 division problems, and 5 multiplication problems. I will time how long it takes me to perform each group of 5 and test how fasting affects my cognitive ability. I realize this isn't exactly scientific, but the test just give me an excuse to starve myself for 7 days.

On a side not the real reason why I am doing this is because I am looking for answers. Not scientific answers but the answers to the question, "Do I want to live?" I figure 7 days of fasting will trigger a self preservation instinct in me and answer that question for me. I'm not saying that I will starve myself to death or kill myself by other means if that self preservation instinct never kicks in.

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.

May 26th - What Could Have Been

This is a weird time for me for several reasons, but the main reason that comes to mind is because of what the next seven days represent. It represents what could have been and what would have been coming to an end for me and beginning a new for someone else. The more I think about it the more it sort of boggles my mind and leaves me feeling empty. It's that empty feeling that I am having trouble wrapping my head around.

May 26th, 2012 would have been a very difficult day for me. It would have likely been the most painful day I had ever known and it would have likely been one of the most emotionally trying day. May 26th, 2012 which is only one week from today would have been the due date of the child I lost while I was in a restroom at school. It would have been the day I would be VOLUNTARILY handing over my parental rights and responsibility as a parent, to someone I entrusted to do the job I think I am/would be too young to handle. It would have been the day I gave birth to a child who's biological father is in prison and will be their for more than 26 more years because he is a rapist.

The Mayonnaise Jar and Two Cups of Coffee

I saw this and I thought I would share it here because I like the message of it. I got this from this Facebook Page - (Impossible 2 Possible).

The Mayonnaise Jar and Two Cups of Coffee

When things in your lives seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

A Mother's Love

Today is the 2 year anniversary of my mom's death, I wrote this as a message to her.

A Mother's Love

She was so young, only seventeen
tears of pain streamed down her face.
Her breaths were deep and labored
while her flesh tore and bled.

A few years later the insidious two's
would drive most to patience end.
Her loving heart, ever so forgiving
chased me around to keep me safe.

Return To Therapy - And A Memory Of A Bad Day

Sometimes things don't seem real. It feels like my life is a dream that I am unable to awake from. A dream that is keeping me trapped and held prisoner in my own angry, painful, tearful, and never ending sludge of a memory. I am really scared and I have no idea what I should do to feel better. I have tried everything but nothing works.

I started seeing my therapist again on Thursday. Although I know that she isn't judging me in a negative way because I stopped seeing her for 4 weeks, I still feel like she sees me as a failure. Of course I am smart enough to know that it isn't her that sees me that way, it is me. The way I am feeling is the epitome of a double standard in that I would never think that another survivor is a failure if they were in my exact shoes. So why do I KNOWINGLY judge myself so egregiously incorrect? If someone who was in my shoes told me that they feel like a failure I would tell them that there is so much empirical proof that shows them to be an amazing success, but when it comes to telling myself the same things I REFUSE to accept it.

Random Rant

My life sucks, and that's about all I have to say.

I have deleted my blog about 7 times and brought it back up, I don't know why I keep doing that. I don't have the courage to make any meaningful posts anymore, nor do I have the courage to delete it for good. I don't even have the courage to keep going to therapy. I haven't been to therapy in 3 weeks. I just don't know why I even try... It is all pointless...

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.

Question 9 (Therapy Assignment)

Question submitted by an anonymous poster.

Q: In light of all this, have you given up completely on the idea of ever having a sexual relationship? And if not, why not?

A: I have never been interested in a sexual relationship, not because I think it is gross or something like that but because I am 16. Now after this happened the thought of any form of sexuality that I am involved in gives me the willies. Even something as simple as kissing would make me uncomfortable. I think kissing would sort of feel gross now because of the fact that it will remind me of what happened to me and at this point in time it is hard to ever assume that I could separate the nasty feeling of that van from any future relations. Does that mean that I am planning on never being in a relationship? Nope. Sometime in the future I want to have at least 1 child and I think I would like to have a husband.

Have I given up on the idea of a sexual relationship? Nope, but I never really had thoughts of a sexual relationship. I think as long as I continue therapy and keep myself surrounded by good supportive people I will eventually be able to handle a sexual relationship, and just maybe view it as something good instead of just a necessary thing for me to be involved in a relationship. The only way it would be off the table is if I can't heal from this.

Fork, 911

Last Thursday wasn't a good day. It wasn't just a day absent of good, but it was a bad day. I guess I should be use to it by now being that all of my days are bad days. I want all of my online support friends to know something, I have been lying to all of you. I'm not really sure why I have been lying. A part of me believes that if I lie to myself enough by telling myself that I am going to get through this I somehow magically will. A part of me is also scared that I will hurt others so I lie. I tell people that I am okay, but even worse than that I pretend that I am okay. I put out this totally fake persona that is literally meant to deceive everyone around me so that they don't know the truth. I will get to the truth later in this post perhaps.

I was sitting at the lunchroom table at school last Thursday next to a few people I get along with. I don't want to call them my friends because that too would be a lie. If I said I had any genuine friends at my new school I would be lying, I only have people I get along with. Everyone else around me was talking and eating their lunch, but I was just staring at the ingredients label on the back of my single serving milk. Like everyday at school I was simply wishing I wasn't there. I kept fumbling with a band-aid that was on my left wrist from where I accidentally burned my wrist on a skillet when I was cooking supper the night before. It wasn't a bad burn by any means, but it was a little tender and felt a little uncomfortable against my sleeve. One of the girls that was sitting at the table with me noticed that I was messing with the band-aid and she asked me, "What happened? Did you try and kill yourself?"

I didn't reply back, I pretended that I didn't hear her. I pulled my sleeve down over the palm of my hand to cover the band-aid hoping that she would just shut-up, but she didn't. She said to everyone else at the table, "Look, Jaime tried to kill herself."

No one at my new school knows what happened to me, so I guess i can assume that everyone's actions are out of ignorance. As soon as she lied and told everyone that I tried to kill myself, some laughed, one wanted to know why I would do that, and another one asked to see my wrist. I don't know why but for some reason I showed everyone my wrist. I guess I thought they would see it's just a band-aid and let it go. The band-aid goes across my wrist, not up and down. The same girl that began the whole ordeal then laughed and said, "Look, Jaime is too stupid to even do it the right way."

I understand that she was just trying to be funny and she had no idea of what I am dealing with, but it just hit me the wrong way. I picked up my half full milk carton and poured it on her notebook that she was studying out of. I then said (verbatim), "Bitch, I know how to kill myself if I want to kill myself. I know to cut my wrist lengthwise so that the bleeding will be harder to stop."

I then opened my purse and pulled out 4 bottles of prescription medication and said, "Even if I didn't have a knife which I have plenty of at home, I could down a few dozen of any combination of these and that might do the trick. If I wanted to be sure that my attempt to kill myself was successful I would jump off the overpass to the interstate and let an 18 wheeler run me over, that would do the trick."

I pulled my sleeve up and ripped the band-aid off my wrist and then asked, "Do you want to see me bleed? You must want to if you think suicide attempts are so funny."

I grabbed my fork off my lunch tray and jammed it against my wrist and dragged it up my arm leaving four bleeding scratch marks about eight inches long. "Is that enough blood for you?"

Again I dragged the fork up my arm making myself bleed even more. I did this five or six times before a teacher grabbed the fork out of my hand and escorted me to the front office.

As you can imagine this caused quite a stir, but it wasn't like I had a knife that could actually cut me. The only thing the fork could do was make scratches that bled a little, not even enough to warrant any medical attention. The school called my dad at work and told him that there was an emergency and that he needed to come to the school right away. The school dean and counselor was treating this as an attempted suicide and they actually called 911. So now there is a policeman standing in front of me, a fireman EMT, and a priest (being that I go to a catholic private school). Dad comes running in the front door just after he ran past a cop car, ambulance, and fire truck in the parking lot. I can only assume that dad assumed the worse walking in. Dad looked confused because he saw that I was okay. Long story short my dad filled them all in on the fact that I am having some emotional issues while I just sat there. He didn't go into detail, he just told them enough so that they knew I was in therapy. They suggested that I leave with dad and talk to my therapist before I return to school.

Thursday's are my normal therapy days so dad and I went home and then left home at 2:30 to take me to my therapy appointment. As you can imagine the things that happened at school became the subject of discussion in therapy. My therapist kept asking me question about how I felt before all of that, how did I feel when that girl made those comments, and how did I fell as I was scratching myself with the fork. The truth is when I was scratching myself with the fork it felt good, the pain felt good. I felt like I deserved the pain and I felt like I was getting what I wanted. I explained that to my therapist and then she asked me, "What are you thinking about as you look back at what happened at school?"

I didn't even think about the answer, I simply blurted out, "It would have worked better if I had a strait razor."

So now everyone at school thinks I am suicidal, my dad thinks I am suicidal, my therapist thinks I am suicidal and has asked my dad to keep a closer eye on me. More than that, I think I am suicidal. That's the truth, but that's not the scary part. The scary part is that the realization that I am suicidal doesn't scare me. Shouldn't it be freaking me out? In all honesty, I am somewhat calmed by the thought of my own death. I also realized something; the only reason why I haven't killed myself is because I don't want to hurt the people who foolishly care about me. I don't care about me, but I do care about others. I just wish I knew a way to convince people what I already know, THAT I AM NOT WORTH CARING ABOUT. If I could convince them of that truth, I could bring my pain to an end, I could cry my last tear, and I could leave those painful memories behind.

I guess I am just being stupid and the douche bag of a busy body whore from school was right. I just wish no one cared about me so I could do what I need to do to end this pain.

Update: March 7th, 2012 - 5:30 pm

Since people think I am going to kill myself or over reacting I just thought I would add this last part.

Just because I am suicidal doesn't mean I am so stupid that I will kill myself.

Question 8 (Therapy Assignment)

Question Submitted By BradDavisDude.

Q: How has this whole tragedy affected your trust in men and do you think you will be able to trust men enough to date again?

A: In general terms it has affected my trust in men, especially at first. I think it is because my assailant happened to be male and because men are nearly always so much more physically stronger than me. It makes me feel vulnerable to be around men. I don't want people to misunderstand me, I don't think all men are dangerous or that all men are willing to rape. I have simply acknowledged that with the vast majority of men, if they made the choice to hurt me, I am physically less able to defend myself because I am not as strong as a man. That realization makes me cautious and I imagine that extra caution will be something that I have for the rest of my life.

A: I think I will be able to date again, but with me it really isn't dating again. I have never really been on a date in the first place. So I guess the question is do I think I will be able to date men in the future. The simple answer to that is yes, however the reality of it is a little different. I think a traditional meet and date scenario is less of a possibility. What I mean by that is that I would not do the whole blind date thing or go on a date with someone that I don't know. There is two exceptions to this rule. If a trusted friend knew this person, or we went on some double dates. Other than that I think I would have to become "REAL" friends with a guy before I was able to trust them enough to go on a date with them where I could potentially feel vulnerable and alone.

Eventually I do want to go on dates, I want to marry, and I want children, but more than that I want to trust myself and others so that those things are possible. Until I learn to trust again, dating is simply impractical. Of course I do have to admit that part of the process of learning to trust again may involve putting myself in situations such as a date where I feel vulnerable so that I can then face my fears. I just know I'm a long way off from there, and I have trouble foreseeing a time when I will be there.

Immediately After My Assault - The Hospital

I am going to describe the 16 or so hours immediately after my rapist released me so that others who make the choice to report their rape can know what to expect. Please keep in mind that I am not going to give a step by step procedure simply because I don't remember the details.

When I was released I wasn't simply shown the door that led to my freedom. Instead he drove me to the street in front of my house and opened the side door to the van then pushed me out onto the ground. I wasn't given the chance to put my clothes on and was shoved out onto the ground naked. In all honesty I didn't know where I was at as he drove away and when I fell on solid ground I was surprised. He told me several times that he was going to throw me into the Ohio River and let me drown, and I believed him. After I fell to the ground I stood on my hands and knees for a few seconds and waited for him to finish me off. Instead, I heard his van drive away and I turned to look just in time to see him drive around the corner several houses down the road. Suddenly I realized he was gone, I was free, and still alive. I began to look around and it dawned on me that I was home, that was my house no more than 100 feet away. I picked myself up off the ground and ran into the house where dad and my little sister Aimee was sitting on the couch. I screamed for my dad as I burst in through the door. I have never seen my dad get to his feet as fast as he did, and the way he took charge was somewhat comforting. Dad grabbed a blanket that we keep on the back of the couch and wrapped it around me and then he told Aimee to go into my room and get some clothes for me to wear. The first thing dad said to me was, "Everything is going to be okay now". It was also the thing I needed to hear the most at that moment. Dad and Aimee had to help me get my sweat pants and t-shirt on because I used the last bit of strength I had left to run into the house.

Dad didn't ask a lot of questions as he drove us to the hospital. I didn't think much about it at the time as to why he wasn't asking questions, but I was glad that he wasn't. I don't think I could have answered any questions in the immediate few minutes. I think dad only asked one question and it was, "Are you okay?" When I started writing this I couldn't remember what my reply was or even if I made a reply, but I asked dad about it and him and I talked for several hours. Dad said that I didn't give a verbal answer, nor did I nod my head. Dad said that I signed the word "no". I only know a few words in ASL (American Sign Language), "no" is one of them. Dad on the other hand knows ASL because some of his family is deaf. I sort of remember dad calling the police, but the memory is kind of clouded. Dad told me that he called 911 and told them that he was on the way to the emergency room because of an assault and severe injury. They wanted to know the nature of the assault but dad didn't really know how to answer but he told them that the police needed to be there.

There was a nurse with a wheelchair waiting by the emergency entrance when we pulled up. I was wheeled into an examination area where the only thing separating me from other patients was a network of curtains. The nurse began to ask me what happened to me, but I was unable to get any words to come out of my mouth. I don't remember dad saying this, but he told me today that he told the nurse that I may have been sexually assaulted. I do remember the nurse asking me if I was sexually assaulted, and I sort of remember nodding my head yes. Dad told me that the nurse told him that we would be moving to a private examination room. I don't remember her saying that, but I do remember being wheeled into a room that had four walls and a door, it was a private room, and it was the first time I remember feeling the slightest bit safe in more than 23 hours.

A different nurse who is specially trained to talk to sexual assault victims came in and asked me if I was sexually assaulted. She said I had to tell her "yes" or "no" so that they could know how to proceed. "YES" was the first word I spoke after he released me. The nurse asked me if I was filing a report or just needing medical attention. Dad told her that the police have already been called and that they were on there way. Out of all the things I remember one of the most vivid memories I have from the hospital is the sound of dad's voice as he was answering questions for the nurse. Most of the questions at this point were routine and consisted of my name, age, medical history, etc. Some of the other questions were, "Was you raped? Do you know who raped you? How long ago did it happen? Have you showered or bathed since the rape? I had trouble answering these questions. My mouth simply refused to work, but somehow I managed to answer. Dad's voice cracked while he was talking to the nurse. She asked dad to step out into the hallway with her for a minute. I looked at my dad and he knew I didn't want him to leave. He grabbed my hand and told me that he would be right back and then he walked out with the nurse. I have really good hearing and I could hear what the nurse was saying to my dad. At the time I was a little angered by the nurse for telling my dad that he needs to be strong, he needs to hold it together, and he needs to be brave for me. It felt almost as if she was scolding dad because he cared about me. I know now that the nurse did the right thing. She knew that I needed dad to be a solid foundation for me so that I could be strong. My dad told me when we was talking about all of this last night, when I was writing this that he struggled to keep himself together. I knew he was emotional that night but he seemed far stronger then than he described himself to be.

The nurse needed us to give consent to perform evidence collection. We both gave verbal consent and signed a consent form. After signing the paper she repeated to dad and I several times what we were giving consent to. She explained that they were going to collect DNA samples from fluids in my vagina, scrape my fingernails for skin, take pictures so they can document my injuries. She told me that this was going to be a long procedure and that it will make me feel very uncomfortable. She wasn't lying, it seemed like it took forever, and I felt so exposed, but it wasn't as bad as it was in the van. I knew I was safe, and dad being with me really, really, really helped. I couldn't have done it if he wasn't there.

After the consent forms were signed the nurse left to go get the evidence collection kit. A detective who works with sexual assault victims walked in and began to ask me question. He asked many of the same initial questions that the nurse asked. As soon as he realized that I knew my attacker he wanted as much information about him as possible. I gave the detective the name of my attacker and told him that he what street he lived on. It must have taken me 10 minutes to get just his name and where he lives out of my mouth. The detective didn't waste anytime getting that guys information out to other cops who then tried to find him. By the time my rape examination was finished, my attacker was in handcuffs. It would be the next day before I knew he was arrested.

Evidence Collection:

The first collections they gathered was semen samples. They collected several samples, I guess to make sure they had a viable sample. They then documented all of my injuries in written form and with a camera. Every time the camera clicked I wanted to scream. Every time my hospital gown was lifted or lowered, I cringed and wanted to disappear. It was a horrible experience but it was a necessary one. They took dozens of pictures of all my injuries while simultaneously evaluating my injuries. They didn't treat any of my injuries until after they collected all the evidence. That makes sense because I imagine they wanted to make sure they didn't taint the evidence. After the physical evidence was collected I had to give a much more detailed account of my attacker and what he did to me while the doctor and nurse were actually treating me for my injuries. After about 4 hours they had all the pictures, samples, and statements and they could actually start to clean me up and treat my bigger injuries. I had an x-ray done on my left arm, ribs, wrists, jaw, and head.

While waiting for the x-rays to come back I was given stitches for all of my cuts, and was hooked up to an IV. They wanted to make sure I was re-hydrated properly. I was also given something for anxiety and some pain medicine that pretty much knocked me out. I don't remember too much for the next several hours. Dad told me that I was sort of like a zombie. The last clear memory I have is the doctor injecting something into my IV line and him telling me that it will make me very sleepy. About 3 hours later I was becoming aware of what was going on around me and I was lying in bed in a private room. I had a cast on my arm and several bandages. Dad was still there with me and so was grandma. She drove 5 hrs to be with me. Aimee (my little sister) was at home with my aunt.

I stayed in the hospital for the next 10 hours I think before I was released. It was late Sunday evening when I finally got home. It had been more than two days since I felt the comfort of my home and I was glad to be home. Dad has so many questions, so did Aimee and grandma but they didn't press for answers. I was too scared to be in my room by myself and as much as possible I stayed in the living room with dad.

Over the next few days dad looked through the literature the hospital counselor had given us and he found a therapist for me to talk to. I spent more than 3 weeks waiting for the wounds to heal, and the bruises to go away. I began my blog before my bruises were gone, I guess I needed a way of venting without using verbal words. I guess this is all I have to share right now. This was harder to write than I thought it was going to be. It's going on 4am and I have to be up for school in 2 hours. I might skip school, I'm pretty sure all I would do is cry anyway.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference."

Question 5, 6, and 7 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Question Submitted by M.M.

Q: Since your assault, what has been the most meaningful/helpful thing that someone has said to you?

A: It is so hard to find specific things that people has said to me that has actually helped and I think it will be different for everyone. One of the more persistent feelings I have had since my assault is the feeling of stupidity. Me being so easily manipulated has done so much more to harm me in terms of self-esteem than anything else. This causes me to blame myself, more specifically it causes me to call myself stupid. I tell people I am stupid all the time, sometimes it is directly or jokingly. I call myself a retard online when I make mistakes, and in my real life when I mess up on something I call myself a ignorant bitch. I know I shouldn't do that and I try not too but it still happens. I have noticed that I go out of my way sometimes to prove to others that I am not stupid, I guess I am hoping that I will believe it if I am told enough times that I am not stupid. So I guess the most beneficial thing is for someone to not tell me that I am smart, but treat me as if I am not stupid. Telling me I am smart or not stupid I don't think matters because I seldom believe people more than I believe myself. I am my own worst critic and I trust my negative opinions of myself while simultaneously distrusting any positive opinions.

Question Submitted by M.M.

Q: What is something you have longed to hear someone else say to you since your assault but that you haven't heard yet?

A: That is simple on the surface but not so much in reality. The only thing I want to hear that I haven't heard is, "It's okay, it was just a bad dream".

I know that's not going to happen and I know if someone did say that they are more nutty than me. I don't think there is anything "Realistic" that I have longed to hear, I have thought about this for over a week and there just isn't anything. There probably is something that I need to hear but I don't know what it is, but that might be because I am too retarded.

I think validation of what I am feeling and thinking might be the things I want to hear the most, but the problem is I want to hear the bad validation along with the good validation. When I say that I am stupid I secretly want people to agree with me so that I can futilely convince them otherwise. I think it comes down to me wanting the right circumstances so that I can feel as if I am not responsible for my ignorance, sort of like it is a handicap. I know it doesn't make any sense.

Question Submitted by M.M.'s husband.

If you could travel anywhere in the world, where you would you go and why? This is a question from my husband (he is in town visiting); he does not read your blog but knows about you through your correspondence on my blog. I hope you don't mind that I submitted a question from him.

A: Well this question has some unrealistic answers and some realistic answers. Unrealistically I would like to go to heaven to be comforted by mom. I know heaven is sort of outside the world but I said it was an unrealistic answer. More realistically I would like to go sightseeing and visit the 7 wonders of the ancient world and to actually see the original US Constitution, not the facsimile that people so often see. I think Japan (Tokyo) and Australia would be on my list as well.

Question 4 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 4 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question Submitted by misfitspartan.

Q: In what ways has your attack strengthened or bettered you and your life?

A: Damn, this is a loaded question. I'm sort of at a loss as to where to start. I guess I will start with did my assault better my life. The simple answer is "NO", but if I examine my assault with hopeful eyes in terms of years from now I would have to say that my assault will better my life. I am a true believer in the phrase, "Knowledge is power." Although I trust less now than I use to, I am also less naive. I know bad things happen and that I am not immune to it. I always thought that things like this would never happen to me, it always happens to someone else. Now I know the truth and that truth is that anyone can become a victim at any time. I have also learned of numerous resources that I not only can use to help me but I can help others. I guess that sort of comes back to knowledge. So yes, my assault has bettered me because among the chaos, pain, mental despair, and heartache there is a possibility of a bright future for me driven by knowledge that I can share.

Has my attack strengthened my life? I think I am compelled to look at this question much the same way. In immediate terms I do not feel strengthened, I feel weakened and broken, but when I think about the possibilities of a brighter future years down the road I have to admit that my assault will strengthen me. I think there is some truth in the phrase, "What doesn't kill me. only makes me stronger." I believe with time and effort I will have the strength to help others in a more personal way. It will be a type of strength that I normally wouldn't have access to if I had not been a victim who became a survivor so that one day I can become a thrivor.

This question reminds me of a question that came up either on a support forum or a chat room. That question is (verbatim), "If you could give up the knowledge and strength you have gained and the knowledge and strength you will gain, would you choose to change the past."

At this point in time there is very little that I wouldn't do to change the past and make it so that none of this had never happened. In the future I might be less willing to give up any knowledge or strength I have gained. It is even possible that my life could be changed so much for the better that in time I could even refuse to change the past even if it were possible. I think a lot of it will depend on how much of an impact my future will have on my betterment and knowledge, and how well I am able to share that knowledge and betterment upon someone else who needs it. As of right now I have trouble imagining that I can heal and much less make a difference in other people's lives.

Question 3 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 3 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question submitted by Wabs

Q: How does the relationship with your family (father, sister, nanna) feel now, then before this happened? Do you think your reaction if this had not happened be different to what it is now?

Q: "How does the relationship with your family (father, sister, nanna) feel now, then before this happened?"

A: My relationship with my family in some ways feels closer and further away at the same time. For example I know without a doubt that I can go to my family with anything now. I know that there's nothing that is so big hat I shouldn't go to them. Before I knew I could go to them but there was always a thought that some things are too big. We are closer in a lot of ways in terms of a supportive family structure but we also seem more separated in terms of emotional pain. They support me, but they don't really get what I am going through. They try to but it is impossible unless they have had a similar experience. I am glad they don't understand because it would kill me if they really understood.

Q: "Do you think your reaction if this had not happened be different to what it is now?"

A: Sure it would be different. My reactions toward someone else would be supportive but I wouldn't really understand what they were going through. If it were a stranger that this happened to and none of it would have happened to me, I would have felt bad for them and supported them but my thoughts would have moved from them not long after reading or hearing about what happened. I think a part of me would be asking the same question I ask myself. I would want to know why that person got into that van. I would be thinking to myself that she made a bad decision. I wouldn't blame her because it wouldn't be her fault but i would acknowledge to myself that this person could have made wiser choices. I think that's one reason why I am so hard on myself, because I am judging myself like I probably would judge someone who would be in my situation. Please don't misunderstand me, I would never blame the victim even if I had not been a victim myself. However if I had not been a victim I would have blindly made the assumption that I would have been too smart to fall victim to that kind of manipulation. Again, this is one reason why I am so hard on myself.

Question 2 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 2 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question submitted by Author Unknown

Q: How do you think others saw you before your assault, and how do you think they see you now?

A: (before) I think others saw me as the typical teen girl just a little weird.

A: (after) Now I think people view me in different ways, it depends on who they are.

My Dad:

I think he views me with as much or more love than he did before my assault. He also thinks of me as more fragile. I am pretty sure that he has lost trust in me to make the right choices in life, after all I made the wrong choice to get into that guys van. I went against dad's wishes and took a ride with someone I didn't really know. Worse than anything, I think he sees me as a non-virgin.

My Little Sister:

I don't think her opinions have changed all that much except for one thing. I think she stopped viewing me as invincible.

My Extended Family: (cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents)

I think most of my extended family view me much the same way dad does. I am sure they are as dumbfounded as I am as to why I would get into his van. I'm sure they are wondering if I have some sort of mental deficiency that disallowed me to see the danger before my eyes. I think all of them think they would have seen the danger if it were them instead of me. I know for a fact that some of them look at me as broken. During Thanksgiving I overheard a family member (my grampa - mom's dad) tell his brother, "I don't think she (me) will have a normal life now."

My Friends:

I honestly think most of them think I am stupid.

My Online Support Friends:

I think most pity me and feel sorry for me so much that they have the need to lie to me and tell me that I am brave. I think most of them care deeply for me. I think a few of them think I am making all of this up and they are just itching for me to contradict myself or give enough information that they can use to prove me to be a fraud. I think many of my online support gets tired of supporting me and thinks to themselves that it is pointless. I think many of them get frustrated and would walk away and concentrate on their own healing if they thought I would be safe from myself.

Question 1 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 1 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question submitted by Author Unknown

Q: How did you see yourself before your assault, and how you see yourself now?

A: Before my assault I never really thought about how I see myself. I think I thought of myself like an average person who just wanted to go with the flow of life. I never really considered myself to be a pretty person or an ugly person. I do think I was a nice person and a fairly astute person.

After my assault much of my opinions of myself and others have changed. I am a far less trusting person of others and myself. I always think that there is some sort of motive behind people's actions even if they are nice or kind actions. I see myself as damaged and unworthy of happiness and wonder why anyone would want anything to do with me. Many times I am confused as to how someone can even bare the mental pain of even looking at me.

Some people think I am smart, wise for my years, attractive, insightful, brave, and inspirational, but I often think these people are nuts because I don't even come close to seeing myself in those ways. I see all the mistakes I made that night and how I was manipulated and I feel stupid and foolish. I hear people call me brave and I laugh on the inside because I know how messed up I am on the inside and I can't believe that people can't see the real me, the broken, tainted, and disgusting me that could never be an inspiration to anyone.

Sometimes, more often than not, I wake up literally hating myself. Sometimes the thought of my own perceived failures make me sick to my stomach. Many times I want to punish myself for my failures and for perceiving my life as a failure. I have punished myself before. Some people cut, but I punch or scratch myself. The scratches are always on a place that I can cover with clothes. Most of the time the bruises are hidden under clothes as well. Sometimes I have to use make up because I have hit myself in the face hard enough to swell and bruise.

Basically I see myself as highly messed up and to the point of no return. I still try to feel better but it isn't easy. I have lost most of my ambitions to become someone in life. The really funny part is I still have the same goals but the reasons behind the goals have changed. I now what to prove myself wrong and that I am not a failure, but I am secretly wanting to prove that I am a failure because I don't even realize that I am not a failure. I'm pretty sure there is some sort of psychological term for a self reinforcing delusion. Knowing that there is a term like that makes me see myself as a bigger failure because I fit the bill by merely writing this last paragraph.

I seem insane because one of the definitions of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I try to heal and it doesn't work. I do this over and over and hope that one day there will be different results. That seems insane to me.

Another Suggested Assignment By My Therapist (STEP 1)

My therapist loves to give me assignments where I self examine my own emotions, and to be honest I like them too. Don't misunderstand, I hate the flood of emotions and pain that can come from these assignments but I do really like how these assignments help me understand myself. Here is the assignment, it is similar to the self interview I posted a couple of months ago but with one major difference. In that self interview my therapist was the one who gave me the questions, but in this interview the regular readers of my blog are the ones who get to ask the questions. Here is how it is suppose to work. Each person who reads this and has a question they would like to ask me, all they need to do is ask it in a comment bellow this post. As the questions come in I email them to my therapist and she approves them. I'm not 100% sure why, but she wants to approve them before I answer them. Once 10 approved questions has been asked I will answer these questions in a new post.

Here are the rules: (per my therapist)

People can ask more than one question, but as much as possible take turns asking them so that the questions are being asked by more than one person. Preferable 10 questions by 10 people but realistically I am hoping for about 2 by each person since I only have about 5 regulars on my blog.

The questions can be about anything as long as they aren't solely meant to satisfy some sort of morbid curiosity.

The questions should be personal in nature so that they force me to self examine.

I am given one and only pass on any of the 10 questions that are approved.

Once 10 questions are approved I have up to 1 month to answer them.

As a each question is asked I will email that question to my therapist and she will approve it or reject it. I will let each person know if there question was approved.

Let the questioning commence, and remember, the quicker I get the questions the quicker I can get them approved and begin them.

Physical Therapy - A Futile Endeavor

Wednesday after I got out of school I went to my therapist. Most of you already are familiar with the fact that I have a therapist for my emotional issues that stem directly from the PTSD I have from my assault, but the therapist I went to Wednesday was a different kind of therapist. This therapist is a physical therapist who is trying to help me regain dexterity with my hands.

Cheiralgia Paresthetica is a type of nerve damage that can happen in the wrist. It is generally caused by the sensory branch of the radial nerve in the wrist being compressed. Some of the most common causes of this compression is wrist restraints. Handcuffs under normal lawful use have a bad reputation for causing a temporary and even prolonged neuropathy in the wrists, hands, and fingers. Cheiralgia Paresthetica can also be caused by any item that is wrapped tightly enough around the wrist that it pinches the nerves that go to the hand. It is very common for those who have been restrained for extended periods of time in situations reminiscent of hostage situations where the captor has little to no concern for the well being of their hostage. In many cases after the action which is pinching the nerve is removed, the negative effects of the nerve damage dissipates over a few minutes to several weeks with the use NSAIDs (aspirin and naproxen sodium), but sometimes it requires physical therapy.

The symptoms are somewhat different with each person being that the nerve damage is seldom the same from one person to another, however they do have some common attributes. Some of the common symptoms are numbness, tingling, burning, and a general lack of sensation in part or most of the hands and fingers. The symptoms I have is numbness in the back part of my hands, side of my thumbs, and index fingers. I also often have a burning sensation in my fingertips and palms. This often makes it difficult for me to type, write, or any other task that requires dexterity.

Immediately after my assault being that my assailant kept me restrained for most of the 23 hours that he kept me, I had severe debilitating numbness and marginalized dexterity in my hands and fingers. Over time much of the coordination has returned, but a good portion of the numbness, tingling, and burning is still there.

I have seen a physical therapist once a month since all of this happened. Wednesday was the fifth time I had a session. Unfortunately, my therapist told me that being that the damage to my wrist occurred more than 5 months ago and I still am having symptoms, the likelihood of a full recovery is next to zero. That kind of bums me out a little. I use to be able to type pretty good, but now I am slow because I can't always tell if I pushed the key. I never really had good penmanship, but now it really sucks.

Between the physical scars, nerve damage, and emotional scars, I just feel broken. I'm tired and discouraged and feel like giving up on everything. I don't mean I feel like giving up on life, I just mean that I feel like giving up on me. I don't really feel like I have the energy or desire to heal on an emotional level. It's almost like I have grown to believe that there really is no point behind putting myself through all of the emotional pain in order to heal because I will still be broken physically. I know how retarded that sounds because there are so many people who have much worse physical damage than I have. I really don't know what I'm saying. I guess I'm just tired of trying and trying and not feeling like I am getting anywhere.

I wish I could sleep, I think that would help. The lack of sleep is really getting to me. I am really beginning to have trouble concentrating on anything, it's like my mind is in a fog. I have tried so many different things to help me sleep but nothing works unless I double or triple up on the medication. Drinking alcohol helps me sleep, but it's not like I should be doing that, and much less on a regular basis. The only other thing that works is time, because after several days with no sleep, I crash. I get so little sleep that I have been asked to take a drug test because my therapist assumed I was on meth. I thought that was funny and insulting at the same time.

I'm just tired and need a vacation from being me.

A Weird And Lucid Dream

I had a weird dream last night. Of course weird and disturbing dreams for me isn't all that strange, but they have seemed to become more prevalent since my rape. The weird thing about this dream is that I knew it was a dream the entire time. Before my rape I usually knew the dreams I was having was just a dream and I could consciously manipulate the path of the dream. Since my rape my dreams have been more like a horror movie that I was unwittingly cast to act in. The dream I had last night was different, I knew it was a dream and I was writing the script in my head as it went along.

Okay, the dream starts out with me sitting in my car while it's parked in the driveway. I was crying but I don't know why. I was pounding the palms of my hands against the steering wheel. I backed out of the driveway and began to drive to school, but on the way to school I decided that I didn't want to be in school that day. While driving up to a stop light I thought to myself, "Turn Green", and the light turned green. I thought that was strange, but didn't pay much attention to it. Rain drops began to bounce off the windshield, and I thought to myself, "I wish it was warm and sunny", suddenly the clouds disappeared and the sun warmed everything up.

My car in real life is a silver Mazda Miata, in my dream it was also a silver Miata. While driving with the sun shinning I wondered what my car would look like if it was Cherry Red, and suddenly my car changed fro silver to cherry red. I realized at this point that I was dreaming and I was in charge of my dream. I must have went through a dozen colors for my car before I stopped with purple, my favorite color.

Traffic was coming to a stop and at first I was just going to use my imagination and cause the traffic to disappear or cause my car to fly over top of the traffic, but I am a curious person and decided to see what was going on. I saw that a person had been hit by a car and they were lying on the pavement. As I got closer I could see that it was a man, even closer I could see that it was a young man, and yet closer I could see that the person lying motionless in a pool of their own blood was the guy who raped me. I couldn't help but laugh and have a crazy sounding giggle come out of the depth of my soul. The whole time I was fixated on his dead body and I wasn't paying any attention to anyone else around me, but suddenly a homeless guy began to wash my windshield with some dirty water and newspapers. I politely asked him to stop, but he turned to me and I realized that he was also the guy who raped me. I turned to look at the cops who were working this traffic accident and all the cops were also the guy who raped me, but they were wearing cop uniforms. It was the same way with the EMS workers, Firemen, other drivers, and the person walking their dog. They were all the guy who raped me.

Me realizing that this was a dream, it didn't freak me out all that much. I drove away and a few miles later I stopped to get gas. While filling my car up I also put the convertible top down so that I could enjoy the sun shine. I continued to drive in no particular direction. Eventually I came up to a truck stop and parked my car. I watched several trucks enter and leave and I wondered to myself what would it feel like to drive one of those 18 wheelers. I figured it was my dream so I got out of my car and walked up to a truck that was parked and opened the door then climbed in. The funny thing is that driving the truck didn't feel any different than driving my Miata.

I drove for miles and miles and then I had a strange idea cross my mind. I thought about finding the guy who raped me and running him over. It didn't take long to find him. Everywhere I looked there he was. He was the milk man, meter maid, construction worker, stock boy gathering grocery baskets, other drivers, people cutting grass, basically he was everyone else. I began to rundown every version of him I could find. This truck I was driving was awesome, it just kept going and going. I could plow right through other vehicles killing my rapist who was inside of them. I plowed through yards, houses, stores, businesses, and any other thing that was between me and him. I left hundreds of miles of destruction and bloody versions of his broken body strewed around.

After a few hours I became sleepy or tired of driving and I went back to that truck stop. I parked the truck where I found it and then got into my Miata and began to drive home with a feeling of satisfaction and vindication. I turned the radio on to my favorite country music station and sang along with all the songs. Suddenly the music was interrupted by an important emergency message. The message verbatim, "Everyone need to remain in their homes. We have a lunatic in an 18 wheeler riving around running people over for no apparent reason. We have two thousand, three hundred, and twenty three confirmed dead, many of them are women and children".

I realized at that point that I had only imagine that all of those people were my rapist, and that I had run over all of those innocent people. I started to cry but my sadness didn't last long. I knew this was just a dream and I chose to change my dream and make all of those people my rapist.

Another emergency message came on the radio and said (verbatim), "It seems like we were misinformed. There wasn't 2,323 individual victims, there was only one victim that was ran over 2,323 times by the same person. The firemen and EMT's are in the process of collecting the leftover body parts".

The music began to play again and I started to sing again. The song that I was singing to was by Martina Mcbride, called Happy Girl. I awoke with the lyrics to that song going through my mind.

I told ya, it was a weird dream. LOL

Happy Girl lyrics

I used to live in a darkened room

Had a face of stone

And a heart of gloom

Lost my hope, I was so far gone

Cryin' all my tears

With the curtains drawn

I didn't know until my soul broke free

I've got these angels watching over me

Oh watch me go

I'm a happy girl

Everybody knows

That the sweetest thing you'll ever see

In the whole wide world

Is a happy girl

I used to hide in a party crowd

Bottled up inside

Feeling so left out

Standing in a corner wearing concrete shoes

With my frozen smile

And my lighted fuse

Now every time I start to feel like that

I roll my heart out like a welcome mat

Oh watch me go

I'm a happy girl

Everybody knows

That the sweetest thing you'll ever see

In the whole wide world

Is a happy girl

Laugh when I feel like it

Cry when I feel like it

That's just how my life is

That's how it goes

Oh watch me go

I'm a happy girl

And I've come to know

That the world won't change

Just 'cause I complain

Let the axis twirl

I'm a happy girl

Oh watch me go

I'm a happy girl

Everybody knows

That the sweetest thing you'll ever see

In the whole wide world

Is a happy girl

Oh, yeah

Oh, yeah

I'm a happy girl

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.

Indiana Senate Bill SB 4, Anti Sex Trafficking Bill

Lawmakers are working to toughen and close loopholes in Indiana's human trafficking law. SB 4 provides that recruiting, harboring, or transporting another person to participate in sexual conduct by force, threat of force, or fraud constitutes human trafficking. Among other provisions, the measure provides that a person who recruits, harbors, or transports a child less than 16 years of age with the intent of engaging the child in forced labor, involuntary servitude, prostitution, or sexual conduct commits promotion of human trafficking of a minor, a Class B felony punishable by six to 20 years in prison. The bill has already been approved by the Senate by a unanimous vote and speedy action is expected in the House to ensure passage before this year's Super Bowl in Indianapolis. According to committee testimony, human trafficking is estimated to be a $32 billion industry worldwide, affecting nearly 12.3 million adults and children, making it the second largest crime business in the world. Unfortunately, human traffickers are expected to be among the 100,000 people due to gather in Indianapolis for this year's Super Bowl as previous host cities have experienced a spike in this type of criminal activity in the days surrounding this event.

Unfortunately, the Indiana Congress is unable to pass this much needed bill because many of the law makers are purposefully not showing up to do their job because they don't like the potential results of the "Right To Work" bill that is currently up for vote in the Indiana Congress. They are purposefully not showing up at their jobs, the elected positions they were voted into so that there isn't enough members present to vote on the "Right To Work" bill. This means that no bills can get passed during this dereliction of duty. If they disagree with the "Right To Work" bill, fine, vote no, and get on to doing their jobs that we elected them to do and get SB 4 passed to help protect children, men and women from sex trafficking.

CONTACT YOUR INDIANA CONGRESSMAN

An Angry Rant Of Revenge

I have been feeling really angry lately. I don't mean a little upset I mean ANGRY. I feel as if I am looking for things to be angry about. Although I do feel justified in my anger I hate that I have anger in me. An angry person isn't the type of person I want to be. Let me explain just how angry I am. If you are a very sensitive person or someone who is unable to just view my rant as an expression of anger instead of a threat of violence then you probably shouldn't read any further.

Begin Angry Rant -Trigger Warning-

I look back at all the things my assailant did to me and I am furious. I am disappointed in myself for being so easily tricked, but I am beyond angry with him. There are many times that I want retribution for what he did to me. Scratch that, I want revenge, retribution is what I am getting by him being in prison. It isn't enough. I want to hurt him the way he hurt me. I want him to feel the same pain he made me feel. I want to tie him up in helpless ways and shove things into him until his flesh is torn. I want him to cry out for help that never will come. I want to see tears fall down his face and hear his teeth grind in pain so hard that he breaks his own teeth. I want to use a belt and beat him with the buckle end of it until he is bleeding and scarred. I want to have the strength to twist his arm up behind his shoulder blade and keep twisting on it as he cries and until it cracks as the upper part of his arm snaps. I want to use a pocket knife to cut him down their. After he has given up fighting I want to beat him, piss on him, shit on him, and then kick him out onto the middle of the street naked and broken. Scratch that, this is my fantasy, I want him to die in this fantasy. I want to march him to the landfill and put bullets through his head and let his body be eaten by the crows. I like to feed birds.

End Angry Rant -Trigger Warning-

I don't want to be this angry. I don't want to have such awful thoughts about hurting someone even if they deserve it. I feel like I am losing my mind and I feel like I am turning into a person I don't want to be. I don't want to be evil or have evil thoughts. These thoughts of hurting him scare me. They scare me because they comfort me. That's messed up. I am insane, I really believe it.

A Survivors Bill Of Rights

A woman in my support group wrote this and I thought I would share it here. It sure would be nice if it was like this.

Preamble To A Survivors Bill Of Rights

We the Survivors of any form of abuse or assault in order to create a more just environment for healing, emotional support, peace of mind, and mental tranquility establish A Survivors Bill Of Rights to secure the blessings of happiness, emotional liberty, and survivor kinship for all survivors.

A Survivors Bill Of Rights

1) People shall make no negative interpretations of who is or isn't a survivor, nor shall any negative judgments be unduly placed upon the shoulders of a survivor.

2) A well intent support structure necessary for the security of a survivors emotional well being shall not be infringed.

3) No survivor in time of crisis or any other time shall have the undue burden of dealing with their emotions by themselves.

4) The rights of a survivor to secure their own peace of mind, cry out for support, and lean on the shoulders of others shall not be violated.

5) No survivor shall be pressured to answer any questions of others they don't feel comfortable answering or talking about. Nor shall any survivor be compelled by ones self or others to engage, read, or contribute to any discussion, conversation, or subject which that survivor isn't ready or chooses not to engage in.

6) In all criminal prosecutions the survivor shall not be put through an unfair, unjust, and cruel cross examination from the courts, prosecution, or assailants family and friends. Further all survivors shall be treated with the utmost respect, courtesy, and comforting manner by all parties involved and the accused shall be restricted from verbal, visual, mental, and physical intimidation towards the survivor.

7) In all cases in which the prosecution of the assailant has been deemed justified and found the assailant guilty of the crime of physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, sexual abuse, and/or rape, the survivor shall have the right to legal recourse and monetary compensation for pain and suffering, emotional distress, and reimbursement for any and all expenses as a result of medical, emotional, and mental well being rather it be temporary or ongoing. Further the courts shall enforce this compensation under penalty of further imprisonment of the assailant.

8) Excessive questioning, stress, and invasive examination shall not be imposed upon the survivor in a cruel and uncaring way.

9) These survivor rights shall never be misconstrued or improperly used to limit the rights of that survivor or other survivors.

10) The rights of a survivors personal information, privacy, and circumstances of their assault shall not be trampled upon or unfairly reported and scrutinized by the media rather it be in print, in digital format, on the radio, or on television.

The Ratification of A Survivors Bill Of Rights of all the survivors in the world, shall be sufficient for the Establishment of this Survivors Bill Of Rights. This is done in this forum by the Unanimous Consent of the Survivors present the Sixth Day of September in the Year of two thousand and eleven and of the well being of all survivors of the world. We have hereunto subscribed our Names,

Julia

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.