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."

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

A Hollow Victory

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

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

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

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

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

A Letter To My Rapist

Dear Sexual Assailant,

Why did you enjoy hurting me?

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

Was it all premeditated?

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

Was I specifically part of the premeditation?

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

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

Were you going to kill me?

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

Why did you let me go?

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

Why did you later confess?

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

Are there other victims of yours out there?

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

Do you regret what you did to me?

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

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

What I think of you.

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

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

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

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

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

Sexual Assault Risk - Conservatively Dressed vs. Flirtatiously Dressed

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

Flirtatiously Dressed:

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

Conservatively Dressed:

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

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

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

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

Conclusion:

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

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

Source For Percentages:

Crime & Clues

THE ART & SCIENCE OF CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION

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.

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.

My Earliest Memory Of My Mom

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway, this was my earliest memory of my mom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TRIGGER WARNING FOR THE NEXT PART

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

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

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

END TRIGGER

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

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

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

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

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

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.

10 Phone Calls

Very early Saturday afternoon I started making phone calls to let the 10 adoptive families know how sorry I was for me losing the baby that could potentially have become their baby. It was without a doubt the most difficult news I have ever had to tell someone. Everyone was very supportive to me and none of them gave the impression that they thought I was to blame. Still, there were moments of silence where I knew they felt a huge disappointment and I can't help but feel bad about it. I wasn't able to get in touch with all 10 of them because 2 of them didn't answer the phone and I wasn't going to leave a message on voice mail. Of course they already know about the miscarriage; dad called the adoption agency not long after we got home from the hospital Wednesday and the agency notified them being that they were the final ten.

The majority of the conversations were very clinical in nature where we expressed a sympathy toward one another but didn't invite further conversation. There was one conversation that became very personal and lasted nearly 30 minutes. This woman was very kind and she asked me how I was handling losing the baby. I explained in some detail to her what I was thinking in regards to the miscarriage. Then she asked a question that I wasn't expecting, "What does the babies father think about all of this"? I inadvertently blurted out, "I don't know if he knows and I really don't care".

As you can imagine, this sparked an entirely new conversation. There I was talking to this woman who was wanted to adopt my baby and telling her personal information about how this all came to be. She spent much of the time trying to console me while my brain kept spewing out details I'm sure she had zero desire to know about.

After I got off the phone with that woman, I couldn't help but feel bad for dumping my emotions on her. It was unfair for me to do so. I should have simply told her that the baby's father wasn't a part of my life, but instead I told her stuff that will likely add to her pain. I sort of feel selfish for using her as an emotional release.

I guess I will try and call the other two today.

I'm just trying to hold myself together and not fall apart.

Virgin or Not Virgin

I was recently commenting on another survivor's blog in regards to virginity and how I view it in terms of being raped. I want to explain what my feelings of it are in greater detail here, and ask others what they think about it.

Ever since my mom and dad reluctantly decided to explain the birds and the bees, they have taught me that sex is a very special thing to be shared between loving couples. Sex isn't something that to be shared lightly and without thought. Of course they drilled it into my head that it would be best to wait until I was married but they also taught me the whole safe sex yada, yada, yada.

Because of the way they raised me and how my own personal beliefs have grown as a result of their guidance. Several years ago I decided to wait until I became married or at least in a serious, committed, and loving relationship before having sex. To be honest, I figured I would be in my early 20's, probably about to graduate from college before I became that seriously involved in a relationship.

When I was being assaulted there were many thoughts and fears going through my mind. Although I have thought about virginity and how my assault affects it many times since, I just recently while reading another survivors blog did I realize I had a passing thought of it during my assault. The pressing question is seemingly a simple one. "Am I still a virgin"?

The online dictionary defines a virgin as:

Virgin: (noun)

“A person, who has never had sexual intercourse“.

I guess that's pretty straightforward and clinical. If you have sexual intercourse you are no longer a virgin. The same online dictionary defines sexual intercourse as:

Sexual intercourse: (noun)

“Sex involving penetration: an act carried out for reproduction or pleasure involving penetration, especially one in which a man inserts his erect penis into a woman's vagina“.

With the circumstances of rape and these definitions in mind, I want to propose some questions and answer them according to my own personal belief and understanding. Please by all means feel free to contribute your own personal beliefs in this matter.

Can a person be forced to have sex?

It is my opinion that a person regardless of cohesion or physical control can not be forced to have sex. The reason why from a clinical, pure definition based viewpoint is for penetration to count as sex it has to be for the purpose of reproduction or pleasure. The purpose of reproduction is to bring a new life into the world; and pleasure being to indulge in a form of either emotional or physical gratification. Therefore rape can not be concluded to be sex because it is neither for the purpose of reproduction or a mutual form of gratification. 

If a person is a virgin and then forcefully penetrated during a sexual assault, are they still a virgin?

It is my opinion that a person regardless penetration can not have their virginity stolen from them. The reason being from a clinical, pure definition based viewpoint is because being a virgin means having not yet had sexual intercourse. And sexual intercourse means penetration for the purpose of reproduction or mutual pleasure. As a result, forced penetration can not be the catalysts from virgin to non-virgin.

Clinical definitions and reasoning are fine and direct to the point but in reality an action as vile as rape has an extremely high level of personal connotations. Thus a clinical explanation could never fit the vast expanses and diversity of the human mind and its complicated emotional structure. Each of us has our own personal beliefs and emotions that define for us what sex and virginity are. I will try to explain my own personal beliefs of what constitutes virginity.

I think virginity is far less about the physical act of sex than it is about the willingness of the individuals involved and the emotions attributed to the act.

Ever since I was taught and became aware of what sex is, I have viewed it as an emotional and physical sharing between two people. It’s a gesture and an emotional gift of sorts, thus a first intentional sharing of ourselves with another is what relinquishes our virginity. During the physical penetration of rape, although our bodies and emotions were so violated, our willingness can't be forced, nor can virginity be taken. That boils down to one fact that I need to keep drilling into my head; I am still a virgin in the pure sense of the word. Anyone who was or is a virgin at the time of their rape is also a virgin after the fact.

Trusting You With My Pain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Six Degrees Of Chaotic Connection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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