My Rape Survivor Story: Here. In My Head.

When I was 15, I was at a party at a friend's house. I went to sleep in her room, and a little later a senior from my high school came in and covered my mouth and held me down and raped me. I waited until my friend came up and fell asleep and then I showered. I turned the water on as hot as I could because I felt so cold inside and I scrubbed and scrubbed because I felt so dirty. I think I was in there for well over an hour. With my skin red and hot and raw and pruny I was still soiled. Today as I'm sitting here, 4 1/2 years later, I still don't feel clean.

I never really forgot about it. He and his friends were cruel to me, to be sure I never told. Still I pushed it in the back of my mind and tried to move on. I changed...I would do whatever I could to not draw attention to myself. I wanted to kill myself. I would walk home from school with tears in my eyes wanting so much to never have to face anyone ever again.

I was 15 years old. I had never been kissed. I barely had breasts, for godssake, and he raped me? Why did he rape me? I don't care to know, but that question will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I want so badly to hate him. He not only raped me, but he killed me as well. Everything innocent and new in me was replaced by cynicism and bitterness. I miss who I used to be so much. Sometimes I think that part of me isn't not dead, she's just hiding in some deep corner and she's scared of being hurt again. I want to find her. There was so much good in her, and I'm scared that without her there's no good in me. He affected me in every way, to the core--emotionally, physically, spiritually. But I still can't hate him. What did someone do to him to make him do this to me?

"i watch me be this other thing and never know
if I'm marooned o'er where the purple people go"

When my parents told me we were moving, I was glad. I was determined to forget, and I did. I never repressed it completely, but my rape become something that wasn't a big deal. It happened, it was over, and I was fine. I really think I was okay for awhile.

I never spoke of my rape to anyone again until last year at college. At my darkest hour a few months ago, when I was really ready to end it all, Tori Amos helped me through it, not just with her music but with RAINN as well. I finally told two of my friends a week before we all went home for summer.

It's killing me inside. I'm so sick of it being the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I think of when I go to sleep. I don't want to cry myself to sleep anymore. I want to be able to sleep all night without a nightmare. I want to be able to go on a walk alone without a panic attack. I want to believe that not all men are rapists. I need to believe that sometimes people have sex when it isn't rape.

Some days are okay; some aren't. I'll be fine, but then the rape suddenly hurts more, suddenly I can feel him and smell him and hear him. I'm all alone. I know I'm not all alone, but I'm still all alone.

"no one's picking up the phone
guess it's me and me
and this little masochist
she's ready to confess"

Days like today are hard. I feel so alone right now. I need someone to hug someone to tell me it's okay. It's not fair. I hate that we live in a world where there are classes on rape prevention for little girls but none telling little boys not to rape.

I'm finally in therapy. I will get through this. There's no way in hell I'll let him destroy me. I'll never, ever forgive him. But I do need to learn to forgive myself for letting him destroy me, at least for a little while. It's so hard to pick up the pieces and try to put them together, and I thank you for helping to give me the strength and courage to try.

I'm finally reaching the point where I am nearly healed from the rape. Not, not the rape - my rape. It's time to own it. I'm not ashamed of what happened. I can talk about it without crying. I don't think about it every day. I still have my bad days, days where the thought of having to get out of bed and put on my happy face is devastating. But I've made it through the hard part, and I finally realize that we can heal from what happened. It takes time, pain, tears, anger, frustration, fear, and sadness, but we can make it.

The process of healing has been a hard one. I find myself consistently amazed at how much I have changed and grown. I have learned so much about pain and empathy and love in the last six months. Sometimes I push myself too hard. I race ahead of myself and have to struggle to keep up. In two months I went from having told no one to having told the world. I don't regret that. By joining RAINN's speakers bureau and sharing my story I realized just how strong I am. I also made friends I will cherish forever.Â I am learning to deal with and embrace the fact that this private part of my life is no longer private.

When I spent time backstage with Tori last November, she autographed a photo for me saying this:

That has become a mantra of sorts for me. We need to stick together through this. We owe it to each other to fight. Two hours from now I am going to attend the memorial service for a friend of mine. Perhaps I am betraying her by writing this, but I don't want her to have died for no reason. They tell me she killed herself, but I don't consider her weak or selfish. Christy was strong and beautiful. She fought for so long and so hard. Perhaps she had simply reached her limit. So much of her life was painful; I hope she has found what she was looking for. I will miss her. I will remember her. I owe it to her and everyone else we have lost in this battle to fight. I can't do it alone. I need each of you. We all need each other. We will get there together.

Sometimes I catch myself in the act. I see myself making decisions that I wouldn't have made two years ago, or handling myself in a way uncharacteristic of the person I was. I catch myself being a survivor. I say "catch myself" because it's not always a conscious choice anymore. It just happens. It's who I am now, and I like it. It was worth the struggle.

I've found a lot of those things I was looking for. I rarely have nightmares when I sleep, and I've learned a lot about trust and relationships. I can talk about my rape without crying; in fact, I now speak of it with strength and composure. It affects me, of course, but those effects are manageable.

Somehow I did it, even though I swore I would never make it. I know what it's like to have panic attacks, to not be able to sleep, to be deep in depression, to want to end it all. But now I also know what it's like to emerge.

I do not regret where I've been. I have incredible respect for the process. I'm sad about the times I chose to stay in my hurt (because there comes a point where we do make a choice) and I wore a badge of victimhood, because I could have done a lot with that time. But I understand that I needed that. It gave me plenty of time to process. I had power over my own healing, all that time when I thought I was powerless.

I'm writing this now because I want you to know that there is another side to this. I will never forget and I will never be completely over it. My rape will always play a role in my life and my decisions - but it no longer has to play the only role, or even the strongest role. It's part of me without defining me.

I am happy again. I have my moments, but we all do. I don't always make the wisest choices, but I am able to learn from them. I don't blame anything that happened on myself, but I accept my own role in things.

I can't believe how long it's been since I updated this site. I've thought quite a bit lately about taking down this website, because it no longer represents who I am. But thanks to the wisdom of some friends, and the kind words of visitors, it will remain online. Though it doesn't represent me now, I know that it did represent me. This site was my lifeline for a long while.

I am now married. I am a lawyer with two cats and a dog and a very happy life. I remain deeply, passionately dedicated to supporting survivors and preventing sexual violence. I am an active moderator of Pandora's Aquarium, an online support group, message board, and chat room for people rape, sexual assault, and sexual abuse survivors. We've recently become a non-profit corporation, which will help us in reaching even more of our goals. Please join the community - I am constantly amazed at the wisdom survivors share with each other.

I stand by what I said in my last update: healing from rape is possible and you will get there. Please keep fighting. Please know you are not alone. Please know that there is another side, and you will find it.

I want to share one last thing, an analogy that has stuck with me from the very beginning of healing until now:

When you first begin dealing with sexual violence, it is like you've been handed a huge boulder you must carry. The boulder is heavy, and it hurts to carry. You always feel burdened by it. It's always scratching you and hurting your hands and shoulders. Even when you're doing other things, that boulder is always on your mind. You're always thinking about it.

But, gradually, as you carry that boulder around, it erodes and becomes smaller. It becomes easier to carry, less burdensome. It's still painful and frustrating, but you can focus on other things too. The boulder keeps getting smaller and smaller, as you work through therapy, talk to other survivors, and tell your story.

Eventually the huge boulder is no bigger than a pebble. It will never go away, but at this size, you can put it your pocket. Every once in awhile you feel it, but the pain is manageable. It's still part of you, but it doesn't define you. You can take it out when you need to, to look at it and remember, but you can also keep it hidden from view. You've taken a huge, rocky boulder and turned into a small, smooth stone. You have reclaimed your life.