I remember feeling a little sore. I remember feeling that I would never be the same. I remember walking around the house after he dropped me off and feeling as though a part of me was now missing. I was angry with myself. I asked my self why I did it. I was disapointed with myself. But I didn't think he had raped me. The idea didn't even occurr to me. Rape, to me, was violent, forceful, done against great protest. I hadn't protested. I didn't say no. I told him to wait and he hesitated - and then he went further. I hadn't fought for myself. So I went to bed.
I woke up the next day with a horrible, sinking feeling in my stomach remembering what happened the night before. I felt sickened with myself. What a fucking slut, I thought - I slept with a guy the first time I met him. I was pathetic. I couldn't stand the idea that I was that disgusting - to sleep with someone I didn't even know. So I called him. I called him and asked him to be my boyfriend. After some hesistation, he agreed. We were together for 7 months after that. I finally broke up with him.
Only now am I beginning to understand a little of why I decided to go out with this guy. It was the only way I could justify what I had done. It was the only way I could pretend. I told myself that it wasn't that bad to have sex with your boyfriend. That was normal. That was okay. I pretnded like this for several years - I conveniently forgot that first night. I broke up with him because he became a little controling and he scared me. I began to realize how messed up he was.
A couple of years after it happened I would at least admit I had been "coerced" into having sex. It wasn't until 2 years into my relationship with my current boyfriend that i began to look at it a little differently. And that was because it began to affect my sex life. I became repulsed by the idea of my boyfriend having sex with me, or me touching him. And only very recently have I realized that I was raped.
I plan to tell my mother soon. I thought it would never affect me but now I know that I need to work through it because it has permeated much of my life, either directly or indirectly.
I hope someone else might learn from this. I hope that I might learn from this.
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This happened 6 yrs. ago. It took plenty of time for me to get over this. I still have low self esteem and self hatred. I blamed myself for the longest time saying that it was my fault, I shouldn't have gone. I have learned to love myself and become strong from it. I thank Tori to for her music. She is such an inspiration. Thank you Tori!
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Chistina
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Afterwards, he never spoke to me, and I even ended up telling a couple people that it was wanted sex, but I was so ashamed. I'm only dealing with this shitty way to lose my virginity now because my therapist has asked me to really come to terms with my past. He never knew my name... if you're going to hurt someone that bad, to steal everything they're worth, to kill them, you should at least know their name!!!!! You see, I started cutting myself afterwards. My arms were always marked up by razor blades, punishing myself. I became bulimic for a little over a year, wanting to purge my feelings out of my body. I needed a release from the hurt. This helps, some.
I want to reassure everyone, that no matter what happened, he had no right to do what he did.
Thanks for letting me share this.
Kyra
Aol IM: KlownDogg6
p.s. my website
also has some rape support stuff on it
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He didn't say a word.
I passed out from exhaustion, but woke up a few hours later. It didn't take me long to figure out what had happened, since I had been a virgin, and also because of the flashbacks. I was so scared because of the drugs and fear of being pregnant, so I had a friend take me to the hospital. I was lucky there was a specially trained team of women who helped me there. A counselor held my hand while they did the horrid and embarrassing exam and asked all those personal questions. I slept for days after, because they gave me so many antibiotics and the morning-after pill. I eventually had to give my statement to the police, both in writing and in person. They had him arrested that night, but he made bail so he was back on campus for the last few weeks of classes. I was afraid to leave my room for days. I was afraid he would come after me. He was free to roam around, yet I was a prisoner in my house. The legal stuff dragged on and on. I had to come back twice for pretrial hearings, in which they tried to make me look like a slut, even though I was a virgin, and an alcoholic, even though I wasn't a heavy drinker. He made a plea bargain, which I accepted, since I wanted to get on with my life and my education. I wasn't going to let him get in the way of that. He plead guilty to misdemeanor sexual assault, instead of felony, which meant no jail time, just a slap on the wrist. The best part was that there was a hearing for him at school, which he never even showed up for, so he was kicked out. That in itself speaks volumes about his guilt.
I went to counselors and group therapy for a while, and pronounced myself "cured." I wasn't going to let this affect the rest of my life, but of course it did. I kept silent for the next two years, until I found Barbados and subscribed to the ripplebacktome list. This made me realize how damaging it was to keep it all inside. I had nothing to show for this, except a failed attempt at one relationship, distancing myself from my friends and family,depression and heavy drinking the past few months. Not to mention the coldness and the emptiness inside. There has been a voice inside me afraid to come out until now, because she felt so alone. I have since realized I'm not alone, but I have to ask for help from others, even if they can't all understand what I'm going through. Thanks to Tori's beautiful lyrics and the support of everyone's e-mails, I can finally see hope in my future. I wish that for everyone else who is struggling, too. It's not an easy journey, but, as Tori (and Pearl Jam) says, "I'm still alive."
Jade
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i've dabbled in the message board a few days now, so i think now it's time to let you all know what is behind me and what keeps me coming here, besides my need to help people.
i just turned 18 eleven days ago. i'm very young, i think.
i lost my virginity at age 12 to my thenboyfriend, who, i guess, was tired of waiting. he was 13 at the time, always begging me to go 'all the way', but usually listened to me, respected me. seemingly out of the blue, he raped me on his couch in the living room while his parents were away. that is when i first started recognising the signs and symptoms of my insanity. i will not say he is the reason i began going crazy, but i will say it's a funny coincidence. [my insanity, by the way, is catatonic schizophrenia. but that is another story, perhaps for another site. eh.] we had been dating for.. about year, i think.. when this happened.. it was very unexpected. i hadn't seen any signs of him becoming violent or cruel. but that day on, he repeatedly beat me and raped me, and eventually got me addicted to all sorts of lovely drugs i have since stopped taking [clean for one year and 10 months now]. this continued for another year and a half till he abruptly left me for another girl. at the time, i thought it was the blow to end all my existence, i was devastated, i tried to kill myself, but i see now it was much better than the alternative that he did leave me, because i never would have left him. after that day, i did not speak of him to anyone for about three years, till i met my darling trevor. god bless him. one day, everything about jeremy came pouring out of me, and trevor was very patient with me for the next several months as i finally started dealing with what had happened. it had been almost four years since i'd had any contact with jeremy, and i felt i was very close to healing, when all of a sudden i literally bumped into him at an outdoor market place [yay, saturday market! :-)]. when i realised it was him, i immediately froze up in fear. i was certain he would try to hurt me. i was used to him hurting me. but he only stared into my eyes and held my hand for a few minutes. i noticed my initials were carved into the back of his hand and he had long scars and track marks and cuts up and down his arms. there was a lot of pain and pleading in his eyes, and i almost wanted to hug him, cradle him, take care of him, but i was so scared.. a few weeks after that, he called me. he wanted to see me, and i said no. then he said, "treva, i am sorry for what i did to you. i'm sorry." hm. it didn't quite have the effect on me he intended, i suspect, as it put me into a nervous breakdown. whoops. he called me a few more times after that, throughout a year, and in the september of 98 he told me he was leaving america to go to europe and be a musician [violin/piano/beautifully talented]. he wanted me to be there at the airport when he left. i almost went, but i backed out at the very last minute to watch beatles movies with friends. i think i am glad i did.. it would have been nice to have some sort of closure to the entire ordeal, but i still was frigthened of him at the time, and i did not think .. it would .. benefit me... now, how i came to the conclusion of this story is beyond me. i can only attribute it to god, faith, trevor, my many dear friends, and my own inner strength. i have grown, emotionally and mentally, the past year or so, grown at a tremendous rate. i have healed virtually flawlessly. scars fade. i will not forget, as it is a very large part of me, and i will not excuse, can not excuse, but i do have the strength and power to forgive honestly. and i want to say, jeremy, if ever you see this, i do forgive you now. i don't understand it and i can't explain what you put me through, but i forgive you, and because of this, you can not, will not, haunt me nor break me anymore. the moral of story number one: peace comes back. strength comes back. love and life do not leave.
now. i have another medley of stories [didn't i say i'm full of 'em? -)]. new year's day, 1998. i went to a party with two acquaintances where i did not know many people. as soon as i stepped in the door, a strongshouldered boy had me by the hand, ready to show me around and introduce me to people. i was happy to go with him, as he was polite and friendly. i had no second thoughts about going upstairs with him. only when he led me into a bedroom and locked the door did i feel dread. i knew what was going to happen and i knew i had no choice. i knew there was nothing for me to do after the initial protests but to lie there as he hurt me and raped me and told me i liked it [psh. i begged to differ.] he was very crude and rough, and my brain won't let me see his face, just his very large hands and his broad shoulders. well, he had friends. when he decided he was finished with me, he went out of the room and said to another boy, "there's something in there you might like." my mind was numb, my body was numb, i had transformed myself into a mannequin of Blank. i remember the second boy was much gentler than the first, and i almost mentally thanked him for that. [ok. now i know i'm thinking to much and telling too little, my screen saver just came on. haha] anyway, boy #2. well, when he was done, he lifted me to a sitting position and just looked at me, and when i started crying, he held me and tried to calm my trembling, and he helped me put my clothes back on. i wanted to thank of him for these things too, but it somehow inappropriate to be polite to a rapist. i left immediately after this. i don't remember how i got home.. i suppose it isn't important.. but i've still always wondered.. only a few weeks did i realise that the second boy who raped me at the party was a friend of mine, someone who by nature was socially awkward, slightly effeminate, shy, softspoken. blew me away. [woops, there goes my screen saver again. it's a stupid one, too, what the heck] well. a short time after my realisation, i learned i was pregnat from the raping. i can not even begin to describe the mixture of emotions and thoughts inside me. i think i experienced every feeling known to the human race, all ultimately becoming love. this tiny fetus in my little body became my entire universe. i had plans and hopes and daydreams for it, i was ready to start any day to look for a young couple to agree to an open adoption for my baby. but my life has a habit of bringing the worstcase scenarios to reality for me and two short months into my pregnancy, i miscarried. now, this, this was truly devastating. the entire incident has been blacked out of my memory. i simply don't rememebr it.. i remember blood and pain and tears, but nothing else.. and one year and two months later, i still feel i can not deal with this. it is excruciating, agonising.. the rapes themselves, i feel i pretty much am over those. but the miscarriage, not even close.. i .. understand it a little! more, and .. blame myself and the child a little less.. [and please donotdonotdonot tell me it is for the best. how can the best thing hurt so much?] and once again, beautiful trevor has given me a quiet lifeline. he tries very hard to reassure me these things are not my fault while understanding that i won't be able to believe him for quite some time. he truly is a godsend and i thank krishna every day. i haven't quite found the moral for this story yet, but when i do, i'll be sure to let you know.
if i have learned anything from my experiences, it is that i am not invincible, but i am so strong, i may as well be.
if i can do this whole living thing, so can you. promise.
treva
http://members.tripod.com/~lestatchick/treva.html
ICQ#: 33709869
IM: trevaellen