Changing the World

Maybe mine is a special case. Maybe not. But admitting my first rape was not met with bleeding hearts and compassionate hugs. It was met with hostility, retaliation, and harassment. The reaction from my admitting the rape, in the end, turned out to be worse than the rape. The third rape was like reliving that nightmare.

The pain I have gone through, the hostility I have endured, the hardships I have survived, most people do not know I have gone through so much. Instead they see a pretty girl with a biting sense of humor and a mile deep of compassion. This is exactly what I want people to see.

What I have lived through has not killed me, but it has left me scarred. With those scars, I reach for people, I see hurting when others don’t, I love when others choose to hate and I choose to value moments that most people are not able to appreciate. Building walls is so much easier to protect yourself from others, but it takes an incredible amount of strength and courage to face the pain that I have felt. Yet, instead of me losing the most important thing to me, my humanity, my compassion, the ability to love and become vulnerable, the ability to get close to others, I stare and live in defiance of the pain I have endured.

Imparting any of this that I have learned has become critically important to me. Imagine one less tear? One less moment of pain that someone may have to feel. This world is changed one person at a time, so if we can make that commitment- the commitment to change one person’s life- then we essentially change the world.

My memories may haunt me, but the idea that my pain is being experienced by men and women all over the world stirs me to action. Since I have had such terrible experiences and I am trained professionally with the perfect skill set and personality traits, I want to help.  So that is exactly what I am going to do.

Not Safe

Before I opened the door I stopped. With a big breath I put my chin up and opened the door. Cops.

In shame I grabbed my things and quietly made my way out the door. Before I left, I looked them all in the eye: my friend, her brother, and both of her parents.

Thank you.

And then I put my head down and silently got into the patrol car.

Please don’t leave me alone with my parents. They will hurt me.

While we are there they aren’t going to hurt you.

But you have to leave at some point, what happens then? What do I do?

Your parents aren’t going to hurt you.

Will you stay to make sure I will be ok?

Yes.

I was nervous as they drove me. My own brother- my middle brother- had betrayed me. I thought I could trust him. What happened? Knowing my parents were not going to be happy about me telling the family secret, I didn't know what I was about to walk in to, but I was scared. There was not anything I could think to do. Since I had told the school, CPS, and the cops, I thought I would be safe. Yet, here I was being delivered back to the house to my angry parents by the cops of all people. My sense of safety had been challenged far to much in one day. Everything that I thought I knew about the world was being ripped away. There is no justice in the world.

What do I do?

As we stopped in front of my house, I again grabbed all my stuff in shame. Instead of shuffling quickly like I had everywhere else, I slowly stepped to my doom. I knew what faced me on the other side of this door was not going to be good.

Please don't leave me here. They are going to hurt me, I pleaded quietly one last time to the police.

Youre going to be just fine.

The officers knocked on the door. My parents opened it. They were upset, but not maliciously. The police officers walked in about 4 or 5 steps, not even fully into the etranceway of my house.

Well, it looks like everything is fine. Have a great night.

Spinning around in terror, I tried to catch the eyes of the two police officers to make one more silent plea. They never even looked back. The door closed. Then it locked. Both of my parents stared at me, their faces both contorting into rage. Suddenly neither one of them looked like the happy white family with problems they had first appeared to be. That's when I noticed we were alone in the house. My body went limp, all of my resolve draining from me.

Instead of confronting my parents, I tried to act nonchalant and walked into my bedroom to drop off my stuff. My stepmother followed me in to the room.

She must have held me down on the floor for over an hour and a half. She screamed at me and pulled my hair, slapping me when I did not tell her what she wanted to hear. All alone in my room, I knew there was not going to be anyone to save me.

Say it isnt true. Say he didn't rape you.

I cant. Its not a lie.

Youre lying. I want you to confess that you made it up.

I really wish I could, but Im not going to lie to you to make you feel better. 

SLAP

It happened. I dont care if you believe it or not. Im not going to start lying now.

Clumps of my hair were caught in her fingers because she had pulled so hard for so long. Again I would go to school without visible marks. CPS wouldnt believe me again. Part of me wanted her to beat me to a bloody pulp so someone would believe me. The rest of me wanted it all to be over, but it went on for what seemed like forever. My voice sounded further and further away as she berate me, trying to get me to crack, to admit it was all a lie. If I had to deal with it being true, then she had to too. Eventually I lay there motionless, all my energy gone. My eyes unfocused. My breathing slow and shallow. She finally let me be. 

As she got up, I only remember her being frustrated at my responses. She slammed my bedroom door behind her as she left the room. 

After a moment, when I was sure she wouldnt return, I got up and combed through my hair with my fingers. Bigger chunks of hair came out. Slumping in fear and shame I crawled onto my bed and lay down. I pulled my knees to my chest and lay there crying in the fetal position.

The cops just left me. They didnt even check to see if I was going to be ok.

Grabbing the blanket, I pulled it up over my head, as if hiding would help. In a deep depression, I quickly lost consciousness.

In the morning, I awoke before my father even opened my door. The fear had startled me awake as I heard him walk towards my room. The last thing I wanted was to be punched again.

Again I stuffed my backpack, but this time I packed it without the thought of getting any other items from my room. After everything that happened, I knew I couldnt even trust my own brothers, my father, or the stepmother who I had wished was my real mother.

I am all alone. What am I going to do? I cant trust anybody!

My father and I did not speak in the car the whole way to school. This time as I got out of the car, I didnt say goodbye. All my energy was gone. Instead I closed the door behind me and stood still, listening as the car drove away.

Bye, Dad, I thought to myself.

Then I walked into class, a shell of my former self.

This time I didnt tell anyone what happened. What good would it do?

You Don't Matter

There I sat in the counselor’s office. Knowing what I had to say next and saying it were two different things. Once you said it, it really happened. She stared back at me and I know she could see my face stained by tears, eyes red from crying, hair disheveled, and my nose running. Staring back into her eyes I knew I could either remain silent and carry my shame alone, or tell her and lay shame bare for all to see. The ramifications of what I was going to say would ruin peoples’ lives.

I took a breath and began telling her what happened that morning. The details were shaming and painful to disclose. At times I had a hard time not sobbing, but I would compose myself and keep going. Then she asked me the dreaded question: Why? Nothing is worse than having to answer that question. 

Because I was raped.

So the story of why my father hurt me became the story of what happened when I was raped. When I finished I held my head in shame.

It happened. Now I’ve told the world. There is no going back now.

After I had composed myself, the counselor told me to go back to class. That was it. As I sat in class dazed, I got called back to the office. For some reason I was actually surprised to see the police and Child Protective Services. They took pictures- the redness on my neck had been gone for hours. There were a few scratches on my arms from the wall as I was dragged by it. My father had punched me square in the nose, so I had no black eye. Instead there was a bruise from where the cartilage of my nose had bent. Armed with only a small bruise, some scratches, and a detailed story, CPS sat me down and told me that unless there were cigarette burns or broken bones, because I was over 13, it didn’t matter.

I don’t matter? So even though he choked me and I almost passed out a few times, it doesn’t matter?

No.

So he can beat me all he wants as long as there aren’t any broken bones? That’s what youre saying?

Yes.

They told me that if I went home and it happened again, I would not be safe. They could do it again. It was "a personal matter." 

The feelings of fear and dread were overwhelming. The police heard my story of the rape. Few questions were asked. Looking back I don’t even remember if they gave me their business cards. As the day went on a friend contacted me. She said I could go home with her. Given the alternative, it was the only reasonable thing to do.

We went to her house and she introduced me to her parents. After over an hour I finally felt comfortable enough to relax. At some point I called my middle brother to ask him to sneak me over some clothes. After I hung up the phone, I got in the shower. It had been a long day and washing off the tears was the best idea I had to start over. The bangs on the door I could hear even from the shower. Then talking. Next a knock on the bathroom door. My stomach turned because I knew. Hurriedly I replied I would be out shortly. Drying myself off quickly, I dressed into my clothes. Before I opened the door I stopped. With a big breath I put my chin up and opened the door. Cops.

In shame I grabbed my things and quietly made my way out the door. Before I left, I looked them all in the eye: my friend, her brother, and both of her parents.

Thank you.

And then I put my head down and silently got into the patrol car.

Please don’t leave me alone with my parents. They will hurt me.

While we are there they aren’t going to hurt you.

But you have to leave at some point, what happens then? What do I do?

Your parents aren’t going to hurt you.

Will you stay to make sure I will be ok?

Yes.

My Christmas Wish

Holidays are for families, so I am sure to find at least one wherever I live. Pretending they are my family sometimes is enough to help me through each holiday. Yet every holiday I have this nagging feeling of being lost, lonely and alone. More than anything, I want to belong.
This Christmas was supposed to be special. This was the first time I was going to have my own family- a family I could be proud of. A son who was given something more precious than what can be wrapped inside paper and placed under a tree. A husband that was loving and doting. One I did not have to worry about beating me or leaving when he had some selfish need to entertain. For the first time I was going to relax in the comfort of a man's arms that wanted me to be with him. Me. While I am a smart, beautiful, compassionate, cheerful and entertaining woman, I also have a history that makes most people cringe or hurt. As a person, I do not need to be fixed, but I do want to be loved in spite of the shame and pain I have lived through. What I want more than anything is to bare my soul, my scars and my fears, and still be loved in spite of all my failings. This was going to be the first Christmas I was going to experience that. For the first time in 16 years, I was going to belong.
Since I lost everything at the age of 15, the thing I have longed for most was love. That may not sound like much, but I find that so many people are ungrateful for what they do have. They miss what precious things they have because their focus is on perfection or small irritations. They get caught up in the dishes not being done, it being the other person's turn, in how a small remark that was said in innocence feels like a personal attack.
Losing everything repeatedly has changed me. Luckily I let it change me for the better. My nightmares may be horrible, but I make a choice to reach out and touch the people I know. I have hard days and rough days- not bad ones. Comforting people. Connecting with people. When I touch people I find there is so much more to life than this facade we are sold by our materialistic society.
Most people do not realize that things happen in their life- often out of their control. What we do have control of is how we react to them.
So, for me, for my Christmas wish, go home. Go to your family. Love them. Cherish them. Dont let stupid, petty issues take away from the experience you have of each other. Confront the issues while they are small- and then let them GO! Choose your battles; some things arent important in the grand scheme of things. Because looking back from the end of your life you will know then, but if you act today, you will be able to enjoy the most precious of gifts.
Love.
Its not an emotion. Its a choice. Its an act. Its an ongoing action.
Today I grieve the loss of my dreams. I grieve the loss of exciting possibilities. I grieve my son knowing what it is like to have a father. I grieve the loss of someone I love. I grieve having to let someone I love go for my greater good. I grieve the loss of that relief that I have waited my whole life for this and its here now. Its not. Someone stole it again. Someone stole much more from me than just a rape.
But dont worry for me. With how beautiful, funny, charming, compassionate, loving and intelligent I am, there will be someone that will love me, even the dirtiest part of my past. While it may be a hard road I walk, I do not walk it alone. Neither do you.
Learn to love each moment. You may never grasp at that moment how precious it is until it is gone.

Waking up

It was a few days after my birthday. My fiance was supposed to be back the next day, but the stupid government shutdown caused him to be delayed 30 days. I was surprisingly ok with the delay, but I was having a hard time dealing with him being gone. He's an active duty soldier, and he was supposed to be "home for my birthday." Here it was. A year later and he still was not home. And I Missed him. He always made me smile-  no matter how bad the day was. Being with him made my day better, even from the first day I met him.

 I could feel the desperation building for the 2 weeks beforehand. I knew my birthday was coming- I'm always sensitive about my birthday- and I knew he wasn't going to be home, so I knew I had to spend it with someone. I couldn't blame him or be angry with him or burden him because he could not change anything. He was in Kuwait. He was a soldier. I know what that means. I signed up for this, but some days its hard to love a soldier. I broke down crying to my best friend only 4 days before because I thought she was not going to be able to do anything with me. I knew I couldn't be alone. I begged her to stay with me- to keep me busy- to distract me from my loneliness. From spending a birthday alone. From missing him the day he was supposed to be home. I'm a strong, loving woman. This day i needed a friend to help me carry my burden. I missed my soldier.

So there I am in a bar over an hour and a half from my home. I never really drink and with my stomach ache, I was sober celebrating my birthday. I was too afraid to go out alone. I very rarely get nervous, or scared, or shy, but that day I was so sad I could hardly stop crying. I used to work in a bar, so I don't find them very fun. I wanted to karaoke. I wanted to dance with my chick friend- my best friend from high school. I needed her to make me laugh. We stood away from the rest of the bar while she tried to cheer me up. She was making me laugh, but every once in a while a tear would still fall out. I hate crying. I couldn't confide in my soldier- I knew he was struggling too. I couldn't burden him. I dislike the corruption of the government, but this corruption affected my life in an intimate way. How could I be mad at my fiance? This was the corrupt legislatures fault. this was a story they would never understand. This is who gets hurt when the government doesn't do its job. It was about a half hour before sunset. I was starting to be really silly. My memory flickers. I'm confused.

I have a fantastic, intimate dream of my fiance. I dream. I even dream about him, but this was a hot, sexy dream. It was like I was making crazy love sex with him. I'm so euphoric. I cant wait for him to be home.

WAIT! what is That? That's a naked man laying next to me. 
It woke me up from my sleep-
I know my fiance isn't home yet- what the HELL?!?! 
As I startle awake, I can definitely feel a naked man next to me- so I frantically concentrate on my vagina.
Oh Thank God! It doesn't hurt- I didn't have sex!! 
I sit up- COMPLETELY NAKED except for a beaded necklace advertising booze. The Fear hits me- I have NO CLUE where the hell I am, but I should not be here,
AND WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY CLOTHES!?!?
As I peek around the room I notice a broken window, glass all over the floor, I am in a nice comfy bed with good linens and I hear the naked man as he wakes up. The first words out of his mouth are:
Do you even remember my name?
UH- FUCK NO! I don't know where I am, I don't know who You are and I don't remember a Fucking Thing! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED? Why Am I Here?
Your fiance's name is  [name is removed- but yes, that's my fiance's name], isn't it?
Uh, Yeah- How the fuck did you know that?
You really don't remember what happened?
Seriously man, I don't know anything. Where are my clothes? Why am I naked? Did we have sex? Did we use protection? What the hell happened?
The guy begins to go rigid with fear.
No. You said you were on the pill.
OMG. [nervous laughter] I'm not on the pill. We had sex? And we didn't use protection? And I told you I was on the pill? My Fiance isn't home. I don't need to be on the pill!! Why would I be on the pill? Why would I tell you that?
And then the laughter begins.
Fuck- that's funny. I must have told you that because I thought you were my Fiance. Did I really call him my fiance? I don't usually call him that because he hasn't bought me a ring yet.
I practically run- stumbling the whole way- to the bathroom. I pee and even have a little loose stool.
What the Hell was that about? Am I going to be sick? ..... nope...... not nauseous.........Huh.... I feel great actually. I have energy! I feel Great!
I nervously gather my stuff- my shorts with my underwear cozied inside the crotch still- like they came off together- right as I entered the apartment. His shorts only a foot away from mine. My bra and shirt and activity monitor that I had been wearing on my right tricep all night was tossed all over the bedroom.
That is so weird- why would I take off my pants first instead of my shirt? Did I give him head? Because it doesn't look like I did- the clothes wouldn't be there. Why Wouldn't I take my shirt off FIRST? Why wouldn't I give him head- that is weird......
I turn on my phone- it has 6% battery.
Damn! I don't know my friend's number or her address! Id better text her so she can call me back on his phone.
I got a hold of the babysitter after I texted my friend. My friend never responded to my text, but the babysitter says she just got home. She got lost twice last night- the first time looking for me. My best friend's fiance had come home after hours of looking for her the second time. They lost me early in the evening- where have I been? Why didn't I call? I tell her I don't know and I'll be there shortly. I can hardly stop laughing.
For the next hour and a half I wait impatiently for a cab- all the while drumming up details from the guy about what happened.
...Yeah- they totally cut you off because you were wasted! I kept trying to get you drunker though! Hahaha. Man you were out of it!.....You even got into an open cab behind some people and we rode with them to my house. They wanted to come to my house too, but I sent them away with the cab...... When you got here you went all the way up the stairs.
Yeah that's because I live on the third floor.
Yeah but I live on the first.
Yeah....but I obviously was confused.
And even though I'm nervous, I'm still laughing and joking about everything. The cab guy calls THREE times delaying his arrival.
I still cant believe you don't remember me. You were so passionate. I thought you really liked me.
But wasn't I talking to you about my fiance the whole time? Why would you think I'd like you? 
I thought you really liked me. Will you call me?
FUCK NO I'm not going to call you. I never would have slept with you if I wasn't so wasted. I love my fiance. I'm loyal. There is no way in hell I would have cheated on him. I must have been out of my God Damned Mind!
So you aren't going to call me?
HELL NO.........Dude I cant take it anymore- call another fucking cab company damn it. This dude is ridiculous.
The next cab company is called and shortly there after the cab arrives.

No way am I letting this dude know where I live- or where my friends live. Who the fuck is this dude? OMG. He is totally not my type. How the hell did this happen?
****************************************************************************
After a long cab ride, I finally get to my best friend's house. The babysitter tries to tell me the story that has been pieced together so far. I got lost early in the evening- I must have walked away. My best friend got lost looking for me and she was able to finally find her fiance after using a phone- but her memory is gone too- shes missing about three hours during the first three hours that I have no memory. Our memories are gone starting about the same time. She hasn't even realized it yet because she doesn't understand that even though her memory felt seamless, her story has a distinct place where something happened- a big chunk of time is missing, but to her it made sense.... so far. I plug in my phone and wait for the charge to get high enough to turn on the phone- I HAVE to tell my fiance.

Are you going to tell your fiance?
Of COURSE I'm going to tell my fiance- why wouldn't I? If I hide it from him and tell him later, how is he ever going to trust me? Besides, I love him. I cant hide anything like this from him! He'll understand- he used to be a drunk. He'll understand.
As I tell my friends what I remember, I'm laughing and joking. Everyone is staring at me like I am out of my mind.
Are you fucking kidding me?
[Oh my best friend. I love her. Shes so honest! Why is she looking at me like I'm crazy?] It's so funny. Man I feel great- I haven't even had my meds since yesterday- I should be a slug, but I have Energy! I feel GREAT!! Why don't I always feel like this after drinking? I usually get so hungover!! Lmao. I have to tell my fiance. But what do I say- all I can think to say is, "I just woke up naked next to some stranger!" No way I can just say that- he will have a heart attack! How will he be able to handle that- I have to figure out a different way to say it- but I have to tell him!!
I tell him I had a great night- I don't know why. I felt great! But then its down to business- I need to tell him about how I woke up. He asks me questions and I'm vague. I let it loose pretty early that I went missing and I woke up in a strange place. After a few questions, he zeroes in on the waking up in a strangers house.
Yes. Please ask me. I don't know how to tell you. Keep asking.
Did you wake up with all your clothes on?
There it IS! No! No I didn't!
Immediately the conversation shifts- He gets furious. I don't even understand Why. Not even close. NO CLUE why he's mad. I feel like a bird that is looking at something, cocking its head, trying to figure out everything.
Why is he so mad? 
And I mean clueless. He refuses to speak with me.
Oh man. He's pissed! Why is he so angry?
After a long period of self-reflection- and its long because my thought process is so slow. So SLOW. I think about how I woke up. Why was I in bed with another man? How did I let myself get so drunk? Especially since I hate drinking. I never get drunk in public- I'm too afraid of it.
OMG!!! OMG OMG OMG!!!! I wasn't DRUNK!! I forgot!! I had stopped Drinking!! I WAS SOBER!!! I LOST MY MEMORY- BUT I WAS SOBER!!!!........omg......I was drugged.......i was drugged....OMG. 
Then I realized why I was laughing:
I was High. OMG I was high. I WAS HIGH AS A KITE!!!!

Immediately I contacted my fiance- But he wouldn't answer my text. He refuse to call me. I started to freak out.
Why wouldn't he talk to me?? I needed to talk to him!!

*****************************************************************************

A little more than a month later, my now ex fiance is in our apartment. I asked him to come- to look me in my eyes. To see I was telling the truth. He refused to look me in the eyes.

I don't understand. I just cant believe you. I know a lot of other beautiful girls that have vaginas and they aren't getting raped.
I lose it. [OMG. How can he say that? Why can't I keep guys from raping me?]
There is no way some guy raped you without you doing something to make it happen!!
[I didn't want this to happen- I was being safe! I wasn't talking to anyone- just my best friend. I don't know how this happened! I didn't do ANYthing to DESERVE this!! To ASK for this!! Is this really happening??]
How can I trust you to have my kids when you cant even keep people from raping you?? You cant even take care of yourself??!!??
[Numb. I'm numb. Did he just really say that??] I never even thought about it like that.... Just leave now- I never want to see you again. This is too much.