Fyreheart
21-01-2006, 12:07
I doubt if there's more than a handful of people here at NationStates who will remember me, but it feels like I've been away from here for way too long.
I've recently gotten my life together and have decided on a direction. I am majoring in Human Services with the goal of eventually obtaining a Masters in Social Work. I am starting my volunteering at the local rape crisis center this coming Tuesday. I'm finally breaking free of everything that's ever held me back and I am finally learning to trust God and myself. It's a painstakingly slow process, but it's happening nonetheless. And I feel that my return ton this place that I considered home for so long should be marked with my new direction in life.
************************************
I was just 14 years old when it first happened. Back then, I didn't understand what rape, gross sexual imposition, or sexual battery meant. My family was going through major troubles. My father loast his job, we lost our house, and we had to move in with two alcoholic family members. I knew that I was a loner and had never had a real friend before and so I trusted him when he told me it was what friends do. I knew that it was awkward, but I had been told that life is sometimes awkward and that we just need to accept that. You see, for me, the knowledge that this was not only awkward but a brutal and deliberate exploitation of an immature and naive child was not possible at the time.
The alcohol abuse at home was causing major problems for me. I wanted to get away, to have just a short break from the yelling and the fighting. He offered me that. Not too long afterwards, he also offered me something that would "feel good" and maybe take away the pain and utter lack of belonging I was feeling. Vulnerable and desperate for something to cling to, I quickly accepted. When I didn't exactly like it, I was told that it would take time for a bond to form between us and to not give up.
And so it continued, with me being so naive as to believe that there would eventually be some form of friendship between us, some kind of bond that a lonely child could have. Little did I know that the "bond" he spoke of would include forced oral sex, forced anal sex, threats of violence and death against me and my family, and physical beatings for saying no or even trying to resist.
So now it had become a battle between his desire to control and my right to not be raped. My right to not perform sexual acts against my will. When I tried to assert my rights and say no, I was met with brutal physical abuse. I was thrown into walls. I once had my head rammed into a metal pole. One time he pushed me into a pool table in such a way that I could not resist when forcefully shoved his penis into my mouth. Eventually, I stopped resisting altogether out of pure fear. Fear of further pain and punishment. At that time, he had won. I was his pawn, his toy.
It continued for two years. Two years of the same painful and degrading treatment. It only stopped when a family member caught him in the act. At that point I thought it was over, I thought the pain was going to stop. It didn't. It happened again, one year later when high school officials, who had been informed of the situation, put us in the same health class and he followed me into the restroom. No, I didn't scream for help. No, I didn't resist. the fear he instilled in me took over and once again, he imposed his sick control. Why we were put in the same class, I don't know. I have comforted myself by saying that maybe it was some kind of automated assignment process not controlled by any human, but in reality, I don't know if the school authorities even cared.
I was further victimized by the very justice system that I hoped so badly would protect me from him. I have little memory of the legal procedures that ensued, not only because I've buried some memories, but because I was simply never informed of what was happening. Police reports were filed on my side, for his I can't speak. I was interrogated in a closed room with no legal representation, and told my parents had to wait outside. I ended up in some form of juvenile mediation with a referee, not in a court of law with a judge. I was literally sitting in a room with my abuser sitting mo more than 10 feet away, glaring at me. I was terrified to say anything to support my case. I offered no real statements of evidence and no real testimony as to what had occurred. To put it bluntly, the entire procedure seemed designed to intimidate me. It worked.
My parents listened to the advice of the referee and stopped pursuing the matter. I landed in counseling and he walked free as if he'd done nothing wrong. To this day, that still disgusts me, not only because I know he is out there somewhere, but because the justice system seemed hell-bent on minimizing everything that had happened and making it seem like what happened to me wasn't all that bad. It took me many years to realize that this wasn't true, and that I should seek the justice that I wasn't allowed to have. Later, I realized that I could not do that, because both my criminal and civil statute of limitations had expired. As a result, my abuser is now protected by the same legal system that failed to protect me, simply because of the passage of time.
Since then, my life has been a roller coaster, and the fact that I cannot have this resolved by due legal process continues to have an impact on my life now. At times, I have been afraid to even leave the house for fear that he would be waiting for me. My ability to feel safe in normal, everyday situations is practically nonexistent. Almost a decade after the abuse began, I am barely able to hold a relationship with my girlfriend because I find it difficult to trust anything she says.
I am constantly rebuilding my life, even today. My college career recently collapsed in late 2005 due to overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame, and I withdrew completely to go back into therapy, adding to the hundreds of dollars I have already spent on taking back my life. I was recently diagnosed with Post traumatic Stress Disorder, and this explains why I am still so afraid and nervous around people, and my intermittent aversions to anything sexual. A direct result of the abuse, this is a condition that I will have to endure for the rest of my life.
However, I am finally succeeding in managing my life. The nightmares have stopped completely, and the emotional flashbacks are few and far between. I have a small but steady support network and I'm making an effort to grow it more. I'm starting to repair my relationship with my parents. I enrolled in college again for Spring 2006 and I am doing well, though admittedly, it's only been a week. I am going to register with my colleges disability office so I may get help if I need it rather than hiding behind the shame. I will forever try and stop myself from being a victim. I am not a victim. I am a survivor, and though the bad days, the tears, and even the physical senations of him biolating me may return, so will life.
The one piece of advice that I have learned that is worth anything is this: Break your silence. Do not allow rape or sexual abuse to fester inside of you and grow, feeding on itself. Stand up and speak out. You'll bring much needed awareness to the topic and you will also encourage others to do the same. Self support is crucial, because at the end of the day, the only person you've really got is you.
My silence did not protect me. Your silence will not protect you.
It feels good to be home.
I've recently gotten my life together and have decided on a direction. I am majoring in Human Services with the goal of eventually obtaining a Masters in Social Work. I am starting my volunteering at the local rape crisis center this coming Tuesday. I'm finally breaking free of everything that's ever held me back and I am finally learning to trust God and myself. It's a painstakingly slow process, but it's happening nonetheless. And I feel that my return ton this place that I considered home for so long should be marked with my new direction in life.
************************************
I was just 14 years old when it first happened. Back then, I didn't understand what rape, gross sexual imposition, or sexual battery meant. My family was going through major troubles. My father loast his job, we lost our house, and we had to move in with two alcoholic family members. I knew that I was a loner and had never had a real friend before and so I trusted him when he told me it was what friends do. I knew that it was awkward, but I had been told that life is sometimes awkward and that we just need to accept that. You see, for me, the knowledge that this was not only awkward but a brutal and deliberate exploitation of an immature and naive child was not possible at the time.
The alcohol abuse at home was causing major problems for me. I wanted to get away, to have just a short break from the yelling and the fighting. He offered me that. Not too long afterwards, he also offered me something that would "feel good" and maybe take away the pain and utter lack of belonging I was feeling. Vulnerable and desperate for something to cling to, I quickly accepted. When I didn't exactly like it, I was told that it would take time for a bond to form between us and to not give up.
And so it continued, with me being so naive as to believe that there would eventually be some form of friendship between us, some kind of bond that a lonely child could have. Little did I know that the "bond" he spoke of would include forced oral sex, forced anal sex, threats of violence and death against me and my family, and physical beatings for saying no or even trying to resist.
So now it had become a battle between his desire to control and my right to not be raped. My right to not perform sexual acts against my will. When I tried to assert my rights and say no, I was met with brutal physical abuse. I was thrown into walls. I once had my head rammed into a metal pole. One time he pushed me into a pool table in such a way that I could not resist when forcefully shoved his penis into my mouth. Eventually, I stopped resisting altogether out of pure fear. Fear of further pain and punishment. At that time, he had won. I was his pawn, his toy.
It continued for two years. Two years of the same painful and degrading treatment. It only stopped when a family member caught him in the act. At that point I thought it was over, I thought the pain was going to stop. It didn't. It happened again, one year later when high school officials, who had been informed of the situation, put us in the same health class and he followed me into the restroom. No, I didn't scream for help. No, I didn't resist. the fear he instilled in me took over and once again, he imposed his sick control. Why we were put in the same class, I don't know. I have comforted myself by saying that maybe it was some kind of automated assignment process not controlled by any human, but in reality, I don't know if the school authorities even cared.
I was further victimized by the very justice system that I hoped so badly would protect me from him. I have little memory of the legal procedures that ensued, not only because I've buried some memories, but because I was simply never informed of what was happening. Police reports were filed on my side, for his I can't speak. I was interrogated in a closed room with no legal representation, and told my parents had to wait outside. I ended up in some form of juvenile mediation with a referee, not in a court of law with a judge. I was literally sitting in a room with my abuser sitting mo more than 10 feet away, glaring at me. I was terrified to say anything to support my case. I offered no real statements of evidence and no real testimony as to what had occurred. To put it bluntly, the entire procedure seemed designed to intimidate me. It worked.
My parents listened to the advice of the referee and stopped pursuing the matter. I landed in counseling and he walked free as if he'd done nothing wrong. To this day, that still disgusts me, not only because I know he is out there somewhere, but because the justice system seemed hell-bent on minimizing everything that had happened and making it seem like what happened to me wasn't all that bad. It took me many years to realize that this wasn't true, and that I should seek the justice that I wasn't allowed to have. Later, I realized that I could not do that, because both my criminal and civil statute of limitations had expired. As a result, my abuser is now protected by the same legal system that failed to protect me, simply because of the passage of time.
Since then, my life has been a roller coaster, and the fact that I cannot have this resolved by due legal process continues to have an impact on my life now. At times, I have been afraid to even leave the house for fear that he would be waiting for me. My ability to feel safe in normal, everyday situations is practically nonexistent. Almost a decade after the abuse began, I am barely able to hold a relationship with my girlfriend because I find it difficult to trust anything she says.
I am constantly rebuilding my life, even today. My college career recently collapsed in late 2005 due to overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame, and I withdrew completely to go back into therapy, adding to the hundreds of dollars I have already spent on taking back my life. I was recently diagnosed with Post traumatic Stress Disorder, and this explains why I am still so afraid and nervous around people, and my intermittent aversions to anything sexual. A direct result of the abuse, this is a condition that I will have to endure for the rest of my life.
However, I am finally succeeding in managing my life. The nightmares have stopped completely, and the emotional flashbacks are few and far between. I have a small but steady support network and I'm making an effort to grow it more. I'm starting to repair my relationship with my parents. I enrolled in college again for Spring 2006 and I am doing well, though admittedly, it's only been a week. I am going to register with my colleges disability office so I may get help if I need it rather than hiding behind the shame. I will forever try and stop myself from being a victim. I am not a victim. I am a survivor, and though the bad days, the tears, and even the physical senations of him biolating me may return, so will life.
The one piece of advice that I have learned that is worth anything is this: Break your silence. Do not allow rape or sexual abuse to fester inside of you and grow, feeding on itself. Stand up and speak out. You'll bring much needed awareness to the topic and you will also encourage others to do the same. Self support is crucial, because at the end of the day, the only person you've really got is you.
My silence did not protect me. Your silence will not protect you.
It feels good to be home.