Waking up for the 4th time today. I set an alarm after posting earlier to sleep for another hour. Then I woke up and wanted more sleep so I set another alarm for 2 more hours. But then sleep felt so good so I didn’t set another alarm. Went back to sleep until my boyfriend called me. He was worried because I didn’t text him back. I’m glad he woke me up. But I wish he was here. He usually gets Tuesdays and Wednesdays off but he’s covering for someone today. I hope we still get to have our date night tomorrow.
I finally went to therapy yesterday. It helped a lot. Just being there and setting a schedule to keep coming in gives me hope. I’m going to join a group therapy every week to help manage my depression without medication. Then I’ll come back to see her the 19th of July. We talked about my rape but only for a little bit. I couldn’t do it so soon. But she wants me to think about what I want to get out of talking about it. That’s something I thought I would never have to think about.
That’s something I thought I would never have to think about. That’s a question I didn’t even know exist. I thought everyone went to therapy to talk about trauma so they can stop the nightmares and go back to their normal life. But perhaps there is another reason I want to talk about my rape? Like some kind of closure? Maybe I want to know why he did it?
I don’t really know. But that’s why I’m going to think about it. I have a whole month to figure it out.
it was just a bad dream, right?
yea it was, it never really happened.
liar, you liked it and you know it
no didn’t want it
liar, you liked it didn’t you?
no… yes…. I don’t know
liar, you didn’t stop him
no… but I wanted to
liar, then why didn’t you?
I…. I don’t know…
liar, because you liked it
because you wanted it
because you asked for it
because he kept coming back
because he was the only one
because you wanted it
because you didn’t say no
and now your crying about it
and now you…
but the nightmare never stops
it haunts you forever
it follows you forever
in new relationships
you’ll eventually have to explain
why you broke down during sex
and he’ll think it’s his fault
but its all your fault
because you lied
to yourself all these years
and you never told a soul
you did this to yourself
you only have yourself to blame
the nightmare never leaves you alone
*Trigger Warning: Rape*
I was sexually abused for years when I was a child by my cousin. I didn’t stop it. I wanted to stop it. I was confused. I felt numb when he touched me. It was all a blur and it feels like a dream. Then I was molested by a guy from high school. I was scared to call him a friend but I did. He kept grabbing me and making me touch him. I just wanted him to stop. Then I was raped in my sleep by someone I thought I could trust. After I told him I was raped and molested. I guess he thought he could have his fun too.
I write about the things that happened to me. But I don’t talk about them. I should probably talk about them. I desperately want to talk about it but I can’t bring myself to say the words. I don’t even know why I want to say it out loud.
One day I will say these words out loud. One day it won’t feel like a nightmare. One day it won’t pop into my head when I don’t want it to. Right? Or will it continue to haunt me forever? Will I ever rid myself of these memories? Why should I even say it out loud? Do I really have to? Can’t I just keep it buried in the back of my mind forever? Can’t I just pretend to be okay? Can’t I just forget it ever happened like him?
Did he even forget? Does he even feel sorry? Would deny it now? I’m scared to find out. What if it was just a nightmare. What if it never actually happened. What if I lied? What if I asked for it?
She didn’t care what other people thought of her. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and say what she wanted. She was a bit lonely. She wished her parents didn’t work so much. She wished they didn’t move so much. She barely had time to make friends. She forgot how to make friends after the 5th elementary school she started in. She started to get bullied by then.
She lost her innocence. It was stolen from her. Along with her strength. The world seemed smaller then. He was always around the corner waiting for them to be alone. So they can do it again. And she just let him. She felt weak when she didn’t stop him. She felt numb with him. Too scared to stop him. She could only watch them. Escaped from her own body. She locked herself in her own mind. Then the confusion set in.
New emotions she’s unfamiliar with. It doesn’t feel right but it’s the only thing she knows. So it had to be right. Right? No one told her otherwise. She could never tell anyone anyway. She doesn’t think they’ll believe her anyway. Why didn’t she feel anything? Wasn’t she supposed to like this? Enjoy this? No one told her otherwise. She just felt empty. She never stopped it. So she had to be enjoying it?
She learned quickly that she was just a plaything. Nothing more. And she wasn’t the only one. But they enjoyed it more. What was wrong with her? Was she broken? Probably. But she continued to be his plaything. She tried to enjoy it. She kept saying she did. But she really didn’t. She wanted him to stop. But she didn’t want him to. She was confused. She didn’t know what she really wanted. Why?
They got caught in the act. She thought this was her chance to stop this once and for all. But mom went to talk to him first. She was left alone. The last this she wanted to be. She tried to think of what to say. She tried to tell mom that she didn’t want this to happen. She wanted to stop it. She didn’t ask him to do anything. It was all a blur to her. Why didn’t mom believe her?
It’s been years since he touched her. But the memories still haunt her. She tried to put this behind her. It never happened. It would never happen. Don’t tell anyone. They won’t believe you anyway. Just let it go. Don’t think about it. Just let it go. But the nightmares continued. Followed her for the rest of her life. It became a constant companion. The only friend that believed her.
*Trigger Warning: Rape*
It’s been in the back of my mind for the past few days. I’ve stumbled upon some poetry about rape and molestation. It got me thinking about mine. I was trying to push it down but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I desperately wanted to talk about it. So here I go.
As a child I was raped and molested by one of my male cousins. Multiple times for a number of years. I thought that since I never tried to stop him I must be enjoying it so I shouldn’t try to stop him. But I didn’t know if I really was enjoying it because while it was happening I felt numb to everything. I didn’t even smile. He turned on the TV and I just focused really hard on that instead of what he was doing.
But when I watched porn and sex on TV and saw that they looked like they were enjoying it more than I seemed to. I thought there was something wrong with me. Like I was broken. Was I broken? I probably was.
So I would get these mixed feelings. I wanted him to continue because I thought I was supposed to enjoy it and I thought that I should want sex. I became obsessed with him because of the attention he was giving me. I was an only child and my parents were working really hard to make sure I had food and a bed to sleep on under a roof. So I spent a lot of time by myself or with other family members who were too preoccupied with their own responsibilities.
I also made up a lot of stories to try to get myself out of trouble. But when I tried to tell my mom that he was raping me she didn’t believe me and thought that I initiated the act. So I learned to keep my mouth shut.
Never tell anyone what’s wrong because they’ll think you’re lying.
I often thought I was adopted because I wasn’t like my family. I didn’t even like them. I often wished I was adopted because I wanted a better family. One who cared enough to listen to my crazy stories. One who will listen to me when I tell them someone is doing something I don’t like. One who would do more to protect me from people who want to use me like a sex doll.
So there it goes. I let my boyfriend read this and we talked about it. It feels a lot lighter on my shoulders now. But this is only the beginning of my healing. I’m going to my first therapy session in like a couple years. Then I’ll work up the courage to tell my parents and we can finally put this behind us.