i dont really know what to do - this is not the first time that i have told my story.
my first experience was when i was 5 or 6 yrs old and i was molested by an older cousin named veda when she would visit from new jersey at our grandmothers house. she must have been about 12 yrs old. she let me play w/ her barbie dolls and i didnt know what else to do. i guess physically it felt good and besides i wanted to be able to chill w/ my pretty older cousin from up north (im north carolinian) and i just went along with it. at nite we shared a bed and she'd kiss all over me. the worst thing i remember was one nite she stuck a krazyglue tube into me....i only remember that it hurt very badly. that might have been the breaking of my hymen.
she would always talk about sex and boys to me, even though i was only in kindergarten. i remember her making me suck her breasts. and taking off my underwear. it was terrible. the worse thing i think in the world is that someone could do that to a little kid.
at fifteen i was sooo anxious for a boyfriend. i ended up w/ a jerk named eric jones. he was 19 at the time. i know that on our first 'date'- i snuck out of the house while my mom was at work, he took advantage of my naivite. i remember he popped the seat back on his mom's blue bonneville and made out w/ me. i was scared and i know he could tell- just didnt care. over the next 2 yrs i did things w/ him i regret- anal sex was the worst. it was bad. after i finally broke up w/ him at 17 i was so jaded and depressed and had such a low self esteem.
at 18 i was 'raped'. it was my freshman yr of college and i put it in quotes because i cant remember it. it was my boyfriend. a guy named javon richardson. i dont remember it....the whole thing is fuzzy but i know that he did it- i can just feel it in my heart.
since then i've gone through alot. im now 22 yrs old and a senior at UNC Chapel Hill (carolina tarheels in chapel hill, north carolina). i have been depressed, masochistic,suicidal. and felt like i was a whore. still i use sex and sexuality for power. i dont know how to love or be loved. its hard. but i am as proactive as i can be...ive worked w/ Take Back The Night, the Carolina Women's Center, and Advocates for Sexual Assault Prevention. but its still hard knowing my own past.
i hope everyone will continue to keep the faith. God will carry you through.
Rachel S. Lee
im: Rachel Santresa
This is absolutely the hardest, most terrifying emotional thing I have ever done. Before I tell this story, let me explain why I have been unable to tell this story for 13 years. I have been afraid of being isolated more than I already feel. I have been afraid of the comments. I have heard some already and in physhological terms its called "secondary wounding" each time I hear one such as "why do you want to remember" and "just pretend like it never happened" or "why do you want to talk about this now". Even more so, I am afraid of being avoided more than I already am. The people closest to me "don't want to bring it up" after all who wants to talk about "such terrible things". I wish everyone could understand. When someone does not understand, which is pretty much every time I talk about it, I sink into this nightmare even further.
I guess I need to talk about the nightmare itself. I cannot write this on paper as it is too difficult for me to do yet, so I keep an on-line journal. I have never talked to my two best friends in life about this face to face. I started therapy......this is the third therapist. Every time I end up telling the Dr. I am over it and then I leave and eventually I remember it happened and I have to talk to someone.
This time has been different. As my Dr. puts it I am a "classic case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder" How nice, a diagnosis. It should be a comfort, but its actually one more thing to be ashamed of for me. I am always strong. Always! If the people I love see me the way I really feel inside they will see I am no longer the person I used to be. Something died and dies every day because now I remember. Actually thats the ironic part. I remember the feelings........the actual event in my mind is still the same 30 second movie I have always remembered except for the fact that I now remember what he was wearing, a white tank top and something grey, sweatpants maybe? and that his walls were paneled. Things like this to anyone else don't seem like such horror filled memories, but to me they are part of the unspeakable. Being silent should have been the way to keep all this in control. I think that is the survivor's way. My silence is as much the reason I feel shame, guilt, isolation, fear..........as the rape
I am having flashbacks......these are the worst. I thought I had been through terrible things before and I have, but this is a living hell. I guess I should get to the point........oh by the way the reason I avoid getting to the point is because I feel I have no right to be upsetting people about something I can't even fully remember, something that happened so long ago, something I must be at least in part, responsible for. I am not past this yet as I am writing this. Please be patient. I feel so ashamed for writing this.
I don't remember where he lives, how I got there, how I left there, how I got home or the hours in between. I do remember his name, his face, what he was wearing, who set us up on the so called "date" and a few other (to me) disgusting, horrifying, and humilating events of this rape......my rape. I cannot belive I actually was able to write that. The word rape when I refer to it where I am concerned is a trigger. The worst trigger of all for me.
All I know is this.....I was set up with a guy (a monster) who she didn't thing was her type, but she thought I would like him. Another girl I know also went out with him and he was not her type either. They thought I would like him. I still don't know why they thought that. I never met him before. He said on the phone that I should come to his house for lunch. He didn't pick me up so I guess I either took a cab or the bus. What a gentleman. I am not surprised. I agreed......... "Ok" I probably said. I don't remember. I remember saying hello. I remember within probably five minutes of my being there he asked me if he could show me his trophys. I think they were softball. I recently remembered that little tid bit thanks to my Dr. Next thing I remember is him kissing me on the side of the lips because I know I turned my face away and him pushing me down. I remember struggling although not enough. I remember I was wearing a skirt and that he took off my underpants. I remember after that seeing only my face as if from above and crying, seeing my mouth saying no. This is called "disociating" Its what happens when there is a "terrible too-much-ness" for the mind to handle. I remember his disgusting filth was on my stomach and I remember standing up and him laughing at me saying something I can't remember. He also said something about cleaning myself off. I don't remember what it was. I still cannot believe he was laughing at me that way. How horrible, how humiliating. I feel sick to my stomach. I don't remember anything after that. I got here at about 12 noon and got home at about 12 midnight. Part of the horror of all this is I have no idea where I was all that time. Was I in that house? Was I wandering the streets, Was I sitting up the street from my mom and dad in front of the churchyard in the pouring rain? That is where I woke up so to speak. When I got home my mom asked me why was I soaked. I made up this story saying that I was dragged into the back of the churchyard and I said I guess I screamed and he left. She asked if my clothes were in tact. I said Yes, I was fine, and that what she was thinking did not happen. The guilt and shame I carried for years for making up that story is so hard to bear. Now I am understanding why I did it. I still feel ashamed of it though as I still feel ashamed of so many things like the rape itself, talking about it, bothering people about it, feeling like its my fault, blah blah blah.
So this is the first time I ever wrote this out and it feels worse than I thought. I feel nauseated and all the things that hurt so much especially the flashbacks. It feels like it is happening to me over and over. I can try to to explain the feeling. The feeling is all in my private parts. It feels like something is crawling there and its evil and it makes me fill with rage towards him. I never felt anything towards him in all this time. Now i do! I hate feelig so much anger. When I have these flashbacks I want to rip the feeling out and tear it to shreds along with my insides. Sound horrible? Its as bad as it sounds if not worse. You feel like you are going insane. I can go on and on, but won't. I am embarrassed as it is for thinking this is something anyone wants to hear.
I hope this helps someone to know they are not alone. Its not their fault! If they need to talk they can email me. I also hope that when I get the nerve to ask my friends and family to read My Story that they can understand the way I feel.
Hi, my name is kelly and i was raped during my freshman year of college. i had been drinking way too much one night. i passed out and i woke up later in the back of my car naked. i knew i got raped immediately but when i got home and i found that someone had also written obscene things on my back and on my butt. just really degrading things. i do not care to repeat it now.
days went on and i didnt tell anyone about it. until one day about 2 weeks after the event, i begin to notice guys looking at me funny. finally one guy came up to me and said he would like to be in my next gangbang. i was totally shocked at what he said. later i found out that there were all these photos of me being raped by 6 guys and they were being distributed between frat houses via emails. i was sick to the stomach when i finally saw them. people didnt know i was actually getting raped in those pictures. i had to report it to the school, but they never got the guys and people still kept sending my photos around. i had to transfer to a different university because i was constantly being propositioned. i became a prisoner in my own dorm room. and all this happened because i didnt know my limits and i drank too much. i am now 26 and i can call myself a survivor. but it has been hard keeping relationships going. and if any guy out there can honestly tell me why you men loves degrading women, i am all ears.