Hello, I am 24 years old and have finally comes to accept the fact that I was acquaintance raped countless times by my ex-boyfriend for the duration of around 10 months about 3 and 1/2 years ago.
His name is Tyler and he was the second person that I ever had sex with. He was very nice in the beginning of our relationship and very mean and nasty progressively. He was very good at manipulating me so good that I thought I had a problem not him, and I consider myself a smart person.
I don't remember when it started but I do remember when it ended, 3 days before I broke up with him. He did not physically force me to have sex with him I think because in his eyes he did not think that he was actually raping me. He would verbally force me. He would ask me to have sex and I would say no, so he would ask over and over again, literally begging me. He would say that it was my duty as a women to keep him happy. He would ask me why I didn't like sex anymore. He made me believe that I had sexual problems that "we" should try to resolve etc.
He would make me watch porns and read porns to him in hopes that I would be turned on. Of course we would have sex during or after the porns even if I wasn't turned on or didn't want to. He would also beg for oral sex and hold my head while I gave it to him. He also performed oral sex on me because he wanted to. He would ask me to have sex and I would turn him down countless times and then say something to the effect of "I don't want to but I will for you." Any decent man would not force someone to have sex.
I hurt almost every time we had sex. A lot I can't remember. I know what an out of body experience feels like. I would take myself away and other times I would just think of other things like balancing my checkbook. When I couldn't take myself away I would think "I am just being used, I am just a vagina." It took me a long time to realize what had happened to me.
After the break-up I thought that something was wrong with me because I didn't want the sex and because I didn't want sex ever again. This also didn't fit my definition of rape because I thought rape involved physical abuse or threat of life. I blamed myself thinking I could have prevented it by leaving. I still have a very hard time with feelings of guilt and shame.
Before I met my current boyfriend of the past 2 and1/2 years I thought all men were after sex and evil. I even thought about becoming a lesbian but then I decided not to because that might involve sex. I have been reading lots of books and have went to a therapist twice so far. I am very depressed because I think I am going through all of the emotional crap that I was in denial about until this summer. It is very hard and I wonder if I can get through this. I have flash backs, nightmares, lack of trust and feel a-sexual to name a few.
The only 2 people that I have told are my therapist and my boyfriend. I feel that others won't believe me and it is too much of a burden, by current boyfriend is having a hard time. I can't tell my parents because of their religion and personalities would say it was my fault. I have hope for a better future when all this pain if not most of it is gone.
I think I am sharing this mostly so that I won't feel so alone. I have tried most of my life to not let that I was abused show its signs in my life, but lately I have realized that as much as I wish it weren't so, it is a part of my past, and in being so, a part of my identity. I thought that maybe, if I wrote this, it would make me a part of a community.
It is hard for me to know where to start, because for me it wasn't a one time occurrence and I don't remember before. The earliest I remember being raped was when I was 4 or 5. The most recent was when I was 12. I am now 20, and looking back, all the memories seem dreamlike.
My abusers were two uncles, a cousin, and their friends. There are several things I find that I deal with now. I was brought up in a very religious family that believes that sex before marriage is wrong. Since I was so young when I lost my virginity, the concept of virginity is one that I don't comprehend. Up until now, I have never had consensual sex. However, I find in my relationships that I date a lot and rarely attach myself to someone. It takes something very special for me to title it. My last boyfriend broke up with me, because I wouldn't sleep with him. Part of me says, "what a jerk, he obviously didn't love me for the right reasons, right?" But, part of me really wants to be intimate with someone, just so that all my experiences with sex won't be negative ones. I am so scared though that when I do inevitably break up with whoever it is that I do it with, it will turn into another bad memory that, this time, I will blame myself for. Where does a religious belief take precedence, and where does my need for healing win? AND, would this really help in healing?
Another thing I really struggle with is that I don't remember a lot of it. It is so hard for me to think that there are horrible things that have happened to me that I don't even know about. There are things that people remember about me, that I don't remember about myself. The saddest part for me is that I will most likely never know everything.
And yet another thing... I was watching Notting Hill with Julia Roberts, and found myself really touched by the part where her character, Anna Scott, has to deal with pornography that she did as a young actress. Well, there was pornography in my abuse, and that part makes me feel like I am still being abused, because I don't know where those pictures or videos are and who sees them. For me, that part of the abuse continues.
My dream is to be an actress. I have been training at one of the top schools in the nation, and last year, I was the top female in my class. I'm going to make it! The not so funny thing is, while my classmates worry about making it, I worry about being famous and having the pornography come back to haunt me. I don't share my past with anyone, what would I do if pictures of me as a child, naked were posted all over the internet, or if newspaper or tabloids found out and ran the story? That is something I am scared to deal with.
There is so much more that I wonder about. I put one of my uncles in jail, and a second trail is coming up to see if he will be released at the end of his sentence or if his sentenced will be changed to a life sentence. I am the only one of the survivors willing to testify. Part of me doesn't want to, but if my doing so keeps him from abusing another child, I'll do it.
One of the worst parts for me is that I have never grieved about it. One time, my freshman year in college, I was walking home from work late at night and it hit me. For the first time in my life I cried about it. The pain was so intense that I had to grab on to a chain link fence to keep from falling down. I lowered myself to the ground and wept until I was weak and spent. I am not normally one who cries. Though I am proud of that fact, there are times that I wish I could cry out to someone to help me, someone to understand, but I am too afraid.
Too many people have turned their back on me when they heard too much of my story or saw me in too much pain. Therefore, I will write my story here with a fake name, and in some small way begin to seek freedom. So, that is where I am at. It is funny, because now I feel guilty for writing so much. I don't ever want to be in anyone's way or an inconvenience. I don't know how my story will help, but I hope that for someone it does.
I have only told my story in full once before - for the police report. Sometimes it seems like yesterday even though it has been years.
It was Oct 23, '94 - I was 18. It was the four month anniversary of my boyfriend and I and we were fighting. He had gone out with the guys and I decided to go out and have a good Sat. night too. I put on my little black dress and went to my best friends apt to talk him into going dancing with me. He wouldn't go. Everyone I knew already had plans of their own. But I was determined and went out to a little dance club anyhow. Alone. Even now I wonder where my brain was that night.
No one I knew was at the club that night, so I decided to just sit at the bar and smoke a few cigarettes before calling it a night. I lost my lighter so I asked a guy next to me for a light. He introduced himself as Carlos - there with his friends for his 19th birthday. We spoke for a while, just casual, innocent conversation.
Later some older man was bothering me, Carlos saw and got security to get rid of the guy. I thought that was nice of him and took that to mean that he must be and Ok guy I could trust. (mistake #2) I had 2 or 3 drinks that night and when it was time to close up I was a little mad at myself because I didn't want to drive with even a few beers under my belt. Carlos offered to drive me to wherever I wanted to go (in my car) until I felt I could make it home. That sounded responsible to me so I agreed.
We went to his friends house where there was a small party going on. Not more that 5min after getting there this guy came right out and asked me if I had come there to f*ck. That upset me. I told Carlos and he stood up for me, again building my trust in him. I wanted to leave so we went to another one of his friends places. There I had one drink (now I think it may have had something in it).
I felt uncomfortable with all the people I didn't know and wanted to go home but all of a sudden didn't feel to well. Carlos offered to take me driving around til I sobered up - I didn't feel comfortable enough to be alone with him so I only agreed when two of his friends came along. I figured "safety in numbers". Wrong. Carlos raped me while we drove along back roads I could never find again if I tried. One other guy had his hands all over me and the third one just let it all happen. I froze. I didn't fight. I closed my eyes and told myself that tomorrow when my boyfriend could hold me it would have all been just a bad dream. He cut open my hose and dress with a small knife. I felt totally out of control, but I don't remember being scared.
Then I got mad. I told them to let me out of the car. They dropped me off at my brothers apt. I went straight to the phone and called the police. The next 15 hours were spent in a hospital and a police station. I pressed charges and they plead guilty. Carlos spent 2 weeks in boot camp, I think. The other guy had to pay 750.00 restitution to me, which he just finished last week. The third got nothing for helping find the other two.
I pushed it all out of my mind usually, but lately it is here again. Sorry I am so longwinded. Its just nice to be able to get it all off of my chest.