I dated this guy, his name was Rick. And it seemed like forever that I was with him. He beat me, but I was 13 and didn't know how to leave. Couldn't walk away because he followed. Then one day my parents and I moved, and over time he let me slip away. And finally I moved on.
I met someone new. We got engaged. I became pregnant so I left him. And one day, as I waited outside a laundry mat for my clothes to dry, only 17, I saw him again. Rick was there, and I froze in my seat. Couldn't move, people around but I couldn't scream. And he pulled out a knife, put in against my throat and told me to drive. And so I drove. And he told me stop, so I stopped. And he ripped off my clothes, telling me to shut up. But I couldn't stop crying. So he hit me, and then he raped me. And he ran out of the car, leaving me bloody with only a promise to be sure of. That if I told anyone, he would kill me. And I wanted to die, so I told. And I'm still here, and someone else's hero killed him a few years ago. But now that hero sits in jail. And I'm still here. Screaming through the night, but I'm still here.
Hi. I don't have this written down beforehand, so if things seem jumbled up, my apologies. I'm not sure where to start but to say I feel comfort in knowing that someone will read this. My husband knows that I was abused, but I feel that I cannot talk to him, much less anyone else about it. I have been to 12 different therapists and not found one that I like or trust. My case is not so bad as others, but the consequences are so bad, that my heart goes out to others whose are so much worse.
I can't tell you when it started, but my first memory is when I was 4. My mother's father. He always wanted me on his lap. My grandmother, or my uncle, or anyone else was always there at the time. Not in the same room, but someone else was always there. He would slip his hand under my shirt. He would put his fingers down my pants and rub me down there. He did this every time I was at his house, which was quite often, because my grandmother was my babysitter. Of course I didn't tell, I was told not to and I always did what I was told.
When I was 14, my mother sat down with me and told me that he molested her and her two sisters throughout her childhood. When her youngest sister was 15 she got pregnant by him and had to get an abortion. Nobody believed her except the ones who shared in her grief. I also remember when I was around the age of 5, my mother sat me down and told me about the dangers of sex abuse. She didn't mention what he did to her, but she told me to never sit on his lap or I might get touched in places I shouldn't. Now if she knew of her abuse, why wouldn't she do everything in her power to keep her child from this monster? My mother really hurt me, and maybe that is the boundary for the distant relationship we have now, and she only lives 2 blocks away.
I am 21 years old now and I blame the abuse for every imperfection there is in me. I know from therapy and other stories that I have a right to blame most of my problems on that. Is there a way to get through it without years of nauseating therapy? I am scared of intimacy and closeness. I constantly feel as though my husband is cheating and doesn't even care for me. And he's not the type to tell me he does, so that makes it twice as hard, I was very promiscuous in my teenage years, I never knew that love could come with sex. I crave intimacy so bad, sometimes it overpowers me, and that's all I think about, I need it, my body and soul is constantly craving love and intimacy. But I know I can never experience it.
I have nightmares. I haven't talked to my grandparents in 7 years, and I still lay awake at night crying, not knowing the reason, having my husband get mad at me cause I can't tell him the reason. He doesn't understand and I'm afraid he never will. Is it the reason that I have no close friends? I know it makes me a hard person to get to know, but is it that obvious from the outside? I don't want to go on like this forever. Why is it that I was just touched all over, not raped, not forced to do things back, and the end result is just as bad as if I was? He was a political figure, city treasurer for years. They really do come from all walks of life. I can't trust anyone. Especially men.
One night a few years ago in bed, I had a very bad nightmare of my grandfather, my husband woke up, and I told him what it was about and he started touching me saying not to worry it was him, the man who loved me, not my grandfather. It confused me, I found some comfort in it, but at the same time worrying that he found some sort of satisfaction from it. Maybe that's part of the reason I can't talk to him about it. I want to so much, but I know deep down, that he thinks I'm making it more than it is. He told me once to just forget about it. But nothing I do makes the pain go away.
Wow, I just got totally lost in my writing. Probably doesn't make much sense does it? I wish I could meet someone who has been through the same ordeal. Someone else who is constantly depressed, overeating, going on rages almost every day, someone else who has attempted suicide on a few accounts, someone else who can't open up and actually make love to a man no matter how much they want to, someone else who has nightmares and who wets their bed once in a great while. Just maybe I could feel comfortable talking to them face to face without being embarrassed. My heart goes out to all who survived sexual abuse. Thank you for listening.
Please address mail to me (put "for Amanda" in the subject line)
I was 15 years old at the time and I'm 27 now. It's still just as horrible for me to remember and deal with as it was back then.
I was staying at a resort out it in the country with my family for a family reunion. All my relatives were there and it was great seeing everyone again. If there was ever a safe place, you would think that would be it. The people who owned the resort had a son who was about 20 at the time. The owners had turned the basement of their house into a recreation room for people who stayed at the resort. Nearly every day my cousins and brothers and I would go to the rec room and play pool or ping pong or video games.
One day my cousins, my brothers, the owners son and I were in the rec room playing games. Pretty soon everyone wondered off to do other things except for the owners son and I. We kept on playing pool. I bent over the table to make a shot and the next thing I know I felt something cold and hard against my side. I didn't know what was happening. I turned around and he had a knife. He pushed me to the ground and grabbed my wrists with one of his hands. He used the other one to yank down my pants. I started crying and asking him to stop.
From this point on, it was like I was in another world. Its like it wasn't happening to me. I could see him thrusting up and down and I could see myself crying but I didn't feel any pain. I saw his eyes roll back in his head when he came. That one image still haunts me. When people roll their eyes, I just lose it even now.
I kept thinking one of my family members would walk in soon but they never did. When he was finished he just stood up and left. He didn't say a word to me. I stood up and pulled myself together somehow. I remember thinking I couldn't let my family find out what had just happened so I tried to act completely normal. I just said I didn't feel well. I went inside our cabin and took a bath and went to bed and listened to my walkman and cried myself to sleep.
Many, many things about being raped still bug me even now-12 years later. It is getting better. I am married to a wonderful man who is totally understanding and helps me deal with things as they come up. The two worse things that can occur after a rape happened to me. I caught the HPV virus from him. I also got pregnant. I had an illegal abortion which I regret because I feel as if I killed my baby. I will always have to deal with this. This will always be a part of my life. I'd give anything to make it all go away.