I will be 40 this year and this all happened when I was about 14/15.
I have always said I was date raped and said it so easily like talking about the weather. Then, I went to a therapist who helped me to realize I was raped and the man should be in jail for it. He was 23.
We were at a friends house after a wedding and we had been drinking. We were laying on the couch and he came inside of me. I didn't realize it until I moved and he said, hey, be careful. I freaked out and all I could think about was gettng pregnant. We had met many times and he would fondle and touch me in ways I enjoyed, I thought of him as my boyfriend. I felt such shame about this for all these years. I told my mother about a year later but brushed forgot about it. How could I tell anyone about him when I enjoyed what I felt while he was touching me.
Well, this last therapist told me I enjoyed it because as a man, he knew where to touch me to make me feel good. God gave us woman nerve endings that help arouse us and I never knew or even thought about this - I just thought I should not have done it. Well, when she had me picture this happening to my niece who is 17, I said I would kill the guy - she is just a kid. This helped me realize how sick he was.
This therapist also told me because I didn't know this rapist entered me, I have experience at blocking out. Also because it didn't hurt when he came in me, someone else broke the seal God gave us for our husband to break. Therefore, I believe I am blocking something more out, as a younger child I guess.
I have been in unhealthy relationships - where sex is the rule. Even when I didn't know there last name or it was the first night I met them. Yuk. I want a healthy relationship and I want to be attractive without the fear of men!!!
I hope this helps others who can relate. I was raped and it wasn't my fault!!
Although it happened so long ago, 23 years to be exact, the rape has destroyed me in ways that it took more than two decades to realize. I suffered from all of the effects of a brutal rape by three men when I was 14. The responses from so-called friends made me never want to talk about it again, leading to serious psychological problems created by repressing such a horrible trauma. Most people listened and did not respond, never mentioning it again and leading to severe feelings of isolation. Others used it as lurid gossip, making me feel unwanted and embarrassed. A few months later I tried to kill myself. Only during the three days in the hospital did I feel good, away from the world that hurt me so badly. My parents did not know about the rape, although my friend's mother heard me talk about it and told my mother. I lied and said it didn't happen. I think she wanted to believe that and has. She has never asked about it again. I told her it "almost" happened. Later, for at least a year, I began hitting myself with rocks and hammers, creating bruises on my arms. All throughout college, I felt better being in a new environment, but I treated friends cruelly and abruptly. I could no longer trust anyone and expected everyone to hurt me. My drug use, which started before the rape, continued in the form of excessive drinking and pot-smoking. Fortunately, I have those under control since I have a beautiful 18-month daughter now.
When I was 25, I married a wonderful man who has been supportive of me. Unfortunately, and unbelievably it was not until recently that I realized this, I have been angry and taken it out on him through irritability at small things and morose behavior when drinking. I am now trying to get this under control. I cannot have physical intercourse and only have orgasms through other ways. I do have a daughter and do not want any of this to affect her. I am working very hard to resolve these issues and to overcome the post traumatic stress disorder that I have repressed for so many years. Often, I hate my appearance and the very core of myself. I have always blamed myself for what happened and am trying to get over this feeling of shame.
You see, I was wild and out of control at the time, using drugs, skipping school, and hitchhiking every where. I hitchhiked with my "friend" Matthew to ocean city, where we broke into an apartment of someone he knew (this act, more than any other, is what makes me blame myself. I am also ashamed that I did such a thing). At some point, we went out for beer and hooked up with three thugs, who later I found out had gotten out of prison, to buy it for us. They came back to the place we had broken into and we partied. I gave them a painting as joke. Later, they came back and said that if I did not have sex with them, they would report us to the police for breaking in and they had the painting to prove it. I was a virgin at the time. The first one put his finger in me and it hurt so much I clamped up. He then put his penis in and it hurt terribly. He laughed when he saw the blood and realized I was a virgin. The second one was watching (Matthew was out smoking pot with them as they alternated) and put his penis on my face. He then said he wanted to butt-fuck me and the first one said he did too. I don't remember a single detail of what happened. I then went into the bathroom and tried to hide. The first one said I had to come out. He used my name and was speaking in a sickly sweet voice. For some reason, I do not like my name and I think it is because of his voice. I had a sheet wrapped around me and I was sick and scared. Now, I do not like to go to the bathroom with the door shut. I had to come out. The third one tried to rape me, but said he couldn't. Somehow it was over, but the life of pain had begun.
No one cared. Even my sister who I told never said one thing about it, and she's a very nice person. About a year ago, I told two close friends and it really helped to get it off of my chest. Last night, I had a dream that a wild psychiatrist, Madame Tzoutazka (wasn't that the name of a movie?) was helping me. She put an axe in my head, which did not hurt, and whirled me around. As I was whirled around, the pain was dislodged. I screamed, I have been hurt to the very depths of my soul, and howled in pain. It felt good. I hope this will be just one part in my recovery. I don't like to talk about it since no one seems to care or I am too embarrassed to tell the details, because I am afraid they will blame me for doing such a stupid thing, but keeping this inside is really eating me alive.
I want to rebuild my confidence and stop hating myself. After my dream, I saw myself lying there, after the rape, as a 14 year old girl, and I reached out to hug myself and stroke my hair. I love you little Cindy, I said over and over. I felt better.
It's funny how a person can actually fear a word, but for almost 5 years I have...
Its hard for me to explain what happened, because I don't remember so much of it. He was my boyfriend, he was 16 and I was 13 when I met him. Immediately he showered me with attention, making me promise to see only him, and to be at his house whenever possible. Being 13, I found the entire situation enchanting, I had an older, good-looking guy infatuated with me, or more likely my mature body, and my naivete. For a month I overlooked the way he humiliated me in front of his friends, he would hold my chest and make comments about how he had the most obedient girl ever, and weren't they jealous? I wasn't allowed to be without an arms reach, and if he displayed his hand, I was to immediately hold it. Well, I put up with it, believing I had no other choice.
As my 14th birthday neared, he became more and more degrading towards me, and very physical, much more so than I was ready for. For a while he allowed me to get away without sex, as long as I would suck his dick, and swallow whatever came out. I hated it, but for my virginity's sake, I obliged, but he told me on my birthday, I was going to be properly welcomed into womanhood. I avoided going over on my birthday, thinking that I could escape my "welcoming", but the day after he coerced me into visiting him. At first I thought things were going to be fine, but soon I saw that he was determined to "make me his, forever", this is what he told me. I don't remember a single detail about what transpired that day, all I have is a diary entry which says, "I had sex, I didn't want to, but I did."
Shortly after, we broke up, much to his distress. He told me that we could still be friends, "special friends", when I said I didn't want to have sex again he quietly agreed, so I thought I was in the clear. But a couple weeks later I went on a family outing with his family. After we got back, we went into his basement to watch t.v. A couple minutes later he was on top of me. I told him to stop, but he progressed, through my objections. I pushed and pleaded, but his football player's frame out weighed me by at least 70 lbs. After words he forced my head to his lap to finish, what he hadn't, and as a tear ran down my face, I went along out of fear. After he told me he was sorry but he "just couldn't resist, your so beautiful, you know that, don't you?" He told me that we forever linked and wasn't I happy? No ,I wasn't , but I didn't tell him that. I simply got up, wiped away the single tear, and called my mother.
The ride home was hell, I swore my mother could smell it on me, see it in my eyes, but she said nothing, so I rode home in silence. The silence would carry on for years, only shallow words, unimportant phrases could escape my mouth. Today, July 8, I am 17 days away from the 5 year anniversary of losing my soul. I face it with fear, but I am not alone , I have my flashbacks, I will see those freckles upon the bridge of his nose for the rest of my life, and I will never be able to be with another without wanting to cry. In 5 years I have not said the word for what took place, and I don't know if I ever will, but maybe someday I'll be able to see freckles and not crawl out of my skin. But forever I will be... his.