Monthly Archives: February 2012

You don’t define me

He stole so much from me. I don’t think he could ever imagine how much what he did has affected me. It affects me every day. What happens in your life and the choices you make defines who you are. I didn’t chose it but yet it is a part of me. I have to accept that it has been a part of my life and it is responsible for how I act and do sometimes. Even if I don’t want it or like it, it has been one of the components that made me who I am today. I know all the bad things it brought, that I’m scared of trusting people, I rather hurt then risk to get hurt, I often step on other people in order to avoid to get stepped on. I do all this because it “protects” me, at least I thought it did. I realise that I’ve hurt people when I’ve been so focused on not getting hurt. People say that I can be mean, rude, don’t care and never keep my mouth shut. I never meant to be mean, I don’t mean to be rude and those who truly knows me knows that I care more than most people do. I realise that I’ve had the strategy to speak first in order not to risk ending up in a situation where I don’t have control and sometimes to protect myself I have been not my best self. Connecting to what I said, what you do and the choices you make defines who you are. I have decided that I am ready to risk getting hurt and to show the real me, the one who absolutely isn’t mean and who do cares. What he did to me defines him and it has affected what I do to others long enough so enough is enough. I refuse to get defined by his actions!

In order to survive I created a shell, it protected me but on the cost of others sometimes. You hurt me, that made me hurt others and for that I hate you!

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Close my eyes and get raped again

It’s been a good day. I’ve had this tickling feeling in my stomach and I think it is what most people would call happiness. I don’t know why I felt it but I enjoyed it and allowed myself to smile for no reason. If there are any good parts of not being ok it is that you really learn to appreciate simple things as being able to smile for no reason. You never know what you got until it’s lost. For me that is the everyday happiness, today I appreciate simple things as moments without him in my thoughts, smiling without knowing why, sun shining on my frozen cheeks etc.

As all other days when in writing my posts I’m in bed and all lights are off as I’m ready to fight for my sleep. How I feel when the memories comes through really varies, sometimes I can barely breath and other times, like now, I feel sick to my stomach. I wish I could escape my own body, sell it and buy a new one. The memories of the rapes makes me want to crawl out of my skin. When I close my eyes it’s like I relive all that happened and I feel disgusted, I feel his hands on my body and his breath in my face. I want to wash him off but I can’t. I have to live with this body, the body he possessed for so many years. How can I ever really get my body back, can I ever get the feeling of him washed off?

You stole me and for that I hate you

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Descending with tears

I do really hate this part of the day, when I have to go to sleep. Most of the times it takes forever before I can turn of the TV, I can’t bare when it’s quite so after the TV is shut of I have to listen to music. My playlist is called “heartbroken“, it puts me to sleep every night. Lately I’ve cried myself to sleep exhausted from fighting of memories I can’t bare to think off.

You know the feeling you get in your chest when you have to do something you really don’t want to do? That’s how I feel when I have to go to sleep. It started after my first night with the boy I’ve met, I think the comfort I felt sleeping in someone’s arms made me realise how scared I am when I am on my own. The night is the darkest hours of the day in many aspects.

I’ve been texting with the guy all evening and I can really tell when my fear of going to bed kicks in because it is when I start to read everything the text doesn’t say. What I am trying to say is that earlier in the evening when I do feel ok I can be glad for the simple reason that he just sent me a text. I just received a text saying “good night, sweet dreams. Kisses! and I react by thinking “why didn’t he write sweetie? Oh no he is not into me. Look I know I’m crazy, you don’t have to tell me that. But I also know that I react like that because I hate to say good night since for me going to sleep is the worst part of the day. I think I try to feel hurt by him so that the pain in my chest will be identifiable. Then after reasoning with myself I know that I really appreciate his good night text and that I just have to realise that the pain in my chest is from what I still partly ignore, the rapes and the abuse.

Life is scary but for the first time in my life I am ready to take it on. I decided that I rather get hurt for real than keep living this fake emotional life I’ve created. I have some of the worlds greatest friends that truly carries me when I don’t have the energy to walk. I’ve had the courage to tell my story to some of them and for the rest I am still trying to get enough courage to do it. I am so scared and yet my fighting spirit is stronger than ever.

I am still descending, but in a controlled way. I’m moving towards rock bottom because I need to get down there, face all that I’ve been true and build myself a new foundation to stand on. It’s a long way, the longest one I’ve ever walked. Feeling like I do now and knowing that the worst is yet to come is terrifying and yet worth it. I know, for the first time, in my heart that I will someday be ok and in order to get there I can’t skip any steps. This time I’m in it for real, and by it I mean my life. I’m taking it back no matter what the costs are. I’ve tried living like this and I promise you that it’s no longer worth it unless it becomes real and real means feeling. So I am feeling and here I am in my bed crying my heart out.

You played with my life and for that I hate you.

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Tears rolling down my cheeks

I hate this part of the day when I’m in bed and I’ve turned off the lights. I have nothing that distracts me from my thoughts and feelings. I don’t know what just hit me but it feels someone just put an enormous stone on my chest. The stone is so heavy that I have to fight for every breath. I know I won’t stop breathing but it feels like I have to fight for every breath. Memories are attacking me because they know I’m weak at this hour of the day. I get affected and I can’t fight them. I just have to watch them as tears are rolling down my cheeks. I knew this would happen but at least I had one good weekend without the pain and the memories.

I don’t want to go to sleep, I’m scared of what I might dream. I wish someone would hold me right now and tell me that it is ok to be scared and that it is ok to cry when you are hurting. The problem is I haven’t shared my story with the ones I would need the most, my family. I’m 26 and still I wish that my mum would hold me and tell me that I will be ok. But how can I ever tell this to my parents and at the same time how can I not?

Tears keep rolling down my cheeks. I am not ok. I am scared and all I can do is keep trying even when it hurts the most.

I can’t go to sleep on my own without tears rolling down my cheeks and for that I hate you.

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I will not be a robot anymore

It’s time to open up again. After my therapy session I had no energy left to deal with my feelings so this weekend I have suppressed it and enjoyed living in the moment instead. Unfortunately that usually means that I a few days later feel so much worse than if I had not shut off my feelings. But sometimes I have no choice, I don’t have the energy to not be ok so sometimes even just even for a weekend I need to pretend that I am ok.

I notice a difference in how I feel now compared to six months ago. It’s like I have a different depth in my feelings and more levels in how I can feel. Since I have turned off my emotions for so many years, I’ve somehow got me a relatively one-dimensional emotional scale. Now that I have started working with myself , my emotional scale has expanded and it’s scary when feelings I have never experienced before comes forward. I wish it was easier to put  feelings into words, how do you describe a feeling never before experienced? It’s like describing a color you’ve never seen, a smell you never smelled or a taste you never tasted. It is somewhat how I feel, I feel in a way I never felt so it’s next to impossible to describe.

I have all my life since the abuse began, lived in the role. It’s hard to explain but I’ve lived a bit like a robot. My survival strategy was to always make sure to focus on something that takes up all my energy so that there is no energy left over for scary thoughts or feel how I really feel. I’ve always been told;

“I do not understand how you have the energy,”
“I do not understand how you can do it all!”
“You’re the strongest person I know.”

The truth behind that is that I have not had any choice. I have focused so much on things and engaged myself in a lot only to not have time for myself. I have created myself an identity as being the good one. By creating an identity, I did not show the real me, and by performing at most things, I was never questioned. There are not many who question the one who delivers great results, as does what is expected and who outwardly acts normal.

Today I am looking for the courage to be just me. I can not wake up every morning and go into a role. I do not want to live my life like a robot. I want to have feelings and all that it entails, both the positive and negative. It’s all new to me to be with other people when I’m just me. I fear what they’ll think about the real me. The reason I lived my life in a role is to protect myself. It has acted as a protective barrier around me. I built a wall between me and the world in terms of the role I have taken. When someone has not liked me, I could blame it on the role and then not have to deal with the fact that they do not like me. I think I’ve protected myself because I have been so damaged and hurt inside that my only salvation was that I have excluded the possibility of more pain.

I met a guy. I actually think I might begin to like him. I have realized that he is actually the first guy who can get to know the real me. It makes me scared, because if he does not like me, I can not blame it on something other than that he does not like me for who I am. I want to dare to give this a try. I’m angry that what I have been exposed to still hunts me. I will dare. I’m terrified. I will defeat my fear. I will dare to see where it goes regardless of the outcome. I do not want to live my life without daring to feel real. I’m ready to take the risk of being hurt. Life is no bed of roses, and just because I have been exposed to something no one should have to live through, I will not give up. Shit, it’s time for me to begin dare to live for real!

You made me into a robot and for that I hate you

 

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My weekly session

I’m in the waiting room, it’s time for my weekly appointment with my therapist. It’s 45 minutes of nothing but the truth. I never know what the session will be about because as soon as the door closes and I open up not even I know what will come out of my mouth. All I know that it is exhausting but that I feel better afterwards.

You screwed me up and for that I hate you

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I am not a whore

It is almost midnight, I’ve turned off all the lights, brushed my teeth and I’m all cuddled up in my bed with my computer in my lap. It is time for yet another try to put words on my story, to keep sharing and trying to let what I feel inside out. I stare at the screen and my fingers wont move, every time the same procedure and then like if a lighting would hit me my fingers dance across the keyboard and my story appears on the screen.

Rape is a type of sexual assault usually involving sexual intercourse, which is initiated by one or more persons against another person without that person’s consent. A person who commits an act of rape is known as a rapist. The act may be carried out by physical force, coercion, abuse of authority or with a person who is incapable of valid consent.

That is how Wikipedia defines what a rape is. In my case rape is a type of sexual abuse involving sexual intercourse initiated by one person and the rapist carried it out with abuse of authority. My rapist was an excellent manipulator, the best one I have ever met, and he knew exactly what to say and do to keep me in his imaginary cage. In the beginning I searched for a way out and I tried to fight the situation I was stuck in but after a while I gave in. First of all I was only 13 and I think the what was happening to me chock me and I didn’t realise it until it had been several months of it. Then came the shame, the shame of what was done to me and then I couldn’t tell because of the shame because what if they said it was my own fault and I was the one to blame. I remember thinking “What is the point in telling when then maybe wont even believe me”. 

Before I knew it a year had gone by and by now I was the best liar you could find among 14-year-old girls. I lied to everyone “Where have you been? Whats wrong? Where did you get money from? Why didn’t you answer when I tried to call?” . Loads and loads of question and I always had an answer ready, I lied more than I told the truth. The worst part is that I lied to myself but I had to, how would I otherwise make it out of bed every single day during these years. The worst lie I told myself every day was “I am ok”. I promise you, I was not.

Why did I keep it all to myself? Fear!
That is the reason why I never told, I was so scared of what would happen if I tried to tell. He had his strategies, he knew they would work, to force me to shut up. He used to put money on my bank account. He told me that it was my own fault when I “made him pay”. I never wanted the money but I couldn’t prevent him from putting it on my account. He made me feel like a whore. And I never asked for money the only think I begged for was for him to stop. He threatened me but the worst threat was never what he would do to me it was what he would do to the ones I loved. How could I justify that someone else got hurt just so that he would stop hurting me? I couldn’t. So I didn’t tell. I kept my mouth shut, I turned off all my emotions and whenever he called I cried inside as I spread my legs.

Maybe I should believe in Karma because in that case my life looks pretty good from here. I hope I have had my years of hell.

My birthday is coming up, I’m turning 26. I’m proud of what I have accomplished so far. Academically I have done much more than I ever though I was capable of, and  I have travelled the world and been to more places than some people ever dream of visiting. So from that point of view I don’t mind turning 26 but I have never really lost my virginity to someone who cares, I havent truly loved someone because I have been too scared to let my emotions out and I’ve missed out on so much during the years of the assault because I lived my life as a robot with no emotions. Emotionally  Im only ready to turn 21. He stole so many years from me, It is not ok to steal somethink that you can never get back.

You stole years of my childhood and for that I hate you.

 

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Fighting for a smile

I woke up with a fighting spirit today so today I’m gonna fight for good day. I deserve a good day with normal thoughts where I can enjoy the simplicity of just a normal Thursday.

“I’m gonna fight, for the right to control my own life”

Somedays I have to fight for my smile and for that I hate you!

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You locked me in a cage

There is so much I want to tell and so many feelings that I want to describe but it is like climbing up a hillside covered in soap. I keep trying but I just keep slipping back and it takes several tries before I manage to get somewhere. I want to share my story and I need to share it, because after I finish a post I read it out loud to myself and it is like if it is the first time I ever hear it. It is like I can’t process what I’ve been through and accept my feelings before I have put them in words and read them. It is so unreal and I’ve denied it for so many years that I managed to suppress it to the level where I need to hear it before I can believe it. It is like watching a movie and realising that the movie is about yourself. I don’t cry when I write the posts but I cry when I read them, I cry so much that my entire body shivers.

I suppressed what I’ve been through in order to survive, I couldn’t handle it and I couldn’t deal with it. I fled, not physically but mentally by trying to say that I only had myself to blame, it could be worse and that sex doesn’t mean anything. I learned how to live without emotions because as soon as I started to let myself feel my entire chest ached to the level where I could barely breathe. I kept not feeling even after it stopped, I was afraid that if I let go and started to process it I couldn’t bare what was hidden underneath.

It has been 6 years since the last time he sexually assaulted me and still he is the reason it hurts when I breathe, the reason I am terrified to death to fall in love because that means having sex with emotions and that I can’t do, the reason I fled my hometown and are miles away from my loved ones and the reason to so many other things.

He stole my virginity, I was 13 and he was 29. He was obese, bad teeth, poor hygiene and always with a cigarette between his lips. He was manipulative and he held my in an imaginary cage for 7 years. By imaginary cage I mean that he know what he would say to make sure that I wouldn’t tell and that I would keep showing up when he called. My therapist told me that it is still not to late to report him to the police and I realised when she said that, that I am still terrified of him. His words still echoes in my head. I havent seen him for several years and yet I am scared to death of him. Will this feeling of being terrified of him ever go away?

You held me in an imaginary cage and for that I hate you

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I had a dream

Last night I dreamt I was pregnant. It was one of those dreams that felt like reality and when I woke up it took a few moments to relies it was just a dream. It was he who had made me pregnant and I remember feeling so helpless, a feeling of panic because I dreamt that I didn’t notice the pregnancy until it was to late to have an abortion. A feeling of being trapped, having to have my rapists child and being disgusted of what was inside me. He never got me pregnant and I don’t know if I would have survived it. But the feeling of being helpless and trapped that I felt in the dream was the same feelings I lived with hour after hour, day after day as the years with the abuse went by and I think that was what made the dream feel so real.

This week has been a real struggle and I’ve felt sick, sad, hurt, disgusted and so much more. But as I have said before I know I have to go through it before I can come out on the other side even though it hurts unimaginably much along the way. Yesterday I stayed home and tried to deal with the pain, it felt like bleeding inside but it helped because today I had an ok day which felt like heaven compared to yesterday.

I hate this. I hate not being ok. I hate him. I hate that there are people who do this to others. I hate that some days I just don’t have the energy to fight.

You are still stealing my days and for that I hate YOU!

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