I get this urge to tell my story to the world sometimes but as soon as I open my mouth I can’t to get a single word out. I get scared. I’m scared that it will make people judge me. I blamed myself for so many years, that scarred me, and I am afraid that when I tell my story people will say that it is partly my fault. Rape victims blame their self sometimes just because they didn’t scream or fight back, they don’t realise that that was their best shot at surviving. I never screamed, I didn’t fight but I did everything just to survive. Every morning I got up, I lived through it even when it was impossible. All my strength went to just surviving, I had no strength left to fight it. I learned to live with it. When I look back I wish that I would have screamed as loud as I could until my lungs bursted. It’s hard to live with the fact that I did not fight back, my therapist says that it is a surviving mechanism to enter auto mode when something like this happens to you. I’m trying to forgive myself for not fighting but it is really hard. I am so hurt and trying to deal with it and taking my life back brings back all memories.
For years I’ve denied and suppressed it, I did everything to try to find other explanations to what I’ve been through. I had sex with people I didn’t want to have it with just to relive the feeling of disgust and angst, because if I felt like that after sex maybe what happened to me wasn’t as bad as I was afraid it was? It didn’t help at all, it made it worse and made me want to crawl out of my skin. He has affected every moment of my life since the day he stole my virginity. First I lived with the sexual abuse, threats and manipulation for 6 years, when it finally came to an end I had to live with what I had been through. I had never said a word and until a year ago I had never said it when being sober. It wasn’t my fault and yet it made me feel ashamed of what I’ve been trough and i just couldn’t tell. It has created a wall between me and my family, they don’t understand why I have reacted and behaved as I have when growing up. I dont blame them even if I wish that they had seen that something was wrong. I think something’s that i did as a teenager was a silent cry for help, a whisper of see me see me save me!. But they didn’t and I did not scream either. I hope that I one day will find the courage to tell, I want them to know and I think I need them to know. I’m terrified that they will blame their self if and when I tell them. But if they don’t know my story they will never really know me and I owe them that because they are great parents. The fact that they were going through a divorce at the time matters, I don’t blame them for not seeing me when they were hurting so much for breaking up our family. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t see me and yet a part of me is so angry with them that I’m shivering.How could they not see me?
You made me blame myself and for that I hate you