Tag Archives: rape

Try to discuss your sex life in detail with your uncle

I have not told more than a handful of my closest friends and family about this blog and yet I had about 200 visitors last month. This means that you who have visited the blog has found your way here on your own, I do not know if it’s good or bad. Good because it is important that things like this comes up to the surface so it does not become something to be ashamed of. Bad because some of you may have ended up on my blog because you’ve been through something similar, and I do not mean bad that you ended up here but tragic that it happened to you too. I feel for you. 

I have a wish that one day I can be the public with my blog, I know I write that you should not be ashamed that you the victim of a rapist while I am not ready to stand for it myself. I really do not know why, I do not feel ashamed and I do not want it to be something that must be kept secret. I just want to be strong enough to handle the comments that comes with it, from those who think that rape is something you must blame yourself for. I do not understand how these people think, unfortunately they do exist. Narrow minded idiots. 

At the moment I am at a crossroad, I don’t know which way to go from here. I know I am not done with therapy but at the same time I am not ready for more therapy right here and right now, it have to wait.  When I have had my darkest and toughest moments I wished for someone to know what it was like, I didn’t want to know the person because that would be too much. I can’t really explain it but when it comes to rape it is so shameful and sickening so talking about it is really hard, especially with people you know. Try to talk to your mum, dad, brother or sister about your sex life, as detailed as possible and you can understand what I mean. Maybe helping others can heal me but next problem is I don’t really know how to help others. Any ideas? I want this to end up in something good, I don’t want this to only result in struggle, self-destruction and depression. I know that if I can create something out of this, it will be easier to live with. 

I want a normal sex-life, dont know it that is ever going to happen. That really really sucks. Just had to share it.

 

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Shame on you!

This blog is my naked story, I don’t hide anything and it is my words describing exactly how I am feeling. I try to write about absolutely everything, because rape isn’t just affecting you when it happens it affects your everyday life, everyday for the rest of your life. This is my diary, I have decided to write in a public media so others can read it because I know how important it is to not keep a story like this to your self. The shame that comes with it makes it harder to share and we need to make this an ok thing to talk about. We need to get rid of the shame in telling the world you have been raped. You would tell the world if you wore robbed, beaten or cheated on but not that you were raped. This is wrong, this is the shame talking and the rapist winning.

Sometimes I need a break from the blog, because what I write is so loaded with shame and anxiety that I am almost disgusted by my own words. My own worlds are to strong for me to handle.  Sometimes I read the post loud to myself, it is amongst the most painful experiences but it helps me. It helps me to listen to my own story and to accept that it is ok to be hurt. Reading it out loud is like the final statement that this has actually happened to me.

Even those days where I feel absolutely great, where everything just feels so right this hangs over me like a dark cloud. I can cuddle in bed with my man and from nowhere my rapists face is stuck on my cornea, I feel sick and I have to put all my energy and focus on not throwing up. This instead of being able of enjoying life and love. I need to write this, I need to put this in words so that I can remind myself that it is ok. I can’t control life but I can make the most out of it, I can either be stuck in my past or I can take control of it.  It took me years before I could tell my closest my story, It was the hardest thing I have ever done but It has also given me the greatest rewards. I now have the support that I need, If I don’t tell, I let the rapist win. The shame is his, not mine. I am giving it back.

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anniversary of going public with the rapes

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It is hard to figure out how to live my life. I am tired of being where I am but at the same time I know change and letting go takes time. I am trying ti accept that I cannot change everything at once,  time heals so time has to take just time.  I guess it is because it is hard that I want it to be over quicker, everything thag hurts you want done as quick as you can but this has no quick fix. It is part of more than half my life. I just relized it must soon be almost exactly a year since I told my parents.  No wonder I am all messed up.

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I wish you were raped

My attorney texted me yesterday telling me all charges against him would be dropped due to lack of evidence. My story was not enough. He had denied. The prosecutor had decided that there was nothing in the case that supported the accusation of sex with a minor. I want to be angry but all I feel is empty, disbelieved and dirty. I feel like there is nothing more to life because what he did to me has fucked my entire life up. I screw up every relation I have, he stole my right to be a kid and a teenager and it effects everything every fucking day!

How will I get my life back?

I keep surfing for motivational quotes, it sais “never never never give up”, “you never know how strong you are until you had to be” and “if the storm doesnt kill you it will make you stronger”. My storm has lasted for more than half of my life, it isnt blowing any less and it definately feels like it is breaking me apart and not building me up.

I know I will never give up, beacuse if I was to give up I would have done it years ago. I am just so fed up with this, when will it end? When will I get my life back? 

I texted my family, best friends and boyfriend the news yesterday. I couldnt talk to them, it would like be that hug that you cant accept when your on the verge of breaking down and it would push me over the edge. I know I would fall and hit ground so hard that all scars holding my wounds together would break.

I dont know where to go from here or what to do. I feel trapped. I feel let down. I feel worse than I have for a very long time. Worst of all I feel ashamed that this is my story and for that I hate him.

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I am disgusting.

Most of the time I consider myself to be non beautiful. It feels like I weigh 16 stones and I know that I don’t but that doesn’t matter because it is how I feel that matters. I’m struggling with feeling beautiful in my body, I feel disgusted, fat, used, molested and sometimes I just want to crawl out of my skin. I feel loads better when I eat healthy and exercise regularly the problem is that when I have my periods of depression I don’t have the energy to fight my bad thoughts. When I’m at the lowest I just want to eat, I eat until I feel sick because then I can blame the disgusting feelings on the food and not the real reason, which is that I can’t stand my own body because its been raped over 300 times. Where do I go from here? I’m sick of being fat and feeling disgusted by own body, I want to own my own body. I want to feel beautiful and I don’t mind having curves but I want to have them because I eat what I enjoy not because I eat so that I can survive just another hard period.

What I’ve been through has affected me in so many ways, it’s a long way to go but I will fight every step of it. Admitting my problem with food and how I feel about my body is a step. It’s a hard step because if you meet me, you wont be able to tell how I feel about myself. On the outside, you wont see any of what I write in this blog because I keep it to myself. Shame is not something you share is it something you hide.

Here is the truth, out load;

I am not comfortable in my own skin and how I feel don’t  match how I look. So when I have a dark moment I punish myself with eating loads just so my looks will match my feelings, the feelings of disgust and shame. Most of the time I feel so disgusted by myself I feel sick.

This is hurtful, I want to feel good about myself. I want to be able to be naked and not feeling used. There is so much shame, shame that I shouldnt carry but that I am stuck with. 

 

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Pretty smile hides dark secret

I’m sitting, I’m starring, I’m feeling, I’m hurting, I’m breathing, I’m trying. There is a lot of “I’m” but if you would see me through my livingroom window right now all you would see is a girl sitting on her couch with a laptop in her knee. You wouldn’t see all the “I’m” because no one can tell the struggle I feel inside just from looking at me. Right now there is a war inside of me, there is a lot of “I want to“and there are more of “But I just don’t”. It’s not that I don’t want to deal with my emotions, write my story, let the pain out and all of that it is just that; I’m sitting, I’m starring, I’m feeling, I’m hurting, I’m breathing, I’m trying.

I want to write down my story so I can report the rapist, the sexual abuser, the one who stole something to the police. I’ve even opened the document and I can’t even bare to read what has already been written. That is how much it hurts to face what I’ve been through. Writing the story is accepting that it has really happened and it happened to me. I keep thinking that I’m passed the accepting phase but I just realised that I’m not because if I were I wouldn’t avoid writing the rest of the story. I think I have accepted that it happened to me but not all of what it means. I still can’t say it out loud;

  • I have been raped

  • I have been sexually abused

As soon as the two sentences above was written I caught myself looking everywhere else but on the computer screen. It’s hard to keep writing, because there it is in black bold letters. It is my story. My past. My secret. My pain. With tears in my eyes I try to force myself to read it, over and over and over and over again. I don’t know what else to do, what else can I do? I keep telling myself that for every time I read it I take one step closer to realising that I can’t escape it. It is what it is. It will never be easy, it will never go away but one day maybe I can read it and not look away. I hope that I can turn it around, find some kind of strength in it. I need to find a positive outcome of it because without it, whats the point in fighting it?

I’ve learned one thing from it. Never ever judge a person on his or her looks, smile or eyes. The saying never judge a man without walking a day in his shoes is pure human knowledge. Even the prettiest smiles, the kindest eyes and the most fashionable looks can hide the deepest pain, the darkest secrets and the blackest past. We have all had different opportunities in how to handle situations so painful you’re thinking of giving up breathing just to stop the unbearable pain. You could never tell what I live through every day by just looking at me, you cant even tell by knowing me. I am a living example of that the prettiest smiles hides the darkest secrets. So “Dont ever judge a man without walking a day in hus shoes”.

Im gathering all the courage I have, I need it, it is story from hell telling time.

“We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane or insane. Saints or sex addicts. Heroes or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are. Letting our past decide our future. Or we can decide for ourselves. And maybe it’s our job to invent something better.” -Chuck Palahniuk

It still hurts every day and for that I hate you.

 

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What is my heart really feeling?

I’m sitting on my kitchen floor, crying. I’m surviving, I’m breathing, I’m healing and I’m hurting. I’m far from okey and worse then I’ve been in a while but I feel a fighting spirit within me that I haven’t felt before.

There are different phases of healing from a trauma and tonight I hit the anger phase. I want to scream! Kick! Hit! Run! I am so fucking angry! I did not chose this to be a part of my life and yet I am the one who has to live with all the damages it caused me.

Who gave him the right to rape me?
Who gave him the right to sexually abuse me?
Who the fuck does he think he is?
I feel pure hate.

But this is my life, this is a part of my history no matter if I chose it to be or not. I have to find a way to live with it. I have to grieve over the fact that it happened, I have to find a way to accept that it has happened and that no matter what I do it will always be a part of my life. I need to be angry. I need to be sad and I need to feel everything I need to feel. First of all I need to find the courage to feel at all, asking my heart how it feels is terrifying.

How am I really feeling today according to my heart?
Really really scared, alone, hurt and angry.

I am scarred for life and for that I hate you.

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underlying story wanting to be told

My therapist asked me if I wrote a diary during the years with the assault. I asked my mum if she could go through my old stuff and see if it was there, and it was. I have had it for a few days now. Today I took it out from the bag. The first post is written in november of 2001, the year I turned 15 and at that time the abuse had been going on for more than 2 years. I bought a blank notebook and on the front page I have a photo of myself, I teared it up before gluing it on. The text on it is written with newspaper letters, it’s all black and white, no colors to light it up and just from looking at it you can tell that I was not ok.  The text on the front sais:

This little girl wants to leave, but where would she go?”
” I say NO!”
“Don’t feel sorry for me” 

Why is everybody against me?”
I stared at it for at least an hour before I found the courage to open it, I honestly had no clue what I would find in it. It is about 80 pages written during 2001-2005. I read it. I hadn’t written a single word about the abuse, the sexual assault and the rapes but if you read between the lines it is obvious there is an underlying story wanting to be told.

At 16 I had written:
I got discipline, because I laugh when all I want to do is cry”
“I cried a river but havent shared a single tear, soon I will drown in uncried tears.”
I’m emotional disabled, maybe have I during my 16 year-long life got the wrong idea of what love is”

I know that I need to write down everything that happened but I don’t know where and how to start. Its like climbing a mountain blindfolded and with a broken leg. Today I opened a document and saved it, I havent written anything in it yet but just saving a document is a great step for me. I will get it done, I want to but it’s going to take time because this is no easy story to tell.

You gave me a story to tell, a story no one should have to tell and for that I hate you,

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Uncensored story from hell

Even though I slept more than 10 hours last night I am exhausted. I have had several cups of coffee and yet I am exhausted. Not even the shining sun gives enough energy for me to not be exhausted.

My friends met me at the train station yesterday, the walked me to the police office, they waited outside to help me to keep breathing afterwards, they stayed with me the entire day, night and are still here. That’s real friends, they don’t care if you have enough energy to admit that you need them, they know that you need them and with no questions asked, they are there.

The meeting lasted for an hour but it felt like forever. I didn’t make the official police report but I asked all the questions I need to have answer to in order to do it. The next step is to try to write down everything I remember and try to sort the memories according to when they occurred. That will be ,by far, the hardest thing I have done, having to remember everything that I for so many years done everything in my power to forget. There are reasons why I have suppressed them. Until now I have only told the “surronding” story, I havent dealt with any of the actual “abuse and rape” memories. I don’t even know how to deal with them, thinking of them makes me sick. Writing them in words, where will I find the strength to do that? The smells, the feelings, the environment everything that happened, in actual life and in my head. Everything is of importance, I need to tell the story the best as I can because the more I am able to remember and describe, the greater is the chance that he will be convicted for it. Tomorrow I will buy a notebook, I plan to carry it everywhere so when a memory pops up I will catch it and write it down. Part of hell starts now but I think I have to run through hell in order to get out if it. This wont be easy, it wont feel better but I know that in the end far from here it is a necessary step to take in order to reach the end.

Knowing what comes next, telling the real uncensored story, that is what makes me exhausted. Coffee, sleep and sun wont help, just breathing and keep going no matter what will lead me through it, and my friends and family. Hell is exhausting.

 

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Charged batteries and ready to report!

It’s been a while since I posted on this blog. Writing here means facing my feelings and the last few weeks I have been putting my feelings off trying to charge my batteries and just being a normal student.¨

After I told my parents it was like if I was drained, I had no energy left. I never thought I would tell them so when I did it took all of what I had to do it. When they knew, my brother and sister and the rest of the most important people in my life knew and I saw my pain in their eyes, I could finally relax for a while. I knew that I wasnt alone anymore and that I would never ever carry this on my own. It has taken me a few weeks to accept that they know and right after I told them I wish I hadn’t because the feeling of never being able to suppress it or ignore it again was terrifying. From this moment no matter how hard it gets the story is told and I can’t act like it never happened. When I started therapy I was afraid that when it got to though I would do like always, flee, ignore and suppress untill it didn’t hurt anymore. I realise that telling my family ment that I can flee when I can’t handle it because I know they will carry the pain for a while, they share it with me and they will help to get through it even when it is so though that it seems impossible to get through. So I think that is what I have done the last few weeks, I have let them carry my pain for a while meanwhile I have charged my batteries.

I will report it to the police. For me that is a huge step and I know that it will break me but its okay because I know that I will never be able to rebuild my ground unless I break down the one I am standing on for the moment. What he did to me was crime, I don’t know if it will ever leed to him being charged for it but at least I can live with it, I did my best. My dad sent me an article from the news paper today, it was about a similar case where the prosecuted actually got charged as guilty and dad wrote -“It is never to late”.  It doesn’t matter that it happened several years ago, I relive it every day so for me it is still a part of my present. The actual rape and abuse is in the past but the memories and the feelings I carry with me all day, every day and every where. For me this isn’t the past and reporting it to the police is a part of the process of making it become my past as well. Reporting it means telling it all, every part of it, having to remember things that I promised myself never to remember and telling things to others that I thought would never cross my lips, secrets so deep Im not sure I can find them within me. Im so scared, Im scared because I know it will hurt so bad that I wonder if it is worth to keep breathing and I am scared that they wont believe what I have to say. I know my family does and I have to remember myself that that is what matters. I am also scared that he will hurt me and even more scared that he will hurt someone I love. I am so scared and all I can to is face it. It is like bungyjumping with a safetyline you dont really know if it will work.

Today I ate, I ate loads, I ate untill I felt sick. I couldnt understand why because I wasnt hungry and then I realised; this is me trying to find other ways of feeling bad rather that facing the real reasons. That is what I have done since the sexual abuse started. Either I eat so I feel sick, drink untill I pass out, sleep with guys I don’t want, slam my fist into the wall and much more.  If I feel disgusted I eat in order to try to blame the feeling of being disgusted by myself on the fact that I ate so much. If I want to forget memories that wont go away I drink until I pass out. If I have to prove to myself that sex means nothing in order to try to normalize the abuse and rape I go out and sleep with someone I don’t want to so that I can justify the feeling of being used and raped. If I hurt to bad, I slam my fist into the wall because physical pain is easier to deal with. I realised my behaviour a few months ago and still I do it but the difference is that I can now forgive myself a lot easier because I understand why I do it and that it actually is okay. It is my way of surviving and in the end that is all that matters, that I survive and make it through it.

I will make it and there is no question about it but god damn it is gonna be a long bumpy road there but one day I will stand there with the greatest smile and not having to punish myself anymore. I will be happy because I realised that I deserve it.

For everything you are I hate you.

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