YES more talk about Rape!

My recent posts have primarily been focused on sexual abuse as I adamantly feel that by not speaking out about the topic then we inadvertently are contributing to the dismal lack of awareness on this imperative matter.

Every single horrific experience in my past shaped me into a stronger person as I survived those events despite the wave of devastation they caused. Did you know it is customary procedure for a rape victim to be admitted into a psychiatric ward for the evening after having a rape kit done in order to be on suicide watch? I hadn’t known that- not until I was told by my nurse that they felt I didn’t need to. In fact it was around 4 am when all was said and done at the hospital and my friends that said they would pick me up did not answer their phones unfortunately. So I took a cab home by myself in the early morning darkness back to the scene of the crime- which was my own house. If that doesn’t scream strength then honestly I don’t know what on earth does?!

Here is a chilling excerpt of the “awareness” we have:

“Republican nominee for Senate Richard Mourdock’s recent “misspeaking” is unexceptional. Despite what he may have meant when he said “even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape that… is something God intended to happen,” he is unexceptional.”
A fair reflection of our cultural tolerance, one without party affiliation, for rape and its qualifications— “Legitimate rape” versus non legitimate rape. “Forcible rape” as “stock language,” “lemons from lemonade.” Women “should make the best of a bad situation,” “horribly created gifts from God,” husbands can’t rape their wives, because of science and technology no woman ever needs an abortion, “emergency rape,”women lie about rape legislation, “honest rape,” rape blackmail, “the sodomized virgin” rape, rape is like auto theft. But, again, all of this goes hand-in-hand with Facebook rape pages, Daniel Tosh rape jokes, Reddit rapist threads, music, videos, movies, ad infinitum.”
(retrieved online via http://www.huffingtonpost.com/soraya-chemaly/50-facts-rape_b_2019338.html)

I realized after 12 years of repressing memories that I had been sexually violated more times than I had even realized! And the scariest part of being in my previous ignorance was an evening when I had a traumatic nightmare painfully revealing that my own ex had raped me several times as I said NO and his response was “That’s MY S**t!” and refused to stop. I have a multitude of stories that I won’t get into right now as my body physiologically responds with redness and flushing heat to my cheeks along with red heated blotchy marks all over my chest with intense panicked tightening. Breathing becomes labored. Faintness upon standing ensues as I just walked to get some water. I always ask myself Why, Why, WHY….? So many brutal questions that I cannot fathom an answer to as I do not fully understand the rhyme or reason to it all….

Bad things happen to good people all the time they say, however that is not a means of comfort in the least bit. I don’t know about other PTSD sufferers but I find it extremely difficult to cry when I think or talk about what has happened to me in my past. Crying is a healthy way provided by nature in order to help you release negative energy from your soul. No matter how hard I try mine seems to grasp on to the pain, and I find myself unable to muster the courage to attempt letting it go.

 Join me in standing up and putting our voices together boldly speaking with heads held high. My intended goal is to help women navigate through this excruciating minefield, and empower them to report these crimes so charges can be pressed! No more Silence! I did even though nothing came to fruition as there was not enough evidence (I was drugged), and then my rapist died before the corroborating witness that finally came forward could get my case reopened. It’s not about vengeance- It’s the deserved right to have justice! No more Victims- let’s become Victors!

Every voice matters- I implore you to awaken yours too!

Once, Twice, Three times a Victim

That is not how the chorus of that classic song goes. I know those lyrics well but changed the words to aptly describe me and the story I am about to tell. I have to wonder just how many times it takes for a wide eyed, bushy tailed, rose colored glasses clad person to constantly just walk themselves into a world of pain. One must be crazy to jump so quickly into trust when it should not necessarily be there, but it keeps happening to me time and time again. Of course my mind jumped to Einstein’s quote of the definition of insanity. Yes I am fully aware of the similarities- because WHY on earth do I keep expecting a different result?

I have yet to make public all the many times I have been sexually attacked. Maybe it’s fear of being judged or perhaps not wanting to be identified as only a victim.
The following story goes to show just how dangerous naivety can be. I no longer want to keep all my skeletons in the closet, so I will attempt to air out one more from the plethora I have to choose from.
Here goes nothing yet again……

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It was 2 months shy of a week before the 1 year mark of my previous rape. Cruel people that will never understand have referred to remembering that day as “making an anniversary out of it”, but that is not the case. When you have PTSD unfortunately it comes back with a big bang of unwanted memories as these become triggers that easily take us back to the day it happened in our minds. It feels like yesterday… or the exact time of the atrocious act. It might be seeing the location, a certain smell, a movie with a similar situation, or even a song that can instantly transport you back in time. Crippling, disabling, and devastation revisits in the blink of an eye.

So on this particular day I had this photo-shoot . An easy one to do as they were just head-shots which means less shooting and editing time. Easy Peasy. The man I was photographing was very attractive. He was the tall, dark, and handsome cliche, but also very Very cocky. I generally like to take a guy down a notch when they place themselves and their ego on such a high pedestal- Not in a mean way more it’s like I feel free to be my silly wacky self as I know I’m not interested in the slightest bit, so why not playfully tease a little? Harmless good fun for me and them in actuality… Normally…

I should not have agreed to meet “A” at his house but he refrained from sending me pictures of his suits and ties claiming they looked better on so I needed to see them in person beforehand, and we had chatted several times on the phone so against my better judgement I agreed. He answered the door without a shirt on, only workout pants. He adoringly spoke of his career change from being a top personal trainer for various organizations but now changing to follow his true passion of being in the finance world, so thus the need for head-shots. I confidently walked in to his bedroom where the pile of suits and shirts were, and also the circular rack of about 100 ties. Choosing the ones I wanted he grudgingly tries them on in front of me despite me looking away. He took my undeserved flattering compliment that what I chose would bring out the colors in his eyes (thankfully I don’t even remember the details of what the “windows of his soul” looked like) and the whole ensemble I put together with one other outfit change to maximize my time shooting was all set.

I insisted these were the best choice of using bolder colors and options to go against the somewhat plain buildings downtown that I had chosen. Against my better judgement (again) I agreed to drive with him since parking down there can be quite horrendous. His Hummer car we drove in was a clear way to flex his other muscles of material success, so believe me I heard PLENTY along that ride! *Gag* Could your ego be any bigger? I highly doubt it!- Sorry a personal pet peeve of mine. I don’t care that you have an expensive status symbol which drives the least fuel efficient tank, or your corvette he said he uses for work and such. Material things don’t matter much to me- I am not impressed by that- in fact it can become appalling to me when people place such importance on these things instead of engaging in soul searching to get to the core of why they feel this need to gloat their successes as a means to impress the opposite sex. Sorry Charlie I am not that kind of girl. Look elsewhere, and I am sure he did immediately after this was all said and done.

We got back to his apartment and he made up some BS challenge betting me that I wouldn’t be able to guess how many texts or calls he had missed in the about an hour of downtown shooting we had done. So I was moderately curious and said “OK how about around 40 Mr. Big Shot?”, but apparently it was around the 50 mark (maybe that was contrived with buddies that knew of his plans or perhaps girls that did want to hookup with him.) I’m not sure but it is definitely a plausible query that he might have asked his circle to text him a bunch inflating his confidence that I would be so-called putty in his hands so that he could score later. Speculation of course though. *Shuddering thinking of that possibility now*

Well I am a Bit strong willed and never go back on my word, so since I did not have any plans that night because sadly mine canceled the night proceeded forward. The inevitable terms of the challenge were: hang out, have a couple drinks, and play our mutually loved game on his Xbox. No Harm No Foul I figured as nothing was out of line (Even though I was already kicking myself that I should have driven myself to the shoot so I would have been free to peace out) … But my car was at his place…
And immediately he used defaming talk about Women how they think they can hold their drinks but then are such pussies (antagonizing much?!) I’m like HA! Not me buddy- those would be Girls you are referring to and I am a WOMAN! A strong single mom is who I am- used to carrying the world on my shoulders for myself and my dear sweet child with autism!

I never default on my word (to my detriment frequently) so I said that I would stay for a couple drinks and play our mutually favorite game that he didn’t believe that I loved. And then the first attempt happened… He started putting his hand on my leg and pulled my neck towards him so he could kiss me… And I pulled away. I was seeing someone at the time that I was head over heels for SO I especially had no intentions whatsoever. Befuddled at my rejection he stopped and we resumed playing the war game that we were battling- fitting for what would happen later!

After quite a but later he started moving closer to me on the couch clearly with the attempt to give it another go, but I stopped him again. “Let’s just play the game can’t we? I said. At this point I started to become especially leery as he then proceeded to go off on a tangent about how women always do this- act interested then don’t hookup as they are afraid to be branded a “Slut”. I started debating him saying how that is a very callous over-generalization and also an insulting assumption to unfairly put all women together into an intrepid pool that some absolutely do not belong to be in! Certainly some might, but that was bold-faced clear arrogance and ignorance to demean women like that! The hairs on the back of my neck started rising now, but since I had a couple drinks I didn’t want to leave right away as I do not ever drive if I have drank anything out of sheer paranoia. I suppose that is why he kept shoving booze in my face since that must have been what he was planning/hoping for. I constantly pushed away his drink offerings as I’m generally just a 2 drink girl with at least 2-4 waters in order to balance it out until I feel confident to be A-Ok to drive.

Talking to him a few minutes afterwards he then became infuriated and lunges at me picking me up like a china doll over his shoulder saying “I KNOW you want it you’re just acting like you don’t!!”, and then proceeded to secure my wrists in his hands while throwing me onto his bed repeating his former sentiment about me not wanting to admit I wanted him- that I was being a “Stupid girl playing F*cked up games”. Even though I kept on adamantly refusing. Being a former gym aficionado he was not kidding about all the things he bragged before about being able to hold all his body strength with one arm from the ground and other supposed world records he had made. He was freakishly scary strong.

My arms were pinned against me above my head, and even though I kept squirming to get away he wouldn’t release my wrists or get off of me as he was repeatedly subjecting me to violation. As I had already had quite a few other experiences similar to this I said NO loudly only to have him laugh saying that “You’ll never be able to overpower me” and his grip tightened. No matter how hard I tried and cried I could not move. Even though he was not the biggest of guys since he had so many different types of training under his belt it made things damn near impossible for a 127 pound woman to have the upper body strength to push him off or even knee him in the groin as my legs were being straddled to avoid that. Especially with both of my wrists still bound by his one of his hands above my head (I have incredibly small wrists). This went on for what felt like forever as he kept kissing me and my exposed flesh groping and pressing into me.

I never stopped telling him NO begging him to stop as the tears continued streaming down my face as this triggered old now reawakened demons in my closet. I still frantically was still trying to get free while his words of how “You couldn’t stop me no matter how hard you fight- Stop fighting it!!?” deafeningly rang in my ears. I tried not focusing on them only battling to regain my freedom as the tears kept falling down my cheeks like rain until finally he say “I’m going to rip your panties off”….. Immediately I used the seemingly only last ditch method of defense by whispering to him still shaking saying “I was raped last year almost to the day here SO Sex Will NOT Be Happening!!?

I shocked this sexual assaulter with these words and thankfully he then released me obviously realizing what an absolutely disgusting piece of scum he was. Who knows that might have saved my life since he was so angry at me. Oh but then proceeded to offer me a hug- ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING ME?!? I was still sitting on the side of the bed sobbing and shaking, find my clothes that he had pulled off while I was still pinned to his bed, and then bolted out the door. It took me awhile to find them and also my keys (which I knew where I had left my keys so I have no doubt in my mind that he hid them).

I couldn’t process what had happened… Did I almost get raped again?… I was attacked and so close to it ALL happening again only this time I wasn’t drugged so I remember EVERY detail. I couldn’t think or barely see straight. I was in shock and unable to process what happened. I sped home in a foggy daze then quickly tried to erase my thoughts. Did that really just happen? It felt like I had watched it happening from the ceiling looking down paralyzed. Like viewing a movie screen- unable to fathom what was reality or what was not. Did this just happen only several minutes ago…?

Should I have gone to get what would be my second rape kit done? There would be no fluids found except saliva, the bruising on my wrists, and obvious other sorts of DNA from him on me. Especially if my case would’ve been taken seriously they could have combed his apartment for my hairs that most likely were pulled out- unless he cleaned up.The trauma he did put inside me with his fingers would have left DNA too had I realized it at the time. I wish I had called the cops… so very much.

I just couldn’t stop shaking and in an effort of self preservation I guess I just tried my hardest to brush the whole thing off hoping to numb and convince myself that nothing happened since he didn’t actually enter me (just fingers- which after SO many times of begging him to stop he wouldn’t- he would only dementedly laugh).

I just immediately started blaming myself on what could have happened, and how stupid I was to put myself into such a compromising situation even though previously we had bantered back and forth like brother and sister, so I didn’t feel warning signals of danger. However lo and behold those hairs on the back of my neck kicked in and I should have just driven down the road to a Walgreen’s store or something since I was afraid to drive or go somewhere nearby to a friends who might have been able to knock some sense into me out of these disbelieving paralyzing feelings I couldn’t shake.

• It would have been my fault if I had I not been able to stop him is all I could think. Could have easily been full on rape.
• It was all my fault to not have called the cops.
• I had a very moderately modest tank top dress that wasn’t too short, and I even had worn totally covering boy-cut underwear.
• I looked very professional with my closed-toe Maryjane shoes. I looked professional, confident, and I was being my true silly whacky self just trying to move upward and onward only looking behind from my past and only to my bright future.

Then WHAM I managed to get into yet another life altering situation that was eerily comparative

I was not asking for it at all. Yet I kept minimizing the gravity of it…. along with the self blame/hatred that came with it.
It’s funny that when you start talking about a traumatic experience others flood you with you their own (unfortunately the  Friends and Family you think would be there run away from you all too often though). Hard to not harbor a wee bit of resentment there. That is why I know I will an excellent counselor upon attaining my degrees. I actually started a deeply motivating career change that has helped and empowered me so much knowing that someday soon I will be able to help others that feel lost, depressed, numb, and feel like they have lost everything in their lives like I did. If it wasn’t for my my mother~who is my best friend and my son Lincoln I could have easily spiraled down so far, too far down as my head felt like it was sinking under the waves and I was screaming for help but NO ONE was listening. No not even anyone noticing my head barely staying afloat fighting these all consuming feelings of letting the tide take me under and drown.

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This is JUST not acceptable. I fully intend to start interning at SPARCC who helped me immensely thorough my darkest of days once I have my first degree under my belt by the end of the year hopefully. I want to submerge myself into helping people sooner then later. It is beyond words fulfilling and makes me feel like all the godawful things that happened to me led me to this place of self awareness, self power, and finally self love. That no one can Ever take away from me Ever again.

I know I am strong enough— This is fact not fiction !

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that I can’t make my friends and family understand.

I’m sorry that most of them don’t even want to understand.

I’m sorry I wore that halter top| tank top| dress| mini skirt.

I’m sorry I flirted with you.

I’m sorry I trusted you because you were a friend of my best friend.

I’m sorry I trusted all the rest of you because at one time you were my friends.

Most of all I’m sorry the charges were inconclusive so after me I’m sure you hurt others too.

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

I’m so sorry.

*Explicit* Read this if you Dare…

I have noticed that curse words tend to be 4 letters in length. More importantly I have noticed that every time I try to write rape or even abuse on my Iphone it auto-corrects it to say tape and abide. Even Apple doesn’t want to use or acknowledge these words. It seems to fall into a category of Hush-Hush, Shhhhh, and Don’t talk Don’t tell. Much like the now abandoned rule for homosexuals in the military. Why does this topic receive such little attention and awareness though? When there are murders, robberies, or even car crashes the media instantly leaps and bounds out of their chairs to report every detail of these crises, but in the event of a rape NO ONE bats an eyelash unless they are personally effected by this disaster. God forbid a celebrity were to get abused (like how Rihanna was physically assaulted) because then everyone has a loud voice and rallies for support. What about us commoners who are scared, alone, and have no means to receive any support? Maybe it is because the overall population seems wanting to remain blissfully ignorant and maintain their silence.

I recently read an article that sickened me to my very core: “Fewer than one rape victim in 30 can expect to see her or his attacker brought to justice, shocking new statistics reveal. Although 90 per cent of rape victims said they knew the identity of their attacker, just 15 percent went to the police, telling researchers it was “too embarrassing”, “too trivial” or a “private/family matter”.
(retrieved via http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/100000-assaults-1000-rapists-sentenced-shockingly-low-conviction-rates-revealed-8446058.html)

I knew the man who raped me. And the several others who attacked me. Did I receive justice? No. And I went through the heinous process via police and the emergency room in order to REALLY try to stand up this time. However it was to no avail and only kept things fresh in my mind. Hurting me even more profoundly was the morning I found out about his death (obviously no charges could ever be now) and saw his face plastered all over my Facebook saying what a “Great loss to our community and the art world he was. What a tragedy this was”- How about the tragedy of him violating me repeatedly?

The actress Teri Hatcher from the popular TV show “Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman” had the opportunity and gumption to share her story of sexual abuse on the United Nations day in November of 2014 that was called:

Commemoration of the International Day to End Violence against Women

She held back tears saying “I am 1 of 3 women who was forced to accept violence as a part of their life story…I am the one who yells from the rooftops until those numbers change, until every woman who has faced abuse, feels less alone and safe enough to find the courage to have her own voice. Until violence against women is not a part of any woman’s story. Silence will not be part of mine”! To her I can only say BRAVO!

1 in 3 women…. that could be your mother, sister, or daughter….
Let that sink in….

Later in the interview she goes on to say how she later found out her attacker not surprisingly continued this cycle of abuse with another victim (leopards don’t seem to ever change their spots do they?) and sadly this 11 year old girl had wrapped her head in a towel and shot herself in the head. In her suicide letter Teri’s attacker was revealed and implicated to having been abusing this poor girl for years. How could this have happened? Well society does cast a very unappealing light- using blaming questions like “What were you wearing? Were you drinking?”! “Shaming the victim by saying “Why did you stay?” or “Why didn’t you say something?” Instead of MORE importantly why did her abuse her?! Watch Teri’s inspirational speech I urge you! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFwXrBEQw1E)

The question MUST be asked why/how are there still hundreds of thousands of victims who remain silent for years missing the statute of limitations to press charges, but even sadder are the ones who immediately go and destroy all the evidence in the shower preventing any chance to find proof….?
….I didn’t…. I couldn’t even shower for days and then couldn’t sleep for an entire week.

Every 107 seconds, another American is sexually assaulted.

Here’s the math. According to the U.S. Department of Justice’s National Crime Victimization Survey (NCVS)–there is an average of 293,066 victims (age 12 or older) of rape and sexual assault each year.

For an eye opening quick read the above info was retrieved via https://www.rainn.org/statistics.
This is just NOT acceptable! Do you want to remain part of the problem by hiding away until something like this happens to you or someone you love? Or perhaps join a new movement of awareness and become part of the cure? I have the upmost respect for anyone who is not afraid to speak out and share their thoughts unabashedly… like one of my beloved heroes John Lennon. He openly and outright expressed his disdain for our society demanding to being heard and in doing so had a hand in forever leaving a change in the world. Only the good die young they say- I can’t help but wonder what else he might have had shined some enlightenment on? I dare say the world would be a strikingly better place….

The definition of Insanity – AGAIN

One would think that a person who was robbed and raped 2 years ago this month would have learned the lesson to not trust so easily. Yet here I remain an anomaly that repeatedly jumps into the frying pan time after time again. Putting your hand on the burner to test the heat is one thing however typically the act is not repeated….

A few weeks ago my “best friend” decided to rob and strip my house clean of everything with material value except for this computer I am typing on currently. All my incredibly expensive camera equipment, wall hangings, DVD players, 100’s of DVD’s, video game player and games, BUT worst of all my sweet son Lincoln’s Ipad (with his autism it has helped him so much to becoming more verbal plus semi easier to control out in public during meltdowns). An autistic child’s Ipad- How sick can one person be?? I had been oblivious and now horribly blind-sided to how much of a drug addict she was.
An unfortunate series of events went on these past few months when All of my prescription medicines would disappear. Stupidly I believed her when she blamed our other friend. Then it was her semi sketchy cousin next month. Then I caught her red-handed the following month but when I confronted her 3 times she acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. I dropped it until the next morning and once again finding all my pills gone… ! This time I took a photo of all that was missing and sent it to her saying “How could you do this to me? I have PTSD for goodness sake?!”. Her reply was an immediate (seemingly) heartfelt response about how incredibly sorry she was since when she gets into that “zombie state” she doesn’t even remember how many pills she takes, and claimed to not remember stealing them even tho I assured her I had confronted her 3 times! “I’m so so sorry, I promise I will make it up to you” she says… And naively I believe her. Did that happen? Of course not.

The ONLY reason I had even let her back into my life after cutting her out for a solid 6 months after the rape was to angrily tell her off since I was shocked that she did not bother returning the repeated phone calls from the State Attorney trying to get ahold of her to corroborate my story. Since I had no memory of that night after being rufied (3 beers does not constitute a mind erase) my testimony was not enough because the grueling rape kit I underwent came back inconclusive…

My body told the story without any words needed from the fingered-tipped bruises all over my legs and arms I was covered in with a deep bruise on my butt. Which I was told later she heard loud noises coming from my bathroom so I can only assume I was pressed against my counter to explain that dark purple bruise. The shower curtain and towel racks were pulled off left on the ground. Piles of my puke covered the floor as well. My guest bathroom had indeed become a crime scene.

The night at the hospital getting that dreaded rape kit done I was thankful to have Christine from SPARCC (Safe Place and Rape Crisis Center for those of you that are not aware) come to my room and advocate for me helping me fill out the mountains of paperwork, and the scary stuff like stripping down naked being combed everywhere to collect any sort of DNA. I knew the chances of them finding anything there was slim to none since I do not have very much body hair, and even though I had not showered I did change clothes since mine had vomit stains. My nurse was a very kind woman but nothing like my fellow New Yorker Christine who helped distract me during all the antibiotics, anti-HIV shots injected, along with countless horse pills, and of course intense questioning. We had thought provoking conversations about philosophy, religion, and other topics to keep us entertained- even laughing despite the situation.
However when the moment came finally all prepped and ready for the doctor to come in for the pelvic exam, swabbing, and examination of my vagina the VERY moment his fingers touched me I instantly burst into tears. I hadn’t cried that entire time. The slightest touch from this male doctor (how insensitive in my opinion given the situation- couldn’t they have paged a woman?) sent me into panicked tears making my stomach heave so much that he had to stop momentarily until I could regain my composure. My nurse and advocate held my hands crying themselves and said “That is ALL the proof needed to know that you were raped”- you cannot fake an instant involuntary reaction like that.

Those words still chill me now even writing this.

In a former post about other details of that night I divulged the information that this guy had been a fellow photographer that I was close friends with for 3 years even while I was still married. Never anything romantic between us in the slightest bit. I knew him so well to know that he always had carried a condom in his wallet. So of course my kit came back “inconclusive” or rather an infuriatingly unfair insult to injury. My now ex best friend who just robbed me had told me that her boyfriend who was also there that night began to later tell her details… the heroin they bought with my money, stealing and damaging my new car, things he had done/joined in doing to me, but even more sickening is that he and this other “man” (I use that word with complete condescension) apparently both put me naked in the bath tub still vomiting profusely. The amount all over my living room, all over my bathroom, and bathtub is obviously what saved my life since the drugs were not able to stay in my system permanently- just long enough to completely wipe my memory and make me violently ill.

The silver lining to that is of course that I did not die. However waking up that morning can only be described as awakening in a foreign country with no idea how you got there and no explanation to the million questions whirling around in your head a mile a minute. If you have ever watched the show “The Living Dead” the very first episode the main character wakes up to walk out and see a desolate destroyed incomprehensible world, and that is the exact feeling I felt.

There will be no “Victim’s rights” brochures handed to me by the police again.
There will be justice this time. This I vow to myself.

The Worst 4 letter word: RAPE

Why do we as a society keep brushing off the torturous atrocity of rape under the rug? I have noticed that this word falls into this sad don’t talk don’t tell hush-hush category. I find that appalling. Every time I go to write abuse and rape on my I-phone it auto-corrects it to say abide and tape. Is Apple too afraid to use unpleasant emotionally devastating words? Shame on them. It’s conceptual ideology such as this that guides this generation into hiding an epidemic that everyone is too apprehensive to acknowledge. I find that very sad. Not just being a victim of sexual abuse but as an empathetic soul touched easily by others misfortunes. The Bureau of Justice Statistics states:

Rape – Forced sexual intercourse including both psychological coercion as
well as physical force. Forced sexual intercourse means penetration by the
offender(s). Includes attempted rapes, male as well as female victims, and
both heterosexual and homosexual rape. Attempted rape includes verbal
threats of rape.

Sexual assault – A wide range of victimizations, separate from rape or
attempted rape. These crimes include attacks or attempted attacks generally
involving unwanted sexual contact between victim and offender. Sexual
assaults may or may not involve force and include such things as grabbing or
fondling. It also includes verbal. (retrieved via http://www.bjs.gov/index.cfm?ty=tp&tid=317)

I realized that I actually have been assaulted and raped before but didn’t process it besides the time in Italy I’ve yet to divulge. MULTIPLE times.
Even last year around this time last year I found myself in a situation where I was pinned down by my wrists and repeatedly penetrated with fingers begging him to stop as he lifted me up effortlessly while laughing dragging me into his bedroom where again my wrists were pinned over my head. “I’m going to rip your panties off…” he said with no emotion again seeming entertained and amused. I finally said besides the countless repeated “NO Stop Please” that I had been raped around this time last year so sex of any kind would be completely off the table and then immediately burst into tears. I sat there on his bed sobbing and shaking. He then realized what an A**hole he had been and let go then offered to hug me!? I said “NO, no thank you” and finally found the strength and courage to bolt out the door.

Unfortunately I have plenty more equally and worse stories than that. That is just the most recent…..
What is wrong with this world? Had that guy (who I had photographed for head-shots that day and thought we were cool enough to hang out afterwards) treated me respectably who knows he might have achieved his goal without assaulting and almost raping me. I can’t even look at the photographs I took of him because I am so repulsed- not just by his actions but also letting myself get into a situation that could have easily landed me back in the hospital getting yet another rape kit done. It is quite sobering.

Do actual men exist that don’t think that abusing women is as much of a normal pastime like baseball or football? I may never know as my guard of course is up now having made SO many mistakes in my little life. Will I ever learn the lesson? YES, yes I do believe I will finally. It has taken me an eternity having been first assaulted and almost raped when I was 18 years old during my dream vacation of backpacking Italy. Sad to think that experience pales in comparison to what I have been through now.
They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…. Well I have to wonder if who said that actually went through any trial tantamount to paralyzing ones such as these.

Let it be…

Sentimentality…. Oh what a double edged sword you are. On the one hand taking a stroll down memory lane promotes smiles, belly laughs, and a sense of joy from familiar memories. However the flip side of that coin is seeing pictures of yourself remembering how you were faking that smile and vividly can see the pain in your eyes. Or seeing photographs where a series of events play out that led to an eventual disastrous course- the look of joy and happiness in your eyes was real; yet it was soon to be replaced with sorrow.

Friends lost and gained…
Lovers lost and gained…
Jobs, aspirations, marriages, pregnancies, and *fill in the blank of something meaningful to you*
Lost and possibly never regained…

It is all there on your Facebook for a nice emotionally cutting experience.
Why do I/we do it? I know that I have always been the nostalgic scrap-booking kind of gal who enjoys remembering days and evenings that burst and overflowed with laughter and adventures. Even when I was younger I would keep every little momento- down to my first reciprocated loves guitar pic he had flung at me during a “jam session”. The bad times of getting over him passed by long ago, and we actually maintained a friendship that when we talk we end up being on the phone 3-4 hours. Then there’s all my Italy photographs I am able to look at now and only see the beauty (not all the near death stuff) instead of being too afraid scared that all the traumatic scars will reopen.
I am still actively working on getting the pain from my ex-husbands abuse gone (including cheating on me with the teenage girl he recently married) after realizing recently that I am not 100% over it all. These instances however of having my home and body robbed are something that I just currently have no hope of ever being capable of letting go. The pain intensifies and resurfaces frequently and just trying to shove it down and ignore is like putting a band-aid on a bullet-hole wound.

Let it go… those words roll off the tongue so easily from someone who either has no capacity to emphasize or has no one to relate the situation to personally. I would not/could not ever wish this pain upon anyone else- I just wish there was more compassion and less judgement especially when ignorance is the only foundation for no awareness.

I am not afraid to speak now….

Time heals all wounds… Well when?!

“It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”
-Rose Kennedy

I have to share her sentiment as unfortunately I cannot shake these godawful wounds from having been robbed recently, and now this coming Thursday is when it will be the 2 year mark from when I was robbed and raped. It’s not about the tangible items that were stolen- it’s the part of my soul that feels it can never recover. I was violated in every meaning of the word. By people I trusted. How can I not feel to blame for being so naive to let myself get blindsided? I asked my ex-husband to take our son next Thursday so I can try my best to do some nice things for myself and stay busy so I can desperately try to keep my mind off of the tragedy. His response was “What are you going to make an anniversary out of it?!” laughing at me to my face. I said to him it’s called PTSD have you ever heard of it, plus what if this had happened to someone you actually still loved would you be so callous and have such unemphatic attitude …? His reply was less than cordial.

The wounds from 2 years ago are re-opened even further having recently been victimized. I despise how when you receive your police report and case number you are referred to as a Victim on tangible paper in your face and given information on your Victim’s rights. It’s like an extra jab into your already broken back and heart.

Sometimes I fear that I will never be able to let go of all my traumatic experiences…. Being attacked, nearly killed, and abandoned in Italy, my ex-husband who was abusive constantly but actually hit me for the first time when I was pregnant, and of course the robberies ESPECIALLY the rape. I was never able to press charges on my rapist because I had no corroborating witness since I was rufied, and then he died months ago. That is not justice. I wanted him to pay for what he had stripped me of literally and figuratively speaking.
I have tried everything… counseling, yoga, antidepressants, anti-anxiety medicines, positive reading, But it just isn’t cutting it. Hypnotherapy or Electric shock therapy sounds enticing at this point. This affliction can be debilitating to say the least, and I feel so much that NO one understands. No one that I know of has been through trauma like I have, so I feel absolutely lost most days and find myself just looking for ways to mask it.

Anyone remotely familiar with PTSD knows that anytime someone experiences a “trigger” they can be brought back to that place of horror instantaneously. Oh how I wish I could erase all of this from my psyche like the quote from Alexander Pope:

“How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d”

Perchance to dream. In the meantime I have no other choice than to take care of my sweet autistic son and eagerly await next week when I possibly will have 3 days to myself instead of the normal 1 & 1/2 day per week of freedom. Tie a rope and hold on right….?

First Poll Ever- so pull the band-aid off if you deem necessary

This was a particularly brutal and raw post that I wrote barely editing a thing (https://ariellemegan.wordpress.com/2014/09/)
It was basically  PTSD spewing out my vividly reopened experience. Again written in the hopes I may inspire someone who has recently been abused to reach out and get help! From me even too!
Leave me your info or look me up on Facebook and I would be more than willing to offer any/all help that I can!

The catch 22 of Karma.

 

The fear is back…

This weekend I became another victim of crime and I am in disarray still. This flooded back the moment when I was robbed/raped 2 years ago next month and the wave of shock and sadness. Thankfully this time my son wasn’t looking up over me smiling since that night they put me in his bed naked after everything violating that was done to me.
I will never forget that chilling moment. Never. It is burned into my nightmares.
Today however I have to deal with the realization that all the material goods I had saved and made payments for years to own for myself were now all gone. And my “best friend” was the one who did this beyond evil stab in my back. Ironically she was involved in that above mentioned atrocious incident. Having PTSD makes this even worse than an average person who just had their world turned upside down. I say that with no judgement, however this brings back all those horrific experiences like they happened last week. I would do anything to erase those memories from my head and heart. Sometimes I see people that have no defined mental illness and I think that it is unfair that I live with the fear everyday in the back of my head of something triggering my past and then the chance that I could spiral out of control into a dark place again. I’m not sure if I gravitate towards people that will abuse/use me subconciously, or there are just too many deceitful people out there in this world looking for the next person to victimize.

12 years ago a different former “best friend” abandoned me in a foreign country, laughing when I told her I was sexually assaulted, and left me for dead way too many times to count where easily I could have been killed. The coping mechanism I learned then was to eat. Not normal eating but eating for a family of 4 uncontrollably. You might read this and say “Yeah right” but that is how my brain short circuited. It was an addiction created in order to mask the traumatic feelings I could not deal with. To this day I still grapple with it… I’ve thought about going to Over-eaters Anonymous but have been too scared and I’m not sure why…. Maybe I don’t want to be labeled publicly. I am not obese by any means but just have body/self esteem issues, so maybe am afraid of being judged like “what the hell does this small girl know about it?!”, or maybe I am just too afraid that by telling my stories it will make my issues even worse. Now again for those of you who may not understand this- it is not something you can just easily say “Oh I’m full so I’ll stop eating”. No you eat for an hour straight to the point where your stomach is distended. The worst part about it is that I never had these issues until all those tragic things in Italy. I was a “normal” 18 year old girl that loved her hobbies, friends, had a craving for living life to the fullest, and loved being outside active in any way shape or form! However afterwards I would find myself hiding in my cave, not wanting to leave my room, even hiding my food (much like a drug addict hides their drugs), and trying to fake it when in public until I was alone at home “free” to let this overpower me.

I once discussed this with someone who is in Narcotics Anonymous- and when I described the cycle of how it completely consumes your life he understood that my issues were one in the same. It made me realize that virtually anything can become an addiction- food, alcohol, drugs, sex, and even working out too. Anything you cannot control in moderation is a red flag that you need to potentially seek counseling so you can catch it before it falls so to speak.

I am a photographer so having my at least $6000 worth of equipment stolen (that took me 4 years to acquire) hurt immensely, But the absolute worst was my son’s Ipad since he LOVES that thing to death. Honestly I would have rather been physically assaulted than knowing that both of the things that my son and I love the most were taken away. I was never able to press charges against my rapist so this time with this crime I want justice! I will stand up and fight because anything to do with my son brings out the “mommy claws”! He cannot speak so I will advocate for him so hopefully he at least can get his prized possession back. I will not be silenced this time by the previous failed efforts of the judicial system- No I have to succeed at pressing charges this time because I am not going to allow myself to sink down into a deep dark hole ever again. I will choose to live our lives to the absolute fullest at whatever the cost!