Lena (iamnotanobject) wrote in _survivors_,

My Story

From when I first started developing, around 9, to when I was 12 and finally had the courage to confront him instead of lying limp, like I was sleeping or dead, I was sexually abused.
This is my story.

Different ways different times. Same guy. 6 years older than me. He never "raped" me as in penis/vagina penetration against my will, but I was touched against my will.
I HATED my breasts and always wished I was flat like all the other girls in school. Maybe then he wouldn't touch me. We "played doctor" once and I was incredibly uncomfortable and confused when he pulled off my panties and looked around down there. Every time I hear the game doctor I wince and shudder inside and think of that. I don't like that game and think it's a sick excuse for probably many child abusers. Other than that we'd be on the trampoline or bed. I hated my development, i hated my breasts, i hated bras, and I would wear baggy shirts in attempt to hide them, but no bra. Maybe they would go away if I didn't use what people with breasts used. But with baggy shirts and no bras and laying down, you can tell when someones looking up the sleeve. You can tell even when you're eyes are closed. He'd touch them, grope them, fondle them, lift up my shirt, look at them. I wonder what he was thinking. Did he really think I was asleep during all of this? I wished I was. Wished so hard. I started blocking it out right then and there. I know it happened much more than the times I specifically remember. I don't remember because I blocked it out of my mind. I always thought I was dirty. I never could tell anyone. Tell your parents or an adult? That wasn't talking about this situation. That's what I thought anyway. This is disgusting. This would just cause a whole lot MORE bad than good. So I always kept it to myself.
Finally one day years later I was wearing a bra that clipped like a weird puzzle piece in the front. I was on the bed, "sleeping", and he lifted up my shirt. He saw that it wasn't a normal bra, and started trying to unhook the front latch. He couldn't do it. He had never said anything while he did this any of the other times. This time he was frustrated, and said "how do you open this thing??!" Instead of pretending nothing was happenning, instead of lying there limp, instead of letting this continue, I somehow let myself open my eyes and say something back. I finally had a chance to. He had talked, I could talk back. I opened my eyes and said "what are you doing! You DON'T! Leave me alone!" And I got up and left. He never touched me like that again. He was my older brother.

At 14 I had started to date and have experiences of my own, not against my will. Making out was fun, and I'd even let myself be felt up. I knew that's what they all wanted. That's what made me "hot". Whatever, it wasn't a big deal. Not like it hadn't happened before. And I let myself enjoy it. But I never would let them touch my pants. No way, that's mine, and I will not be touched down there.
One day, the day after my boyfriend at the time tried to unzip my pants a couple times but failed, I went to my friend's house so my mom could talk to his mom. I had a crush on this guy for as long as I'd known him, but I had a boyfriend and was not looking for anything other than to hang out with my friend for a little bit. He was dogsitting a neighbor's dog at their house so I went there. It was just us, but that's no big deal. But he wanted more than just a friendly chat. He tried to manipulate me and backed me up all around the house. He finally got to making out with me (against my will) but what he really wanted was down there. It was really scary. I kept thinking he was going to rape me. I had Nirvana's "Rape Me" stuck in my head. If he was my friend he wouldn't rape me. If he was my friend he wouldn't be doing this to me. But I stuck to my guns and he never touched my vagina. He eventually got me on the counter of the bathroom, but I got off, then he got me on a bed. I didn't want to be doing any of this, I had a boyfriend, i liked him, and i didn't want to cheat on him. I tried to roll over, but he rolled me back. I felt so vulnerable, like I had no control. I had to make a deal with him to get him to quit. He made out with me on top of me with just the cloth of our underwear between us. Then I was free. That was such a weird experience. I think he was psychotic or something. I still sort of know him today- I mean we go to school together but i dont see or talk to him regularly. We've never talked about that day. I told only my best friend and maybe some other friends later.

I'm 15 and with a different guy. We've broken up twice and had breaks but eventually we get back together. He convinced me he loved me. By this time I resented my body so much and thought that was the only reason any guy would ever like me. Was that true in this situation? Yes. I didn't think it was. I guess I knew it had a part of it. I asked him if I got in a wreck and couldn't move, or gained 100 pounds, if he would still love me. He said he wouldn't be attracted to me. I didn't think much of it, but really I thought in true love it didn't matter what physical change a person went through, the other would still be just as attracted to them because they were in love. He went out with me and led me on just for one purpose and one purpose only. I thought he loved me. I thought I loved him. We hardly got to see eachother but when we did we were all over eachother. Never more than making out and groping, but one day he came over when I was home alone. We were fooling around and everything was fine, I just didnt want my panties off. I told him that. I was nervous, and really not completely comfortable with him. He took them off anyway, and made out with me on top of me, him naked too, with his huge hard on and everything. I was scared, I didn't like this, and I knew he could ejacualte at any time. I was very uncompfortable with that. I could get pregnant. I felt I had control over nothing else, and he would just do whatever he wanted till he decided to stop. I was not going to get pregnant. I told him to put a condom on. I didn't think he was going to rape me. I did not give him permission to have sex with me. To drive that thing into me even though it hurt and i didn't want it. I did not want to lose my virginity then, like that. I never consented to it. But I guess he took me telling him to put a condom on as permission. It wasn't. He date raped me. I was scared, I was limp, I could do nothing. I left my body and said this wasn't happenning. I watched me lay there, his little toy, with no control, no power, no soul. Just a thing for him to do what he wished to. He finally finished. We got dressed and he left. I never saw him again. As my boyfriend at least. He never called after that. I called him all the time but he was never there, according to whoever answered the phone. A month or two went by like that. I finally told his little brother to tell him we were over, as if that wasn't obvious. I needed closure. That scarred me. Not the relationship, the rape. I realized that that was his whole purpose, his whole plan from day one. He saw me, his prey, and did what he had to to get me where he wanted me. And it worked.
I told my best friends. Later I told more friends, good friends. Someone who was supposedly one of my best friends told me and others that I was lying. I was LYING about being RAPED. That hurt so bad. It hurt so much. How the hell would she know anything! She wasn't there! This had happened to me, I was trying to get through it, I was trying to heal. It was years after it had happened but it was just scabbed over. I never talked about it much but it would enter my mind sometimes. I cried so much over it. Then when she said it didn't really happen like that it hurt and I cried even more. I told the guy I was dating and he knew the guy who raped me, and said he wouldn't do that. Yeah, because only guys who are scary looking or evil did that, right? Normal guys can do it. Your friends, your boyfriend. It had happend to me. And these people wouldn't even respect that. They didn't respect me. I do not lie, I am an honest person. I had told my best friend soon after it had happened and she knew it was true. I couldn't believe these other people thought I was lying. That's digusting, that's wrong, WHY IN THE HELL WOULD I LIE ABOUT THIS!!!??? My best friend said she would tell them herself. The girl who started all of this talked to me about it. She told me I should not tell anybody, that it was no one's business, that nobody should or wanted to know. She told me I shouldn't think about it, and that i should "forget it". FORGET IT. Isn't that hillarious?? I thought, "YOU get raped then YOU FORGET IT!" The thing is you just can't forget about it, and you should NOT keep silent about it. How could anyone ever heal if they didn't talk about what happened to them? I had kept it pint up in me, causing me depression and self-hate and fits of rage and crying and sadness, just thinking about it thinking about it thinking about it. I thought about what people said. How could someone get raped? "i would have punched him or screamed" or something like that. But they didn't really know. they hadn't been in the situation. They didn't know what it was like. They would have been frozen and scared and done the same as I had. It wasn't my fault. I thought it had been since I didn't stop it somehow. But no, it wasn't.
I found out later that this is what many victims of rape do. Freeze up and lose control over their bodies. It's not uncommon, it's very common.
It had made me feel like I wasn't a human being, that all I was was this body, this meat. I wished so much that I was unnattractive so that I wouldn't have to deal with crap like this. Then anyone that would like me would have to like me for the real me, not just because they wanted to drill my insides.
I hated that guy- CW- soooo much. More than anything. I thought I would kill him if I ever saw him. I could imagine it. I'd tackle him and stradle on top of him and just beat the crap out of him till he bled, till he died. Then I would ask him how it feels.
I did see him, a year after it happened. It was the second day of my first job ever. He came in to eat. I was being trained, so I didn't have to do anything. i just stared at him. I got dizzy. My eyes blurred. Tears filled them. I got clammy and sweaty. I was scared. My shift let off. I sat down waiting for my ride, my boyfriend. This boyfriend knew all about it, and hated him too, and wanted to kill him too, for hurting me the way he did. He came in and saw me. I was shaking now. I told him in a wobbly cracked voice that CW was there. I started hyperventalating. He took my hand and we left as fast as we could. It was horrible.
Then over a year later I had told this guy I hated him but not why, and he just couldn't understand why i hated him so much. he gave him my screen name on aim, and he imed me. I didn't know who he was at first, so i thought he was just a nice friendly guy. Then I found out and freaked out. He said he didn't remember me. I was furious. I told him that i wasn't a person remember, just a piece of meat. He pretended he didnt know what i was talking about. he did a lot of drugs so it's possible he could have forgotten, i GUESS. But he denied ever even knowing me. Even though there was plenty people who knew us when we were together and knew everything. It hurt. I forgot what else I said to him, I think I cursed at him and blocked him.
My friend found out why I hated him, but that girl told him it was a lie. He believed her over me, even though we were dating. He said it was a horrible thing and IF it did happen he was sorry. I screamed "IF?! IF!" and cursed at him, and slammed the phone down. He finally decided later that he believed me. Or at least that's what he said.
I saw CW again once or twice. I always froze up and was scared. I wished I could tackle him and kill him like I always imaginged and wanted to do. But I couldn't. I just got a horrible feeling and turned away from him. Everytime anyone says his name, talking about him like a normal cool guy, like their friend, I get sick, I want to scream, and whoever it is that talks about him i don't like pretty much just because they talked about him in a good way.
Well I got over all of that and left those "friends" who said i lied behind. Some of them are still acquantances, but I never ever tell them anything personal.
I know how it is. Rapists are monsters. I found out that rape starts first in everyday sexism. Making women anything less than an equal human being. It escelates and eventually becomes rape or something of the like.
I hope never to be in a situation like that again, and that if so I won't freeze up, that I will do something, and I think I have the strength and power and knowledge now that I could. But I don't know that.
I always thought that my child abuse had something to do with the rape. That maybe if I hadn't been abused my boundaries would have been stronger or that I could stand up for myself or not let this happen. I've taken self-defense and have pepperspray, but you don't use those against friends and boyfriends. I'm single now, but not necessarily available. I have high standards that I know not to lower.
I also gained weight, and am not as widely attractive as I was before. No one has messed with me for a long time, and I'm glad for it.
I'm 18 now, it's been 3 years since the date rape. I can think about it and talk about it without going into a rage or tears. I'm not totally healed and probably won't ever be, but I am healing. I'm still here, I still exist. I am a survivor.
Tags: abuse: child, abuse: control, abuse: csa, abuse: incest, abuse: sibling, assault by friend, boundaries, coercion, dissociation, inappropriate touching, introductions, invalidation, molestation, rape, rape: acquaintance/date, victim-blaming

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