Her bath washed away the semen but it didn’t wash away the memories of when he forced her to get on her knees and suck his – so I cried as if I was his daughter because of that rage and that possible AIDS between my legs, it could never add up to her pain, her distortion as he licked my body up and down. I hope that he would ejaculate enough that in his own semen he would drown. He carved his name in my uterus so that my first born child could on be as cursed as….Inaudible…. Thinking that this only happened in movies, she was the main character in the (inaudible) when she cried and he opened her credits. Too scared of the night, that is why she wished for ongoing sunlight.

I had met Frank before my junior year. We had been talking for that whole year and felt like it was the best thing that happened to me. I never had a lot of boyfriends but I did have a lot of friends. Hell, I didn’t have my first kiss until I was a freshman in High School. So I thought it was pretty cool that I had a man who actually liked me.

When I finally told my parents about him I was 17, they didn’t have a problem with his age but more so of his race. Their exact words were we don’t want you dating him because he’s not black. Because Hispanic men beat their women. I remember thinking and telling them that it was the dumbest thing I have ever heard in my life and walking away from them. I knew that race had no part to play when it comes to abuse. So I was determined to see him.

That’s when I started to sneak out the house just to see him. We would go to the movies, the mall out to dinner all the time. At the time he had lived in Silver Spring so some days wed just go back to his apartment and watch movies. I was a virgin and was saving myself for marriage. So the only thing we did was kiss.



It was a Saturday I’d lost my virginity. My best friend and I had plans on going to the mall. Which we did do. My parents found out I was seeing him and made me stop so she would help me see him. I had curly tracks in my hair. My toes matched my nails. I had on a short black mini skirt with slits on the side. A yellow off the shoulders top that I had to wear a strapless bra with. My yellow old navy flip flops matched my head band.

We went to bath and body works. I remember buying warm vanilla sugar body spray and lotion. Frank met us in front of sears and we went back to his house. I was supposed to be back at the mall by 5:00 so she could take me home.

So we got into his car, he always drove a stick. I hate stick shifts because of him; he would drive like a crazy person and hit the brakes at the last minute. I swear I thought I would have a heart attack when he would drive.

It was maybe an hour drive and I kept looking down at my legs and it felt like my stomach had hit the floor. Frank holds my hand the whole drive up there. We have hung out at his house so many times before and for some reason this day I felt really uneasy about it.

So we get to his house and were just watching TV. It was Saturday so they were playing scary movies and action movies. We talked a little bit but was more focused on the movie. Frank was lying behind me and he’s holding me and running his fingertips up and down my legs and he kissed me. I kiss him back he climbs on top of me and we started kissing harder and I tell him I don’t want to have sex and that I’m scared. I was a virgin and the furthest I had gone with anyone was kissing (especially with a man). At this time my heart is beating out of my chest and he says ok and kisses me again. I keep kissing him back and he starts putting his fingers inside me. It hurts really bad and I start to push him off of me and in that second he just gets really mean.

Frank rips my underwear off and has his penis up to my mouth and makes give him oral sex. I started gagging and he presses the knife harder to my face and tells me if I bite him he was going to cut me. I tried so hard not to throw up but I couldn’t do it anymore. I can feel the knife cutting my cheek and his finished. I didn’t move, my body went numb and I feel him flip me over and his penis is near my butt and I laid there. I couldn’t see anything all I felt was a sharp pain and the tearing I felt. I screamed into the pillow but he didn’t care. He’s pushing my head into the pillow and I felt him ejaculate inside me.

I open my eyes and stare at the wall thinking that it’s over. I just wanted to go home and go to sleep. I turn over and all I see is blood on the sheets and he’s standing up putting on a condom. I can still see the knife and didn’t move. Frank raped me he raped me for an hour and I saw that tattoo on his back I stared at it the whole time. He keeps telling me stop moving, he asks me if I like it, how it feels. He leaned in to kiss me and I didn’t kiss him back. He’s finished and pulls out and tells me the condom came off.

That’s when reality hits me and I start to freak out because I didn’t want to get pregnant. I went to the bathroom and pulled it out. I sat on the toilet and cried. My hair was matted down and tangled, my face had a cut on it, my makeup was smeared and I could smell him coming off my skin. The dried up blood and semen wouldn’t come off with a paper towel. I didn’t know how to feel. I didn’t know what to do, I was embarrassed and scared.

I came out the bathroom and he’s standing near the window smoking as if nothing happened. I tell him I’m ready to go home. Frank tried to hold my hand on the way home. I was shaking the whole time and he looks at me and asks me what’s wrong? Why was I shaking like that?

I had to call my best friend and convince her to pick me up at a restaurant because Frank couldn’t take me home. My parents had forbid Frank to coming to my house. She came and picked me up and asked what happened to me and I said nothing we just fooled around. She asked me if we had sex and I said no.

I got home at 7:30pm that night. I could barely walk up the steps. I went into my bed room, pealed my clothes off of me, threw everything in the trash and put on stripped pj's from old navy. I sat outside for an hour, went back in the house and lay in bed. I didn’t do anything that weekend. When I had to go back to school Monday, walking was painful and sitting down was worse.

I covered up my scar with foundation and I kept wearing foundation to cover it up until last month. That scar is still on my face. I had to take my senior pictures with that and my mom wouldn’t let me put the foundation on that day.

My period was late 3 weeks later. I was scared and freaked out and end up telling my mom that I was raped, but I told her that I didn’t know who did it and that I might be pregnant. They still blamed me for walking out the house in a skirt but at least I didn’t get pregnant the first time.

I cried while thinking this isn’t the way I envisioned my first time but when I saw the blood pore from my legs, I thought if it wasn’t me the tears another girl would shed. I looked him in his eyes and realized that he was old enough to be someone’s father, so I cried as if I was his daughter, as I felt my insides being slaughtered.

I had a flash back that I’ve never ever had before.
 I was just lying there in bed in my bra and panties and I was starting to fall off to sleep until my mind just flashed back. I was lying in bed with Frank in just a bra and underwear on his bed with him beside me. I was seeing that I was having the flash back so I started using my breathing techniques and it worked for a little bit until the flash back started up again and I saw Franks hand reach up to stroke my back. I came back to reality for a quick second and the only thing I could remember saying to myself self was oh God don’t let him touch me that way. He did and my mind froze.
I talked myself down and I let the flash back happen. I felt like I saw myself over the bed while it was happening but I wasn’t freaking out or panicking.

After he raped me the first time. I was scared that he would hurt me again so I stayed with him for another 2 years. I saw myself in his room. I had on black sweat pants, a white nautica shirt, a white bra and white reeboks. He told me to take my clothes off and I did. I laid down on the bed while he climbed on top and was kissing my neck and my breasts and tried to kiss me on my lips but I’d never kiss him back. He didn’t say much but asking me if I liked it. I stared off into space. I would look at the TV if it was on, hoping it would make the time go by faster.

It never did. When he was done, he climbed off of me and has a cigarette. I would just roll over onto my side and lay there. It was such a sickening feeling. I knew it was wrong but the fear was so much greater than anything else. God it seems like it was forever until he took me home. He just wanted me around just in case he wanted another go around.

I let him rape me. I laid there every single time and let this monster rape me for 2 years. And now 10 years later it’s all coming out? Suck a fair trade…….

I lay in my bed, with tears streaming down my face As haunting memories take back to that painful place Feeling his hands touch me Waking up to nothing, hoping these memories will just leave Always hiding from that something that’s never there Caring a burden that I can no longer bare Terrified to tell anyone About how my so called friend, did what he had done..........

  Jul. 30th, 2004 at 8:15 PM

Last night I didn’t get any sleep at all. Someone from his house called my house at 11:44 p.m. and hung up. It scared the hell out of me, I was in the guest bed room at the time which is across the hall from my room and I was scared to leave. It took me like five minutes just to go out and see what was happening. I checked outside the dining room window and saw that no one was there, it was a big relief but I still didn’t feel safe in my own house anymore. the little noises that the house use to make scares the hell out of me now, like little creaks and bumps in the floors makes me paranoid. it feels like someone is watching me and I just have this really bad feeling that something bad is going to happen if I don’t do something fast and quick.. But I have a feeling that it’s going to be one of his friends that hurts me not him. Last night I went to bed at 5:00 in the morning and I fell asleep around that time, I woke up again at 7 and checked the house to make sure no one was in it but my mom and sister; I went to bed and woke up at 9. Finally I went to bed again and my mom woke me up at 11. I haven’t been to sleep since but I’m just really tired, I have bags under my eyes, I tried to go to sleep after I finished typing my resume yesterday afternoon but I was too afraid of going to sleep, I’m scared that when I wake up I’m going to see his face again. It makes me sick just thinking about what happened. I called the detective to check up on my case but it turns out that it was transferred to some other guy and if I didn’t call today I would have never found out. I called again that day and they wouldn’t give me the number where I could reach the fucking detective at which really pissed me off. Finally I called for the last time and there was no one who could answer my question so I was transferred over to the detectives voice mail where I left a message. He is supposed to be back Monday afternoon around 7 p.m. now what I don’t understand is what’s going too happened between now and then? Fuck I don’t even know if they arrested him because it seems like no one is able to answer that question. Did they send a cop over to check the scene of the crime? I went into detail about where everything was and the position and what he did and where he put certain things after it happened. By Monday everything could have changed, he’s not that dumb to keep everything the same. Of course it’s going to make me look like I was lying and that it was just consensual sex. Which it wasn’t. The odds of me charging him with rape in the first place are against me. Damn he had to beat my ass for it to be rape and since I didn’t have any bruises, it’s not rape in their eyes, no wasn’t enough. What about me? Everything is on his side I don’t have anything now. It’s my words against his and by the time the god damn cops decide to get off their lazy asses and do something it will be too late. Honestly I don’t want to have to deal with this but in some sense it’s making me stronger. Finally because of this, I know exactly what I want to do in life. I’m going to be a registered nurse and work with rape victims. No one should have to go through this shit ever but it’s going to happen and I know that. Every two minutes another woman in the United States is raped. That’s not going to stop. I’m going to help other people like me. But first I have to help myself and I haven’t gotten to that point yet. I feel alone for some reason. Sometimes it feels like I’m going to break down and cry but that’s not going to do anything for me. my head hurts a lot and it seems like I’ve been getting frustrated with a lot of people, even my own dad and most of the times I’m not like that around him. I feel bad because I’m taking my anger out on my family and I don’t mean to do that.



 I don’t know I still don’t believe that this has happened. The places he touched me, it feels like its burning. My chest hurts and my back is hurting me worse. I’m really sore in my private area and swollen, it just seems like this is never going to end. Going out in public is that hardest thing ever. It seems like every man is looking at me like they want something. It’s like they are undressing me with their eyes and its making me sick. I went to burger king with my dad yesterday and there were three men sitting together and they were starting at me the whole time and when I walked by I felt so sick, I felt like I was going to throw up. I don’t even want another man to look at me again; it just makes me so uncomfortable.  Today I called the police back and I found out what little I could about my case. Nothing has been done. I even talked to the supervisor of the station and he said to his knowledge they haven’t sent out a cop to Banky's house and they haven’t arrested him. By now all the evidence is gone and basically there’s no hope for me now. It was already my word against his and now there’s no evidence on his part. Wow I didn’t report the last rape because of this reason. I didn’t think the police would do anything about it so when I finally open my mouth to say something look at what happens. Well I’m not going to let it happen to anyone else, this stops here and now.

I fell in the dark, with no one to hear my cries, reaching out my hand to YOU but you weren’t there. It is in the darkness where my soul played tricks on me Allowing me to think I was truly alone, voices told me how I was the lowest form of life My womanhood had been questioned beyond belief, and my self-esteem was shot to hell.

August 8, 2004

I think about how I could avoid it every day. I know how people say it’s not the victims fault but I don’t think that’s true. Take my situation for instance. I I went over to his house in an area I wasn’t familiar with. I went to his bed room with him. I got drunk and I let him kiss and touch me where ever he wanted. Hell I even let him perform oral sex on me. I didn’t want to have sex with him. That never changed. I didn’t fight back hard enough to make him stop. It’s hard when your body feels limp and lifeless.

The clues were there the whole time but I didn’t pay attention to them. The drink, the bed room, him turning the music up louder. Now that I think about it, nothing in my head went off. I didn’t have a bad feeling or anything like that. Usually I can tell when I man wants something. It’s just something that goes off in my mind that tells me that. When I was sitting on the bed, he didn’t touch me at all. We were just looking at pictures and talking about our friends. It wasn’t anything more than that. On the way there he was talking about his daughter and about how he was going to take her to chuck-e-cheese that Thursday on his birthday. I told him I was raped before; over the phone I told him this.  He just wanted to be my friend that’s it. Nothing went off in my head, no warning sign nothing.

This was my fault. I had several changes to get out of the situation but didn’t. All the sings were there from the time I got to his house but I ignored them. I didn’t think and now I’m paying for it.

I don’t want to talk about what happened to some therapist. I don’t even want to think about it, what makes you think I want to open my mouth and say something? I’ve been through enough already with the case that’s going absolutely nowhere. I did the right thing, I told someone what happened but it seems like I’m the one being punished for the crime.

I know the detective though I was lying about the whole thing. The first thing that came out his mouth was some girls lie about rape, I’m not saying you did but some do because they had sex with someone else and have a boyfriend and feel bad about sleeping with the man. I knew after he said that, it was over. I didn't have a boyfriend, i wasn't seeing anyone. My bestfriend took me to the hospital. Being called selfish for doing something I didn’t want to do is a lot worse. It has been two weeks and the DA hasn’t even heard about my cause.

Questions run through my mind about why nothing has happened. Why weren’t the cops sent over to collect evidence? And why after 5 days of contacting the detective, the DA hasn’t heard about my case? This sounds really stupid but maybe it’s because they think it’s a waste of time. Why should they spend their time on a case that’s pointless? The girl is lying is what’s going through their mind and we don’t have the time or the patience when we could be working on a real case.

If I would have known this was going to happen, I would not have said anything. What’s the point if nothing’s going to get done?

I swear I want to forget about this whole thing and just forget about the case. He’s already won and he knows that. But I won’t. It’s not about me; it’s about every other woman he’s going to come in contact with in the future if I don’t stop him now. I can barely deal with the guilt of how I let it happen to me. What if he rapes another woman? How I can I live with that knowing that I could have stopped it?

Personally, I want him and my ex-boyfriend dead. Men like that shouldn’t be able to live after doing such a thing like that. But that’s not my decision to make. Whatever happens, he will be punished in the long run. God will take care of him when his judgment day comes even if the police won’t deal with it now. See Karma will come back and payback’s a bitch.

Now all I have to do is just hold on, easily said than done. Paranoia seeps into my mind. The fear of seeing him in my room is something I deal with every day. I’ve only been out the house 3 times for a fear of seeing him. Just the thought about what happened makes me nauseated. Constant headaches and loneliness are just the beginning.

My sex drive is gone. I don’t want it, and I don’t watch it on TV. a year’s hard work was taken away in 15 minutes because I didn’t pay attention to what was happening.

Keeping the lights on is the only way to know he’s not thee. Sleeping seems impossible now. I’m scared because I see him every time I close my eyes. Sometimes I stay up all night because it’s so hard to go to sleep so I usually wait until 5:00 because by then its light outside and nothing is going to hurt me. I go to sleep but wake up only minutes later sweating gasping for air only to realize that it’s just me, alone in my bed and he’s not there.

It’s just mind thing but I don’t know if I should even mention these things. I don’t want to scare anyone off because of this. I’m not crazy it’s just hard right now. I don’t want to be judged by anyone, I just want to make it go away.

Let us Pray for those that were Damage with the Devastating Anger of Mother Nature

July 16, 2004

Eighteen years old, but she’s a wise child for her age. Some might even say mature before her time. It’s been two years since he came into her life. One since her life as she knew it was stolen away from her. She now knows that she needs help and she’s getting it.

This is the only want to move on. She didn’t know she had to start from the beginning. Suddenly her ‘’mature” mind disappears and the frightened little child in her appears. Not knowing what to do or how to handle the situation, she hides.

Little does she know if she keeps this up, she’ll be hiding forever? Hiding in the past, she’s unable to look forward to her bright future. The frightened child hides in the corner of her empty heart afraid to move. She never saw the future or the sun tomorrow will never come for this lost angel.


July 30, 2004

Everybody expects me to be strong. I can only hold on for so long before I start to fall apart. All of this could have been prevented. I would have to say most of this is my fault, but there’s no need crying about it now. It’s done and over with. Once again I have to start over because of one stupid mistake.

I’m scared to walk around my own house, I feel like he’s here watching me. Just plotting his next move. I jump at every little noise, my heart starts racing and then I see him. Well at least I think I see him. I’m afraid to sleep in my bed with the lights off. I keep seeing him on top of me. It doesn’t stop, he doesn’t stop.

I feel like I just want to break down and cry but I’ve been holding everything in for fear of weakness. The worst thing is the public. I’ve been out the house twice now. Every time a terrifying experience. I see men looking at me. The thought of what’s going through their minds is sickening. Their eyes wounding over my body violates me.

I just want to get away from the pain. I feel alone with no one who understands how I feel. This journal is my closest friend right now. It won’t tell me I have to get over it and forget about what happened and it won’t ask me why I’m crying.

I can’t stand the skin I’m in. I can’t stand the feeling of my body anymore. I just feel so used. Every day I feel nauseated by the thought of that man on top of me. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. I’ve thought about leaving but the gun is in my parent’s room and I don’t know where the bullets are. With one on to understand and talk to, I look for other ways to ease the pain.

Taking a knife from the kitchen, I hope its sharp enough to cut through the dead skin. The harder I press into the skin, the duller the blade becomes, I can’t take it anymore so I just place heat upon my wrist. Sitting there smelling my burning flesh against the heat. Knowing that I’ll get no satisfaction or relief from the pain. I stop and look at the damage I caused.

I hate the way I feel when I touch myself. Even taking a shower is hard. It’s not my hands I feel, it’s him. I hate sex and I don’t like watching it on TV. it makes me feel sick. I’m scared.

This has just begun and I feel betrayed by my mother and the system. I was lying on that cold table legs up in the air. He is outside because he can’t be in there with me. She never bothered to call to see where I was of what was happening. I just wanted her there, I was so scared and I wanted her there to comfort me. But she wasn’t. I never said anything the first time because I was scared no one was going to believe me. I told someone. I sat in the police station for two hours while the detective called me selfish for not performing oral sex. In the hospital for three hours while being looking at. With you outside and my own mother not there to hold my hands. I sit here knowing that my screams and cries of no and stop and repeated attempts to make him stop don’t mean shit.

They haven’t done shit. What the hell are they waiting for? No cop was sent out to his apartment and while he’s out there walking free, I am a prisoner in my own mind waiting for justice to be served.

Radiation can’t fix my cancer I get blamed for my cancer I’m ashamed of my caner And I wish my cancer would Hurry up and kill my mind Since my body had already Been destroyed

Stolen

I was in school with him from
Day one until graduation
He was there even when his presence
Wasn’t known.

Because they hurt me, he touched
Me, they forced me and it felt
Like my spirit was stolen from
My body.

So many times I wished there was
Someone out there like me.

Because it kills me to pour
My soul out on a piece of paper.
It silences me to try to tell a
Story that most people will ignored
But that one person will speak up
And not voice anything

©Golden Rays

Virgin Mary

I cried tears of blood last night
And no one cared why

I screamed at the top of my
Lungs last night and no one
Heard my cries.

I sat alone thinking why was i
So stupid. I opened up and was
Gutted like a fish.

I’m still holding on, still fighting
For her, for me, for you.

And no one still knows why….

©Golden Rays

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention guidelines tell us it is a public health epidemic, with one in four girls and one in six boys being victimized before age 18. Pennsylvania alone has more than 3.1million victims. Nationally, it is more than 49 million. A child today has a greater chance of being sexually abused than of being in an automobile accident or breaking a bone.

Honestly sometimes I really don’t know why I even bother doing this crap anymore. Some days I wonder why the hell am I wasting my time writing and posting and spreading the word on something that people just close their eyes to. Some days I feel like just being normal. Waking up one day without having to check my schedule to make sure I don’t miss my therapy secessions. I cry about why I’m wasting energy writing in this blog.

My feelings are hurt. I’m feeling really emotional right now. I just understand how and why so many people ignore what’s going on. Especially those who I thought were close to me, who I thought were a part of my support system. I think that the more I open up my mouth and talk about it, the more people I push away and I think that’s what hurts. Like everyone expects me to be quiet about it and not say anything without regards to my feelings. But then again if I can push you away that easily by speaking the truth, then you weren’t a real friend or a support system to begin with.

I don’t want to deal with this anymore. The only advantage to speaking out and saying something is that maybe someone else will listen to you. Maybe you can help another victim get through the process or even educate someone who didn’t know anything about the topic. I do wish a lot of times that I hadn’t said anything, that I only told on person and that my family and friends never knew. I feel like I’ve lost a lot of people (especially my family) by speaking out. I don’t know if the pros really do outweigh the cons especially when you have nothing to show for it.

I’m drained emotionally; it takes a toll on me. I just keep fighting and I keep getting knocked back down and I can feel my inner demons trying to come back and find me. This is how being raped made me feel. I felt like I was to blame. I was the one who had a drink, I agreed to go out with him and according to society, and I played a part in my own rape. According to them, I should not have had a drink with him, I should not have went out with him, I should not have been lying in bed with my boyfriend because everyone knows that’s how you get raped, by cuddling in the bed with your boyfriend. Damn now if that’s how you cause your own rape to happen then that would mean that every married woman has been raped because before she was married she did lay in bed with her husband cuddling………

How much logical sense does this make? I’m really starting to grasp the concept of there’s no one in this world to protect us but us. There’s no written law to officially protect any victim of rape from being raped. Hell a man can still rape his wife here and not go to jail because she’s his property.

For the past 20 years I’ve had different men had control over my body. I’m just now getting back the feeling that no one can control my body but me. That no one has the rights to my body but me and now some pathetic excuse for a man wants to tell me that if I get raped and get pregnant I have to carry my rapist baby? That if a 13 year old girl gets pregnant by her father, uncle, brother she has to have their child. That there’s no way a woman can get pregnant from a legitimate rape because a woman’s body has a way of shutting the whole thing down. A man is telling me that if I’m not forced down and don’t have any bruises it’s not rape. That if I don’t say no, it’s not rape. That if a 34 year old man has sex with a 17 year old girl that it’s not rape because the age of consent is 16 and 17 is legal and statutory rape applies to 15 and younger.

I’m pissed off and angry. This is really happening people; I don’t want anyone telling me what I can and cannot do with my own body. It’s none of their damn business and they need to butt out.

Talking about it doesn’t hurt, it’s the rejection, the victim blaming, the talks, the politics, the ignorant comments, stares and snares that you face every day that hurt. I’d rather quit and do something a lot less stressful but then I think about how I was feeling when I was looking for someone to turn to. I had searched the web up and down looking for another black woman I could talk to about being raped and about being molested and for years I couldn’t find one or a website of one who is openly talking about it.

I think about my daughter. I’ve been raped enough times so that she shouldn’t have to go through what I’m going through. Everything is out in the open and up front. Everyone’s feelings are on the table and no one is looking down to see them. It’s like that big pink elephant in the room that everyone’s ignoring. I do understand it’s a sensitive and still a taboo subject to talk about BUT ITS REAL. It happens all the time, every day, minute and second of the hour.

Closing your eyes and turning your head does not stop that woman from being raped

And it isn't just about you and the way your body responded either. It may also have been one of the repertoires of dirty tricks rapists use to get their victims to feel responsible. Diana Russell writes that "Some rapists think they're lovers" and tells us:(These rapists) think that if a woman is stimulated in 'just the right way' she will enjoy it. The conquest may seem more important if the rapist believes he has turned the woman on physically, particularly if it is against her will. Getting the victim to respond physically may also alleviate the rapist's guilt feelings.

I feel so disgusting right now. I don’t really know what’s going on with me or even how it happened but I feel like I’m having a minor setback. Through everything I’ve been through the past 2 weeks I’ve made such good progress with deal with panic attacks and flash backs and the anxiety.

When Banky raped me we were kissing and I let him perform oral sex on me which was so disgusting. He had finished smoking before he did it and to this day I’m not too sure what he was smoking but when he performed oral on me it burned really bad. It was painful even when I had to have the rape kit performed. So to this day oral sex is a really sensitive subject for me but  I am comfortable with it as long as I’m calm and relaxed.

About an hour later my anxiety goes up and I feel like I’m losing control over my emotions. I wanted to crawl in a hole and just cry my eyes out. The first thing I felt was Justin’s fingers inside me, after I dealt with that feeling the next thing I felt was Banky performing oral sex and then Frank holding me down and raping me. I dealt with the flashbacks and didn’t freak out but it felt like it just kept going around in a circle and wouldn’t stop.

Like my body felt like it was being violated over and over again and I can feel them touching and grabbing and I smelt every sent and my body just feels so worn out. I couldn’t even lay down in my own bed by my husband and feel comfortable. I felt like my body was betraying me and I couldn’t control it. My vagina and anal area is still throbbing and I just feel so disgusting and dirty and tainted. I know that I not but that’s how I’m feeling. I just feel so uncomfortable in my own skin, I just want to peel it off my body and find a new skin, something that’s not so dirty.

A hot bath would feel wonderful but I just feel so nauseous and so out of control. I just want to be able to relax. I feel disgusting because while I was being raped I was wet, I didn’t have any control over it and I know that it’s nothing that I did but it just feels so bad……..

There is a terrible pain in knowing that you never had the chance to know sex without it being coloured by your experience of rape. Intimacy can always feel as though it is tainted by this first terrible experience and for some it can be difficult to separate sex from violence.

I just get so mad at myself when it comes to therapy and my reactions because I just feel like that I should have finished therapy years ago. I feel as though right now I’m my life I’m wasting so much time trying to fix myself when I should be enjoying my family and life. It’s almost a heartbreaking feeling, it’s a lost feeling that I feel about it. However mad I get at myself for not doing this earlier, I can’t say that the end result would have been the same. If I would have gotten the help I’m getting now when I was 18 I might not have my daughter or husband in my life, and for that I wouldn’t change anything in the world.

“An added problem may arise when a survivor is the one to initiate sex. A caring partner may worry about triggering you, and leave it to you to initiate sex when you are ready. This can make the survivor uncomfortable if they constantly feel as though they are asking for sex. If this is the case, try talking to your partner. It is likely that they are struggling with feelings of their own, or are trying to let you take the lead.”

As I’m writing this, I keep trying to hold back the tears because I shouldn’t be going through this right now. It’s not normal at all, the one thing you’re supposed to have total control over is your breathing, your brain and who you choose to have sexual contact with. I’m really just really pissed off that I even had to create this blog in the first place. What’s done is done but it’s still hurting me and I’m still working on it so that I can be happy and healthy.




“Survivors may feel guilt because they are unsure of their true motives or reasons for wanting sex, and so they struggle with knowing whether or not they are truly engaging in healthy sex. It is common for survivors of sexual violence to use sex to distract themselves, punish themselves, or even as a way to re-live their assault. These types of reactions are normal, and you are not alone. If you are unsure of whether you are using unhealthy ways to cope, consider asking yourself the following questions:




How do I feel before sex?

How do I feel after sex?

Why am I choosing to have sex?

Do I enjoy myself when I am having sex?

Would I change anything about my sexual encounters?”




After I was raped when I was 16, I never wanted sex, at all. I was one of those women who would be happy never having any form or intercourse in their lives. It’s a really sad thought and reality, knowing that you had been so hurt by someone else’s choice that you wanted nothing to do with your own body. When I did have sex with my ex-husband(we were married at the time) I never felt anything emotional but guilt. Don’t get me wrong, the sex was ok but I had no emotional connection to the act its self. I knew something was wrong when I started feeling bad and dirty after we had sex. (That had nothing to do with him, it was me and my past and my feelings)




“I couldn’t have sex unless I was drunk or high. I would feel too out of control and triggered. The alcohol and drugs numbed that all out and gave me a kind of confidence. I had a lot of sex that I wouldn’t really want to have today though.—Lourdes Healing Sex, A Mind-Body Approach to Healing Sexual Trauma by Staci Haines”




And I had to be a little bit tipsy or have one drink in me before we did anything. It’s like all the feelings and emotions from the rape and abuse just took over me and the only way I could be with him was when I did have a drink.

“Those who lose their virginity to rape often find that one of the hardest aspects of the aftermath is finding a way to reclaim their sexuality. How can you reclaim something if you never knew what it was like to begin with? Having such a negative first experience can mean that you do not get the opportunity to know your body as your own. It can also really distort your view of sex in general.”




Because I was raped as a virgin I feel like total crap. I feel like an idiot and I actually wish that I would have had sex before I was raped. I would have had it something to compare it to. No sex after you’ve been raped will never be the same as before but they know how it feels to have consensual sex, I don’t. I do know but because of all the crap I’ve been through and the end results it only hurts even worse. I don’t have my own sexuality yet even though I’m working on finding it. Ugh one time my thoughts on sex were so bad that I didn’t like my body. I still don’t like my vagina but I’m starting to love the rest of me now.

The Vaginismus doesn’t help either. Because of the trauma from the rapes and abuse it’s what I have now. It’s when penetration is very painful and intercourse is almost impossible or too much to bear. Your PC muscles will clinch and you have no control over it.







I try to hold back my tears every night from everything I’m dealing with. I don’t have time for myself so I don’t really have any place to put the emotions I’m feeling unless it’s the quick 30 minutes between naps, showers or cooking. I feel like I’m at rock bottom but about to crash head on with no one to catch me. I feel so damaged from my family, my past and who I am now that I’ve been working on all of them at the same time, hoping ateast one will be fixed.

I cut myself last week. The next morning I did it, I didn’t notice but I was in the bath tub crying my eyes out over all the shit I’ve done, the mistakes what I haven’t done and I got so depressed and lonely that I had to cut. The last time I cut was in 2003 after I was raped (when I started drinking to numb the pain). I looked down at my arm (this was before I realized I had cut on purpose) and was trying to figure out when I got this odd cut from (it was vertical on the vain on my arm but further down). Usually when I get cuts (natural ones) it’s always on the side or at an angle or weird shape. That day I went into the bathroom to take a shower and I noticed that the blade was taken off my razor and I knew what what hppend then. I don’t even remember all of it. That’s how I knew something is wrong right now cause I haven’t had thoughts of dying since after my daughter was born(because of PPD and me not eating is what my doctor said) . But all I could remember was how much I wanted to die because of how much pain I’m in and how no one was paying attention and didn’t care.




I’m just beyond exhausted; I’ve been getting 2 hours of sleep every night for the past 3 weeks. My dad’s birthday is Monday and next Monday we take him off of life support. I’m just so emotionally drained that my body is starting to react to it. But this week I will be meditation, yoga and blogging at least 3 times a week………….




I just had to get this off my chest