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……..

Making love, having sex, being intimate. Whatever you call it, it can be a wonderful thing. Don't let rape rob you of the chance to have genuine happiness in your life. Choose to reclaim your sexuality, without abusing it yourself, and move on with your life. Be happy, take time to love yourself, stay safe.

“Rape is about having your choices taken away. Being intimate with your partner is something you can choose to do or choose not to do. You can ask your partner to stop and he/she would stop. You may find that some positions may now seem frightening to you and you may feel you want to use positions where you feel more in control over what is happening. If you are with someone who cares about you, loves you, respects you that is entirely different from a man who is abusing you, who has no care or respect for you.”

So I’ve made some progress. After the break down last week I had let go of a lot of things I was holding on to. Like the rapes, abuse and being molested. When Justin molested me it took away my childhood innocence. I had lost that special place that no one was supposed to touch and I knew that no one was supposed to touch me there. But ever since Justin started to molest me, my privates would always hurt and I couldn’t explain it. After I had my daughter( I have a vaginal birth) I tore and needed stitched for the second time(I had stitches from a rape years ago) and I remember laying in the hospital on my side crying because my anal area had hurt so bad. It wasn’t from the stitches per se but I kept feeling like someone had put something in my rectum and I couldn’t get it out. It didn’t hit me until earlier this week that I was having body memories of Justin putting his finger in my rectum when I was 5. I never really understood that everything was connected to each other as far as emotions and feelings.

“Separating rape/abuse and sex
It is important to learn to separate rape/abuse and sex. Healthy sex is nothing like the violation you experienced, and in working on your sexual healing and rediscovering your likes and dislikes; you can learn to differentiate the two. The actual acts may be the same, but that is where the similarities end.

This task can become complicated, as many non-survivors connect rape and sex, so their perceptions become skewed. Survivors may worry that others are judging them for wanting to become sexually active, or that the assault must not have been “that bad” if they are able to enjoy sex again. Some people may even openly question a survivor’s desire to engage in sex after rape or abuse. As difficult and wounding as these types of comments can be, it is important not to let them interfere with your own views and desires. You are entitled to healthy sex, and no one can tell you how to feel.”

When it came to sex, I always felt dirty and nasty. I felt like I wasn’t deserving of anything but pain because that’s the only thing I was used to. After being raped and abused for so long, it’s so hard to get used to being treated with respect. I had no emotional connection with the act of sex but pain and Frank along with Banky and the other men. It’s a hard concept to grasp, knowing that you have the right to your body and no one else does. It was hard for me to accept that I can say no to sex now. That I don’t have to do anything that I don’t want to.  The Vaginismus makes it that much more difficult, especially when you do want to be intimate because the anxiety and fear of sex made my body go on danger mode and my vagina would close up.

So this is where my journey begins. I had to take back what Justin, Frank and Banky took from me. I am so determined to thrive from this instead of bouncing between victim and survivor. Right now I’m in Sex Therapy and working around the issues that makes me so anxious about sex. It’s going really well so far. I understand how my body is connected to my past but also to my mind.

I went and bough Ben Wa Balls for kegel exercises and so far its helping me relaxes a lot more. Ummmm…………. Sexually I feel so free right now. I don’t feel like I’m being pressured to do anything I’m way more open about what I want and what I like and what I’m willing to try. It’s like I have control over my body and I don’t feel like it’s in danger anymore.

SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF ALL THIS I LOST NO I HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR, I'VE BEEN TURNING OVER ROCKS, PICKING UP TREES AND MOVING TRASH, THE POINT IS I'VE GOTTEN MY HANDS DIRTY JUST IN SEARCH OF WHAT I WANT, AND WHAT I NEED. THEN REALITY HIT ME THAT WHILE I WAS GETING MY HANDS DIRTY, AND MY FELLINS BEAT-DOWN, THE LIGHT WAS, IS, SHINNING IN MY BIG BLIND BROWN EYES.

Omg I’m craving Chinese food so bad right now but anyways I just need to vent right now. It’s nothing in particular; my real post will be made on Thursday or even Wednesday. But I had a break down Saturday night/ Sunday morning. It started when I was in the kitchen and then I came into my room and everything just hit me. I had laid down to try and get some sleep but couldn’t so I got back up and went outside to relax.

I was sitting in our porch chairs and was just looking at my dad’s car and got really mad, infect I was pissed off to the point I wanted to blow the house up. The anger had turned to pain and then it turned to tears and that’s when I couldn’t hold on anymore. I sat there and cried so loud I thought the whole neighborhood could hear me. I sat outside for 2 hours crying and talking and confessing and crying some more. I really don’t know what happened that day but it was different from any other type of break down I’ve ever had. It felt like something was being pulled out of my body when I was talking and crying. I had talked to God again for the first time in about 10 years. I talked to him and he talked back to me. I had talked to my dad and told him how sorry I was and that I’m trying to fix everything I messed up. He forgave me and told me it was ok to let him go and that everything was going to be ok. After I had talked to my dad God told me to have one last cry and that’s when I went into the house, layed down and put on my dad’s play list and cried. But it wasn’t a bad cry, it was a relieving cry. While I was crying I wasn’t feeling any pain because there was none left inside me. The pain from the rapes, molestations, and abusive men even the pain from my family turning their backs on me left. I had no feelings towards my mother but feeling sorry for her.

It was a really scary thing for me. I’m typing right now and I really doubt that I will pick up another book on Narcissists unless it’s about leaving them and healing. It’s like I don’t care why she did the things she did to me it’s in the past and I’ve hit my letting go point. I will always keep that information in my head to protect myself but I’m done wasting energy on her. She’s just not worth it anymore and neither are the people who hurt me and don’t care. I forgave Banky, Frank, Justin and the two people (who I don’t know their names because I was unconscious) who have hurt me. I believe that if I continue to call them my rapist or the boy who molested me then they are still holding power over me. And those days are long gone.

I wasn’t living as a survivor before; I was a victim trying to survive. I had let everything that happened to me take control of my life and my mind. And that was my fault, not anyone else’s. I had stayed being a victim because I was scared, I was scared to live because for so long I had to deal with the pain and that’s all I knew, and that’s all I was used to. But after a while that life eats you up to the point you’re breaking down and you’ve hit your rock bottom. Which isn’t always a bad thing. My rock bottom helped me to realize and understand that I have to be responsible for my own actions, that I can’t control other people’s actions or responses. That no matter what anyone else says to me, it’s up to me on how I react to their ignorance. And I’m seeing this now especially with my mother. Ever since the break down she’s been doing things around the house just to see if she could get a reaction to me. And she hasn’t yet, so now she’s being nice to me and the only thing I can feel for her is sorrow. I really do feel bad for her but that’s not my problem so I’ve just been smiling lately.

Ever since it happened I feel wonderful. I feel so free and it feels like a bourdon has been lifted off my chest and heart. Before I had the breakdown I wanted to kill myself because my dad was dying. I kept listening to songs that I knew would make me cry because I couldn’t figure out another way to get the hurt out. I was grieving but I was letting the grief control my life and that’s why I’m at my bottom now but it does feel good to have the chance to build myself back up the right way.

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

It is important to note that Vaginismus is not triggered deliberately or intentionally by women. Vaginismus has a variety of causes, often in response to a combination of physical or emotional factors. Despite the fact that Vaginismus is involuntary and can strike any woman, many women feel intense shame from being unable to have intercourse and keep their pain private, feeling uncomfortable sharing their secret with anyone.

Its 4am and I can’t sleep at all. I’ve had Vaginismus since I was 19 from multiple assaults. It’s always bothered me to the point my anxiety goes through the roof and I start having panic attacks from thoughts about the rapes. Things have gotten a little better but I feel like the stress from my life, therapy, dealing with my dad dying and trying to be a mom are messing with me emotionally. I started getting really emotional about this last week. The stress is getting so bad now that for the past two months I’ve been having my period a week earlier. Like I can feel my body getting weaker every day. I don’t have an appetite anymore; I’m restless when I try to get to sleep but most nights I only get 2 to 4 hours.

So when I usually have my period I use tampons and I think it might just be my nerves but they hurt when I put them in and I can feel them inside me and I start to freak out and remember how it felt when I was raped. Then I feel dirty I still feel bad. I get antsy and nervous and just feel like breaking down and crying.

Survivors of childhood sexual abuse, rape, or sexual assault often have to see their abusers after their attacks. Sexual violence is frequently committed by people we know—within our family, school, work, church, or any other community environment. However we know our abusers, we cannot always avoid interacting with them.

So I’m at home and watching TV with my daughter, my ex-husband is outside  and he comes back in and asks me who J is (I’m not going to post his whole name) and I ask him what does he look like. So he tells me

What he looks like and that he was looking for my mom. It was the boy who molested me and other kids in my neighborhood when I was 5. My whole body froze and I felt like I had to throw up. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a feeling like that before

Like I really do feel so sick to my stomach. In that short period of time when my husband said my name I was hoping that it was my best friend that I went to school with because they both have the same first name. Like I really don’t know how I’m feeling but my anxiety is up and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Everything that he did to me flashed back in my head and I froze. I felt like I had stopped breathing and the only thing I kept saying to my husband was I don’t want to talk about it, I’ll tell you later. He handled it but I guess fear just over took my body and I’m just still in shock. My anxiety is high, my hands are still shaking and then I thought about my daughter and how innocent she is and how I would never want her to go through what I’m dealing with right now.

I just had to get that out, I couldn’t hold on to it anymore….

 You are today where your thoughts have brought you; you will be tomorrow where your thoughts take you.

I’m just so exhausted right now. I’m working on day 2 with only 4 hours of sleep so I’m going to try and get to bed a little earlier so that I can get some rest for my mommy and daughter day tomorrow.

So I changed the look of my blogger. I had accepted that what was on my page I didn’t like and it didn’t really show how I was really feeling or who I really am. I love the pink that’s on my blog, and the coach and all the preppy girly things because that’s who I am, no matter how much I try to hide it. It’s me….

And I accept me for who I am….

 She makes you look crazy. If you try to confront her about something she’s done, she’ll tell you that you have “a very vivid imagination” (this is a phrase commonly used by abusers of all sorts to invalidate your experience of their abuse) that you don’t know what you’re talking about, or that she has no idea what you’re talking about. She will claim not to remember even very memorable events, flatly denying they ever happened, nor will she ever acknowledge any possibility that she might have forgotten.

So what really crack me up are parents. How when you’re older they all of a sudden forget the things they have said and or done to you but somehow they can remember some memory in that same time period. It makes me sick. I’m working on becoming a more open and honest woman and mother. If you ask me a question I refuse to lie to you about it.


Not all mothers are perfect. No mother will ever be perfect and that’s a fact. I feel like if you admit that you did something wrong then it’s so much easier for me to forgive you because you are acknowledging the fact that you made a mistake. My problem is when people make these sorry ass apologies saying if I hurt you then I’m sorry. It’s like they have no recognition of what they said or do. Which is understandable and reasonable but when you say that never happened when two seconds ago you told me you didn’t remember that just means you remembered, you don’t want to deal with it or talk about it and that’s ok too.

I’ve wasted enough enegry on trying to learn more about my mother. I’ve waste so much time and energy on why we have no connection except the fakeness that I have to do every day just to get you to talk to me. And it hurts, it feels like I’m selling my soul to the devil and ii want it back except it hasn’t been cashed in yet.

People don’t understand that every woman who has given birth is not a mother. That there are mothers out there who abuse their children and yet for some reason when their children come and tell someone they are accused and wronged because the most important person in a child’s life has always been the mother and everyone knows that mother can do no wrong.

when we go to protect ourselves we are crucified and it hurts and burns and tears a whole through our souls at the same time and the only thing you can do is try to take a deep breath and……….

BREATHE

I would rather be a slave physically than a mental slave for the rest of my life....

So as a black woman speaking right now I really just don’t understand how we have sat up and up with the shit we go through each day.

I’m watching the movie The Help (something I thought I would never ever watch because I was getting tired of watching movies like this) but it’s sending a point across.

I don’t understand how we talk shit about other people and their situations and what they are going through with their families when we are the one at home being raped and beaten every day. But yet for some reason we always have the courage to pick ourselves back up, wipe on the lighter shade of foundation, sweep on that blush and roll on that too colored light lipstick and walk around like the world is so fuckin peaceful. We carry this weight on our shoulders as if we have to be the strongest woman in the world at all times. We have this negative thought in our heads as if we don’t support our own race, no matter what the cause is we are failures. We feel as though as we aren’t as good as our mothers and our grandmothers and our great great grandmothers were.

I sat here an watched this movie sand the only thing I could think of was how man secrets were holding from each other. How many secretes we were keeping from our very own children in order to “protect them” because we didn’t want them to get hurt like we got hurt. But the only way to end that problem is to find a solution to the answer. We have been raped and beaten multiple times but yet we ignore our very one feelings and emotions. We use other objects to hide what we’re feeling.

We as black women are so strong that we break our own selves down. We don’t need anyone else to do it for us. We criticize ourselves to the point of a meltdown, a mental meltdown. But yet when we need help with that meltdown we don’t allow anyone else in to try to help us. We sit and soak and moan and groan all day long but when it’s right in front of our face we turn away with shame and disgust.

We are shameful because we feel as though we couldn’t help ourselves and therefore we can help our families. That disgusted feeling is because we couldn’t do anything to change it. We carry that guilt around with us, even when we are sleeping we have no control over it.

Our emotional connections to our own family are so weak that we can’t justify them. I will never understand how we put up with that bullshit back in in the 60s and 70s but not one of us can stand up for our rights???????? We can’t stand up and say I’ve been raped, I’ve been beaten, I’ve been molested……………

So I sit here, take another sip of my drink and try to relax as I’m watching the movie. I really don’t see what has changes in those past 60 years, we are still slaves. Were just slaves to our own community and to ourselves, and we can’t blame anyone but ourselves.

I just want to cry for us because we are killing ourselves. We don’t talk about anything, we deny the truth but when it happens to other people we are so quick to jump into their cases when we know that we are sitting right in front with them……

All malignant narcissists are inveterate snoops, busybodies, gossips and liars. They are constantly on an expedition to pry information out of you. The information is always used to manipulate you; embarrass you; frame-you; damage your reputation; control you; blackmail you and come between you and the people and things you love. Zip those lips up tight. Play your mental cards very close to your vest and protect your borders.

So I'm not looking forward to writing this list but I know that I have t

So here goes....I'm writing a list of everything wrong my mother has done to me. It's a way of letting my pain go and moving forward with my life and dealing with the emotions.

          ***Some of the things in the list may not be in the right order and most of them I don’t remember the age I was when she said these things but for the bigger issues I do remember the age.

·         At 5 years old, I was in kindergarten and I had flipped my hair over my shoulders with my hand. She flipped out and told me I wasn’t a white girl and if I ever flipped my hair again she was going to cut it all off. *The whole walk home she kept making a mockery of what I had did.

·         After I was molested I had started crying a lot in school because no one would play with me and the only person who wanted to play with me was the boy who molested me. The teacher would make everyone else play with me and the kids started calling me cry baby. When a note got sent home to my "mother" she told me stop being so sensitive and whenever I would cry she would call me a cry baby.

·         At my 5th grade graduation she took us "shopping" and picked out the ugliest dress she could find along with doing my hair how she wanted to do it.

·         In 5th grade I started my period so that summer I had cramps for the first time and cried the whole time and layed in bed with my dad. She got mad and started calling me cry baby again, when my dad said something to her she threw a tantrum and stormed off.

·         The summer of middle school I started listening to pop and boy bands. She hated it, she hated that I read Seventeen and Teen. She hated that I didn’t listen to rap music. She would ask me why I was listening to white people music. She would always comment on the magazines I was reading. My sister read vibe, I read Teen. She would tell me I needed to stop acting white. That black girls don’t shave their legs or listen to white music. When I asked what white music was she had no comment. It got so bad that she told my dad that the only magazine I was allowed to bring home was black magazines.

·         I started bringing home black hair books and she got pissed off at that because I was spending so much time with my hair and I needed to do something else.

·         6th grade she took us shopping for school again and only got us 2 outfits. {I found out later on that my dad had given her $400 to take us school shopping. Between me and my sister we only spend $80.}. She picked out 2 outfits for me and one was all tan. I was on my period and didn’t want to wear a skirt or the color tan. I told her that I didn’t want to mess up my clothes. She made me wear them anyway and I ended up getting blood on them and had to wear my gym shorts home. When I got home she cussed me out for messing up my clothes.

·         When my dad would give us allowance my mother would always come in the room and try to make us feel bad because she didn’t have any money or she didn’t have any cigarettes and she never gave us the money back. One time she asked me for money on my birthday, I shoved it in her face and said I didn’t want anything else from her for the rest of my life.

·         7th grade I had tried out for All State Chorus and my dad took me all the way up to Carol County Maryland on his only day off, my sister went too and she didn’t because she didn’t want to sit in the car for that long ride. Even though I begged her to go, she wouldn’t move.

·         Growing up we had to beg her to spend time with us. She was always running around buying drugs from her friends and spending time with them.

·         One time I needed tampons and I told my "mom" and she said she didn’t have any gas in her car to take me. So my dad took me to the store to get tampons. When we got back home she says she has to go get Uncle and leaves in her car. She just didn’t want to take me.

·         Throughout all of middle school she never bought us clothes except for the 2 outfits we get once a year. She would take hand me downs and would pick out all the clothes I could fit and put them in her closet and told me I could only wear them if I lost weight.

·         When trying on clothes for the next school year she would always comment on my weight. How I had gained weight that year and how I had thunder thighs and people would make fun of me. Every time I would go back for seconds she would remind me how I didn’t want to look like rolly polly.

·         I stopped eating red meat and pork the middle of middle school and she got mad because the only thing I would eat was chicken, vegetables and icecream.

·         I had a chorus concert and my dad and sister went with me but she stayed home again because she didn’t feel like going.

·         During the summer she would make us read from the encyclopedia and write reports. When we were done with the reports and our summer home work for classes she still wouldn’t let us go outside and play. Her excuse was you need to spend some time at home. But she still wouldn’t let us out the house. All she would do is sit and stare at the T.V. and eat.

·         When I had signed up for chorus my freshman year she made me change it because chorus wasn’t going to help me with anything in my life. I took a sewing class instead.....I had been sewing since elementary school to the point I was making clothes from a pattern.

·         9th grade I started to wear weaves and she always had a comment about that. She would say that I was a fake person because I would do my nails too and wear makeup{I had to sneak it in the house because she would never let me wear it, she rarely let me wear lip-gloss}

·         She would say I looked like a clown with all that crap on my face and threatened me to take it off.

·         I had met my ex the end of my sophomore year so when I wanted to introduce him to my "mother" the first thing she said is why isn’t he black? Why can’t you date a black man? She ignored how old he was {22} but focused on his race.

·         11th grad I was in all Honors and AP classes and whenever I got on the computer she would cuss me out just to do it. My home work was all done, she wouldn’t let me leave the house, my sister wasn’t home, and I just wanted to get on the computer and she had no logical reason to keep me off on a Friday Night. My dad stepped in and she threw another temper tantrum and stormed off like a child.

·         Whenever we went to church people would ask me what I was going to do after school, I’d tell them and she would interrupt me and start talking about how my sister is going to Spellman after she graduates.{she was a sophomore at the time}

·         During choir at church when we would sing, she would always compare me and my sister and how we sung. How I was always quiet and my voice was shaky and I didn’t sound strong and loud like my sister.

·         She let her son live in the house. He’s a child molester and found nothing wrong with that. We got into a fight one day because he was looking at child porn on the computer and one of our neighbors came over to use the computer and a pop up came up. I told her that he can’t use the computer, she got mad and we start arguing back and forth. I and my father told her that if they find that on the computer we will all be in trouble and get everything taken away. When I told her I'm locking the computer and he can’t use it anymore she grabbed me by the throat and pushed me against the wall and told me it’s not my computer that he can use it if he wants to.

·         Senior year of high school I had principals honors and a 4.0. That wasn’t enough for her but she couldn’t pinpoint anything else to focus on.

·         When I bought her tickets to see my play she said she didn’t want to go.{she’s off on weekends and only work 15 hours a week}

·         She told me that I couldn’t go to my senior prom because they didn’t have the money for a dress or a limo. After I told them don’t worry about the dress or a limo all I need is money for the ticket. She told me they didn’t have the money, they had to pay the taxes on the house. My senior prom I spent cutting grass while everyone else was getting into their limos.

·         Two years later my father told me that my mom told him that I didn’t want to go to my prom. When I told her I never said that she tried to lie on me again and my father caught her in a lie and cussed her out for taking my prom from me.

·         I had my senior awards at night and couldn’t go because she wouldn’t take me. She asked me if I could find a right to my awards ceremony because she doesn’t feel like going {my dad was at work}. So I didn’t go, I ended up hanging out with my ex.

·         She tried to not let me to go senior week but my dad stepped in and gave me the money to go.

·         When I had signed up for Nursing that fall she tried to down talk me into being a medical assistant because she said it would be easier.

·         That summer I was raped, she wasn’t concerned about anything. She didn’t ask how I was; the first thing that came out her mouth was what did you do now. Then she asked me if I needed her to come to the hospital with me. What mother asks her child if she wants her to come to the hospital after being raped? Her and my sister tried to make excuses saying she asked that because of my attitude I had at the time. So what does my attitude have to do with a mother being at the hospital with her daughter again?

·         After my dad retired, I was paying for everything in the house because he had no income coming in at the time. I worked between 40 and 50 hours a week when I was 18 years old. As soon as my foot would hit the door step she would start screaming, wash the dishes, put the food up, this was all before I had walked into the house. If the dishes weren’t done by the time she wanted them done, she would cuss me out.

·         When I moved back home for the last time it only got worse. I had  paid off her car (it’s my car now) and she would let my sister drive wherever she want and she didn’t have a curfew. I was 21 and she gave me an 8:00 curfew on when I should have her car back.

·         My sister was failing English her senior year and got 2 proms, they brought 2 set of senior pictures with her and let her retake her pictures. I didn’t get a prom and I had to take my senior pictures with the cut I got from my ex on my face.

·         While I was pregnant she would always smoke in the house and around me until I started choking one day.

·         When I went into labor with my daughter she didn’t move, she didn’t ask if I was ok. My husband’s mother beat us to the hospital so she was in the room with us. My "mother" showed up 3 hours later and left because she couldn’t be in the room so she didn’t feel like sitting around in the waiting room all night waiting for me to have the baby.

·         She didn’t come see my daughter after she was born but only one time.

·         About 6 months after I had my daughter she commented on when I was going to lose my stomach and poked at the little bit of baby fat I still had from having a baby.{My "mother" is bigger than me}

·         Now that my daughter is older, she calls her thighs thunder thighs and says she has nappy hair. I stop her right there and tell her that if she ever says those things about my daughter again, she won’t have to worry about having a grandchild.

·         When she buys any types of gifts for me, she always buys the exact opposite of what I like. Shell buy gold earring and give them to me, knowing that I only wear silver and when I tell her I don’t wear gold shell say oh I didn’t know, she’s been saying oh I didn’t know for 20 years now.  And then she’ll take them and be like well oh I’ll take them then.

·         Shell buy clothes for me for Christmas that is 2 sizes too small and be like oh I thought they would fit.

·         My dad would give her 600 to spend on Christmas gifts just for my husband and sister’s boyfriend and well write down their sizes and everything and shell come back with a $10 pair of bed room shoes in the wrong size and claim that what she was looking for was too expensive(one year it was 2 regular long sleeve shirts, something you can get from Wal-Mart)

·         She'll buy my daughter boy clothes and say they were cute so I picked them up. Or shell buy sizes too small and again claim well this is the only size they had. She bought her socks in a size 6, my daughter is 17 months old

·         Ill cook something for  myself and shell go in there and eat it and be like well I didn’t know it was yours while she sat there and watched me cook it

·         Whenever we have a problem or do our "group" talks, it’s always my mother and sister against me. Until my husband steps in and they back down.

·         No matter what wrong she does in the house, everyone keeps making excuses for her. My father wanted to keep peace at all costs meaning I should just suck it up and continue to deal with the emotional abuse because she’s my mother and she’s always been selfish and she won’t change.

·         I tried to talk to her about what was bothering me in the past and she said she didn’t want to talk about it. Told me to my face that my feelings didn’t matter and that I was lying about what she did to me.

 You don't have to wait for someone to treat you badly repeatedly. All it takes is once, and if they get away with it that once, if they know they can treat you like that, then it sets the pattern for the future.

I’m just so irritated annoyed and ready to go home. I feel so much more stressed out now than before I came here. Since the fight with my mother who out right told me that my feelings didn’t matter and that she didn’t care how I felt I decided to let her spend time with my daughter and to give her a chance until the end of the year. Which now I know that she’s never going to change and you know what, I’m ok with that.

I was talking to an older friend last week who knows some of the situation between me and my mom. She tried to tell me that my mother loved me and that parents say and do things to make their kids better. That my mother lacks emotional connection (I’m thinking in my head, what does that have to do with knowing what’s right and wrong) and she doesn’t know how to express herself. That she’s mean to me because she doesn’t know how to show her love for me so she plays it out the other way. She also tells me that I can’t live a whole life without my mother that the bible says to love our parents that we have to respect them no matter what they say or do because they are our parents. We then talk about her experiences and how her partner is. How she treats her bad but shes not going to leave, she just ignores it.

This is when you notice the generation gap. The difference of opinions and really understand how you are supposed to be treated. I don’t believe in the MYTH of every mother is a good mother deep down inside. I believe that people make choices to do the things they do. That everything is done for a reason. I don’t believe that you should have to put up with abuse just because it’s your parent. I don’t give a damn if it was the pope and he was emotionally abusing you, you have the right to protect yourself from that person.  By any means nesseciary with in the law of course.

That is what’s wrong with the older generation. Yes they have taught us morals and values and have showed us many priceless things that the new generation of is parents can’t but when it comes to children and their feelings, they have failed. I have realized that most children who were born in the late 70s to mid-90s have this problem. Out parents do not pay attention to our emotional needs. They pay attention to how we are doing in school, what’s going on with us, what we are up to but when it comes down to it, they don’t pay attention. And I do understand but when you ignore a child’s emotional needs it affects them all the way up to adult hood. It affects their personal life and their future family life also. It affects their children and grandchildren. Having a healthy emotional boundaries and feelings are a necessary part of life. I feel as though everyone has the right to one.

So when people make excuses for other parents you are only holding us back as a new generation.  They are only coving up a bleeding wound. It’s like they accept that their parents hurt them, they look at it as oh well they were trying to help me be a better person so I’ll accept it and leave it as that. They don’t look at it as it being wrong. What they are really saying is yes your mom said she didn’t care about you but she had a hard life. And our generation is like I understand that she had a hard life but what does her hard life have to do with how I’m feeling? The whole process of it all doesn’t make sense because if our generation can see what’s going on and change our behavior so that we don’t expose our kids to what we went through, why didn’t your generation do the same thing? If someone is calling you stupid all the time and you don’t like it so you ignore them but you walk past a couple when another person is being called stupid but you don’t say anything.  YOURE CONDONING THE BAD BEHAVIOR. How do they expect us to stop the cycle if they are only adding to the problem?

It is important to remember that rape and sexual assault is NOT the same as consensual sex/making love/being intimate with someone who cares about you. Rape is about having your choices taken away. Being intimate with your partner is something you can choose to do or choose not to do. You can ask your partner to stop and he/she would stop. You may find that some positions may now seem frightening to you and you may feel you want to use positions where you feel more in control over what is happening. If you are with someone who cares about you, loves you, respects you that is entirely different from a man who is abusing you, who has no care or respect for you. An intimate relationship with someone you care for and someone who cares for you is entirely different from forced sex. Abusive sex is someone hurting you, having power and control over you, consensual sex is someone you choose to be intimate with, someone you are caring for and someone caring for you.

I feel like a failure as a wife and woman.

This sex therapy is so much harder than I thought it was ever going to be. So yes I am healing and yes it kind of is working but it hurts. It hurts because it seems like no matter what I do I just can’t get it right.

I have so many problems sexually I don’t know where to begin. When I think I’ve fixed one problem, 100 more appear with no solution. After going through the sexual experiences I have encountered and my feelings towards them I was shocked.

I’ve always associated sex with being raped. I had no feelings or attitude towards sex because I never had it before I was raped. With nothing to compare it too besides my own feelings and what people tell me it’s supposed to feel like I was lost.

I didn’t know how to react, I knew that there were a lot of feelings and emotions that I was having that I liked but was also afraid of because I couldn’t control them. There were a lot of feelings I couldn’t stand because it reminded me of being raped. Finding out what my triggers are, going into details about the rape, the smells, sounds, what was in the room really opened up my eyes.

I learned that I still cannot be intimate whenever I want to. That I’m confused about the sexual feelings that I do have.

Unless I’m 100% sure that the feelings I do have are real and not just my past messing with me, I don’t act on them. I don’t act on the feelings because I know I wouldn’t be able to be intimate with anyone in a healthy way. Now I’m starting to understand how my feelings affect my sex life. The sex dreams I have all the time, it seems as though it’s the only thing on my mind and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing but I feel disgusting because of it. I feel disgusting for wanting sex, I feel embarrassed and I don’t know how to talk about it. Like I guess I never thought that being molested or raped would ever effect anyone this much or this deep.

I have a problem with controlling sex. I have a problem with my feelings towards sex and how I act out on them. I’m doing things that are only hurting the progression I’ve made.

I masturbate all the time if I had the chance. I do it so much because it just feels like all this pain is inside of my body and it just hurts when I can’t get it out. The pain feels like my vagina and pelvis is on fire from the pain and there’s nothing but pins and needles and my stomach starts to cramp up and my who body feels like it’s been hit by a mac truck. I masturbate to the point where it doesn’t feel good anymore.

It’s really painful but it lets the bad feelings about sex out. Afterwards I’m usually embarrassed and disgusted with myself but I don’t have anyone I can relate to. I just want to have a healthy sex life. I don’t want to feel bad about sex again….