my most recent rape-- the whole story...

ok, i actually wrote this entry the night after i was assaulted on AS.org...i figured that i might as well put it here, cuz this is my life...T_T

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i was recently assaulted. no, i was raped...lastnight (Nov. 5, 2005). one of my friends, my closest friends, assaulted me. i had had a bad night due to my sister's thoughtlessness and he had invited me over for a movie and maybe some ice cream to cheer me up. by the time he asked me, it was too late to drive the 45 mins. to his town and he had to get up early for work, so i told him, "raincheck it." i called him up the next day at about 6 pm and asked if the invitation was still open. he said it was and that he was fixin' to go on a walk in a nearby park. i told him i'd be there in about 30 mins, and he said he'd wait for me. so, i finally arrived at his house and we started walking to the park. it was nice out, cool, but not cold and the stars were bright. we goofed off and joked with eachother and it was nice being able to be out with a friend. after a little while, we walked back to his house for dinner. his mom made good food and was a wonderful woman. i love being around her. we ate and then went back into his room to watch a movie (by now i was too full for ice cream). the lights were out and since his room is kinda small we laid on the end of the bed to watch the movie. all started out well, we goofed off during the movie, pushed eachother off the bed, tickled eachother, ya know, like close friends do. then my back started hurting and he offered to massage it. that was fine with me. i was comfortable around him and didn't see any need to be otherwise. he was an ex-fiance, but even though we broke up over a year and a half ago, we were close friends. he knew i was married and we talked about my marriage and husband pretty often. i felt no need to feel guarded around him. i guess i was wrong. we ended up re-situating ourselves to better masssage my shoulders. he sat leaning against the headboard and i sat in front of him. well, all was fine for a little while, but then his hands started to wander. i thought at first that it was just accidental, but it kept going on, so i decided to move back down to the foot of the bed away from him. he followed me and appeherently didn't get my message. he began touching me again, undoing my clothing. i froze. i couldn't do or say anything. it was like i was back with my father and he was hurting me again. i kept saying "no" over and over in my mind, but it never managed to come out of my mouth. i remember screaming my husband's name in my head too. i couldn't fight him off because i couldn't get my body to work. when he was finally done, i just rolled over and stared at the floor. he asked if i was ok, and i told him i was fine, just thinking about my sister. it was the only thing i could think of to say. i got dressed and told him i had to go to the bathroom. i did and cleaned myself up. i had a hard time realizing that this was indeed rape and not me cheating on my husband. i did get aroused and i did feel pleasure, but it was not consentual. i didn't want it. i don't even know if he knows he did anything wrong. he probably thinks it was consentual.

i don't know what to do. i'm afraid that since i'm married it was cheating. i'm so sad and confused. what will my husband say when he finds out? he knows about my childhood, but how will he react to this? will he throw me out? divorce me? i'm scared.

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since i wrote this, i told my hubby who was boiling mad at this guy, not at me...he's supporting me wonderfully...i filed a police report, but that's as far as it's gonna end up going because according to the police it's a he said-she said case and because of prior relationship with the perpetrator, it really wouldn't be fully seen as rape...which i think is crap! rape is rape, no matter the "prior relationship"! i think the law is bullshit out here!

i even told my mother because since i'm her daughter i figured she had the right to know, and guess what? she blames me! stupid bitch told me that since i'm married i shouldn't be going over to boys' houses because once you get married, the rules change! stupid bitch! i can't believe she had the nerve to say that! as if i'm not blaming myself enough! besides, how dare she?! i had no reason to be suspicious at all! he was a trusted close friend and my husband knew where i was! she has no right to speak to me like that, especially since all the times i took HER advice just led to more and more crap! i listen to no one but ME and doing that has allowed me to make the best decisions i have ever made! i fuckin' hate her! maybe it's a good thing that she's not in my life anymore! i sent her an email telling her i won't be bothering her again...it seems like the right thing to do considerin' none of them want to leave that wonderful wasteland called DENIAL! fuck them, fuck all of them! i don't owe any of them NOTHIN'!

memories recovered

i recovered a happy memory from when i was a little girl...i don't know how old, probably kindergarten age...i was walking around the property with my grammoose picking blackberries and there was a deer named juicy who lived next door. she was the pet of the caretakers that managed the middle school we lived next to in spring branch...i remember that she had 2 babies that year...but i loved juicy so much! i also had another recovered memory that wasn't so good...when i was 12 i got pregnant by daddy and had a miscarriage...i think the most recent rape triggered it...but i remember bleeding like stink, having the worst cramps of my life, and passing huge "clots"...i do know that no one knows about it because i wasn't far enough along to show anything...i didn't track my periods back then, but it occured around the time of a period so no one was the wiser...i am glad that memory was suppressed until now, but what would have happened if i had not miscarried? i went to midland christian a week or so ago to talk to the teachers that do the chapel...i want to speak to the entire school and educate both staff and student body better on handling when abuse or rape come up...when i told, no one was really prepared, so this is a brilliant idea...i mentioned the miscarriage because it is part of my history, my story, that i will share with everyone...one of the teachers made the comment that "thank god is was miscarried!" but really, was that a good thing? if i hadn't miscarried, the abuse would have been discovered, but would that have changed anything? i don't know...i am both sad that my baby died, but shamefully relieved at the same time...i know i wasn't ready, just like i'm not ready now, but i might never be ready...so, where's the good?

the anniversary

tomorrow is the anniversary of telling my family...and the anniversary of being disbelieved...and the anniversary of losing them all...i am the hated black sheep among them and it still hurts...i hate the holidays, especially thanksgiving...i had a flashback today about my father fondling me after dinner while everyone was taking naps...he stayed up to watch the yearly football game, and i just wasn't sleepy yet...he made me sit next to him on the couch and he touched me...that's why i hate thanksgiving and that's why i hate football games...today, my husband's family had their turkey-day and i got emotional and had to come home because i started crying and missing my brothers and sister...one of the cousins asked if james and i were brother and sister cuz we acted alike and had the same lastname...we said, "no we're married! see the wedding rings?!?!" that was partly what set it off, and just the fact that happy family members were gathered on thanksgiving...out of all holidays i hate this one the most.

tears of apathy-- a poem

Tears of Apathy




Silence surrounds the everlasting hearth of darkness attacking the reality of life that holds me to this world.

Sharp pain slices through the thickness surrounding my heart, piercing it to my very backbone, grinding into flesh and soul.

Life is felt trickling from the veins held within the walls of this fragile shell of materiality.

It bores into my head, the memories flash within.

Only one such as me has ever experienced something so terrible, yet so common.

The unity of survivors and victims eludes my sight and clenched fist of blood.

Not even the vampyrs of the night could wrench it from my grasp.

The suffering held within the mind of childhood returns to thought and pours into my being.

Tears of pain and apathy for innocence lost run into tiny trails of icy crystals.

Life corrupted is thrown into my heart.

A future spent with painful dealings brings my heart to breaking on the edge of reason.

Thoughts and feelings overwhelm the tiny psyche inside my head; the tiny personality that lives within is tortured into many people.

Demons call to me from the deepest darkest corners of the mind.

They crone from behind cobwebs and twinkle severely behind the ever-eluding traces of sanity.

Life is turned into a dim of waking death.

If only I could be free…

the absence of childhood-- a speech i gave for speech class last year

The Absence of Childhood


My name is Chelsea. I’m 18 years old and am a Capricorn. I am creative and enjoy art and writing. I hope to one day do something with my talents in the realm of creativity, however, because of events in my life, college is not something that is within the near-future. I have a story to tell, and it is not typical.

Many people, if assigned to speak about an important event in their lives, would talk about special birthdays, championship games, and personal embarrassments or accomplishments. I, however, have a story that is much different. My story is my testimony, and not in the Christian sense. My testimony is one of pain and loneliness.

Many people go through hardships in their lives, but not many will admit to going through the experiences that I will talk about. This subject is taboo and is uncomfortable to talk about in any type of company. It is condemned biblically, and socially, and has been so since the beginning of time. Yet, once it touches your life, there is no running or hiding from it.

Abuse is a word that is more common than one might think. When one hears the word ‘abuse’, usually physical hitting or verbal badinage come to mind. However, these are not the only things that fall under the category of abuse. Verbal abuse and physical abuse are some of the most common, however, emotional and sexual abuse fall under this category as well. Sexual abuse is the most taboo of the abuses, especially if it happens within a family which, believe it or not, is the most common kind of sexual abuse.

Incestuous relationships are condemned both socially and biblically. They scar the individuals involved and rip apart relationships on all spheres of life. When one thinks of sexual abuse, one thinks immediately of sexual intercourse, or the act of sex itself. However, many things fall within this category. Basically anything that one would do with a lover, be that wife, husband, boyfriend, or girlfriend, is considered abuse if done to an individual to which it is unwelcome. This ranges from kissing, to inappropriate touch, and finally, to rape.

Sexual abuse is more common than one might expect. Statistics show that one in four women will be raped sometime in her lifetime, and one in eight males will be abused sexually during their lifespan. In fact, many people that are abused come from self-respecting families that are normal and have status. I am one of those people.

I was sexually abused by my father since I was a young child. I do not have any memory of my childhood, and my first happy memory that I recall is when I was 13. It was the day I was given my beloved cat, Spotbert, who died last year. Throughout my ordeal, my cat was the only one that I could truly depend on. He was the only one that let me drop my whispers of pain like tears into his fur, and he never ran away from my problems.

Most victims and survivors alike will tell you that they had no idea that the abuse going on was wrong and unnatural. In fact, growing up in a home such as this, one only knows this way of life, and this causes one to believe that this goes on in every household, that all endure this as children. I, for one, felt uncomfortable with the situations. I had even read about abuse in the Bible, but it never hit me to comprehend that this was what was screwing up my life so badly. I never knew that it was the abuse that sent me into unsuccessfully trying to commit suicide four times. I never knew that this was what made me feel so different from everyone else. I never knew that this was the cause for my low self-esteem.

It wasn’t until last year, at Thanksgiving, that I realized what had been the cause of the torture I faced within my mind. I had always felt as though I was slowly going mad, and that I was isolated from all, that I was the only one that felt these things, because no one else showed them. I thought I was alone because no one else that I knew had to deal with the constant fear that consumed my life, like an army of termites slowly gnawing the support of Odysseus’ bed. This fear consumed me everywhere. I was not safe in any place, not my house, not on holidays, not even in my own bedroom. Paranoia is a constant companion.

A survivor once said that “A victim of abuse will never feel completely safe, not even locked up in Fort Hood.” This is completely true. An abuse survivor will always be looking over their shoulder and will always be afraid to trust anyone completely. The taste of paranoia becomes comforting. It burns like a paper cut drenched in limejuice, bittersweet to the taste. It roars in one’s mind like a hurricane, drowning out anything else except for the fear. One who learns life this way generally trusts no one except himself.

When one is abused, usually one type is not the only ploy used. Along with physical and sexual abuse, emotional and verbal abuse are very commonly companions. I experienced all of these types of abuse in my life. I grew up being told I was selfish and that no one liked to be around me. This instilled in me the tendency to be a loner and I never had any real friends. Even to this day, lifelong friends are a thing that I can only dream of. Every best friend I have ever had eventually moved on to another person to elevate to that status. I still wonder sometimes if it is my fault for this, but deep down I know that it is not.

I was beaten last year for telling the rest of my family what was going on, and since then, rifts grow more and more between me and my remaining family. Friends that were confided in eventually got tired of my expression of my problems and honestly I cannot blame them for not wanting to be associated with my pain. Why not move on to a happier life where there is no such thing as abuse? There’s no shame in that, and I do not hold it against them, though it hurt most painfully when it happened. I can only hope for them happiness beyond measure.

I began this speech not to gain a pity party, but to convey something that affected my life most significantly. This, though terrible, has made me stronger and has turned me into the person I am today. I know that this is the reason that I can handle anything. This is the reason that I can help others, that I can comprehend and think through problems presented to me in confidence or in publicity. Although I wish deep in my being that this had not happened to me, I am grateful at the same time. Experiences allow us to grow up. I grew up quickly, and with maturity came the beginning of life. I am alive and I am free.

kelly just like daddy-- a rant poem

kelly


my sister betrayed me. i told her, i showed her what he had done, what daddy had done. she looked at me with such shock and disgust. disbelief showed so plainly in her face. she told me, "confront him. confront him in front of everyone. then, only then will i believe you." i did. i swallowed my tears. i made my face burn from red to white and stood in front of them. they gathered in that room with the big sliding door and the tv. he sat on the couch and so did mom. my sister stood behind me. "she has something to say" it was a dare. if i ran away and said never mind, no one would ever believe me. it was so hard. my mouth opened and despite the fear and overwhelming shame, the words came out. i don't remember exactly what i said. i just know that my mother's face went white and my dad's face got red. i remember watching him stammer. he stammered an explanation. he minimized what he had done. my sister lied to me. she didn't believe me. to this day, she doesn't believe me. i want to be so angry, but what's the point? the bastard shot himself when i tried to get justice, and now she blames me for her pain. she says it's my fault for her feeling this way. she says she doesn't want anything to do with me. she doesn't want me to talk to any of "her" family. so where does her family end and mine begin? does that just mean her husband and her children, or does that include my mother, brothers, cousins, aunts and uncles? i have always been the "punching bag". why me? is it because i am the youngest girl? even my little brother violates my emotions and makes me feel like i'm worthless. i cannot talk about what happened to me because they don't want to hear it. it hurts them too much. telling didn't really change anything. i was still ignored and abandoned. i was still treated like i was invisible. they never contact me and any contact i make is not welcomed. so, where does my pain end? aren't families supposed to be loving? aren't they supposed to support someone that has been hurt? why does mine not support me? when i went to group, my brother made fun of me and made scathing remarks that tore open my vulnerable wounds even more. my mother did nothing. she asked how it went, but i didn't want to share it with her. she did nothing to help me, so why should i tell her anything? the only reason i moved out was to get back the two things that gave me security. my cell phone for 911. my car to make a getaway. they took that from me, but if i left, they'd give it back. i wanted to be taken care of. i wanted to be happy. i didn't want to be punished any longer. i didn't want to be called "crazy" anymore. i didn't want to feel crazy anymore. why did you have to call me crazy, mom? why did you have to tell me i was nuts? kelly, why did you tell me i was a liar? why did you tell me that you would never believe me? why did you call me a loser for dropping out of school? i told you what had happened and what was going on. why did you tell me that you didn't believe me? why is it acceptable for you to bring home your live-in boyfriends to visit your siblings, but i can't bring my husband to meet you and your family? who cares if you didn't know we were married? you are a hypocrite. you hurt me almost as much as he did. you are a bitch. a stupid sadistic bitch. you think that since you have children that erases all your sins and makes you perfect? bullshit, it doesn't. i hate you, i fucking hate you. you are a slut and a whore. you've slept with half the state and yet you write mean letters to me when i'm going to give you a wonderful gift. you were gonna be the first to know that i was married. it was a gift. you know, you were there when he was assaulting me. you were even in the same room. he used to do it in front of all of you. you never even noticed my downward spiral. you never even heard my cries for help, or even saw my healing cuts or rope burns from hurting myself. they were blatant and right in front of you, but you just kicked me in the gut. if i had balls, you would've kicked me there. you did manage to kick me in the balls finally. how is that possible? it shouldn't be, but you did. how can you blame something that i had no control over on me? how can you tell me about your rapes and i believe you, but then not believe me when i tell you about mine? do you think you're the only one who gets that spotlight? i cannot even function. at least you got to graduate highschool and college. you can get a good job if you wanted and you have a good husband and children, even though i know you love another. you are a bitch not to be there for me. do you know how hard it is to hide something like this? do you know how hard it is to deal with this all alone? do you know what it is like to be shunned away? why me? why did it happen to me? if it was you telling me in tears on thanksgiving that you were victimized by daddy, i'd have believed you. you had the power to help me, but you chose to tear me apart instead. you are a bitch and a slut and a whore and a huge fat heifer. i fucking hate you for hurting me. you don't even give a shit about me. you are so thoughtless and rude and cruel. me calling...what about the terrible things you've done to me? the mean letters, the cruel emails... they just reinforce the idea that i'm not worth anything. if you cared, you'd have thought about it from my point of view. if i wanted to be mean, i would send this poem to you. but i'm much nicer and thoughtful than that because i know how you would feel. you've succeeded in making me feel cheap yet again. do you even know what a panic attack is? i think you don't. you don't know what it feels like to wakeup and feel like you can't breathe. you don't know what it's like to be terriffied of even moving. you don't know what it's like to not be able to go to school because you cannot at least speak coherant sentences, much less drive to school. no one was there for me. no one. i've been all alone. i know what it is to be alone. you are a bitch to judge. you are not and have never been in my situation. you did not have your childhood stolen. you do not know what it is like to not remember your past. i hate you. you are cruel. just like daddy.