Yeah, I was raped. Do I want to talk about it? No, but maybe at this point, it's time.
I've been raped before. Several times. It isn't that. The others didn't affect me the way this has.
I trusted him. I called him "brother." His mother treats me like her own child. I'm invited to family dinners and holidays. This hurts.
The reason I stopped sleeping with/dating white men is because of the first rape. I couldn't stand to see another man that looked like him on top of me. I couldn't bear to see the matching flesh because my mind automatically went back to THAT. The pressure, the fight to push, the fight to save myself from THAT. He took my innocence. He took everything that made me a woman in under two minutes. I bled...My God...I bled. It hurt and I cried.
My mom asked. The woman that gave me birth asked why my brand new jeans, my school clothes, were ruined. She wanted to know where all the blood came from. I cried and poured my heart out to this person...this person that was supposed to protect me from evil...And she ignored me. She thought I was lying.
So I stopped. I kept myself away from men that looked like him. I didn't tell anyone else and I thought I had saved myself from harm. I thought that by avoiding THEM, I was in the clear....
I wasn't. It happened again. My fault, surely. It had to be my fault. I wasn't careful enough. I didn't state my boundaries clearly enough. I didn't tell him I wasn't interested. I lead him on...Surely, it was my fault.
I can't justify Chris. I cannot. justify. this. I trusted him. I didn't lead him on. I didn't try to hit on him. He hit on me and I told him I wasn't interested.
I don't know what to do. I told Clay. I told Jamie. I told MARCUS, for fuckssake. I don't feel better. I don't feel better at all.
But tonight, when I told Jason why I wasn't comfortable sleeping with him. When I explained to him why I wasn't turned on, he blamed me. He said it was a cop out.
FUCK. I know some people may still read this, but how else am I to get this out of my head? How else do I work out all of these fucked up things? Marcus is not my therapist and if tonight proves anything, it proves that I need to seek actual help. I can only see so much. I can only handle so much. I think I have reached my breaking point.
2 comments:
Reading this I kind of miss the "good old days" when if something like this happened to a friend or a sister, a couple guys could just go and beat the living shit out of the asshole involved. Next time he'd think twice about his bad.
The legal system is a not much of a viable option though it may be work a looking at through a "domestic violence" lens.
Which leaves the last option. Get help. I recognize the way you try to take care of things yourself. I respect it. It reminds me of me. But people like us tend to put off too long asking for help. The time is now. Go. Get some professional counseling. Do it Now.
Hugs,
'mouse
Oh doll. I'm so sorry. People are so amazingly awful, it boggles my mind. I totally know how it is to have someone you trust take advantage, to have someone who should understand pile insult upon injury, and to have those who should care the most ignore you. I really do.
Mouse is right about seeking help because that will go a long way to deal with the worst parts of what you describe-to know that people WILL believe you, to know that you are not alone.
And in terms of the good old days mouse, I know some guys here (who work for the government even) who would still beat the everloving crap out of someone for doing this. (I'm fairly sure they have more than once already.)
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