I don’t remember being whole. I don’t remember being innocent.
I only know what he taught me.
He taught me how to ride a bike and how to tie my shoes.
But that was only the beginning of his teachings.
He taught me about the shame that sits squarely on my shoulders and is embedded in my pores…that same shame that forces me to punish myself.
He taught me that when you stop fighting it’s no longer rape and that I wanted it.
He taught me fear. The fear that has never left me. I am still scared to close my eyes at night…fear I will see him, wake up with him standing over me, on top of me.
I fear people who reach out and touch me unexpectedly, sit too close to me, try to hug me.
He taught me the feelings of despair and hollowed out bones. The feeling of being weighed down.
He taught me how it felt to have your thighs forced apart and how it felt to be beaten when you cry.
He taught me that crying is bad: a sign of weakness and you must never cry in front of anyone.
He taught me that hands can bruise and burn and beat and hurt.
He taught me what it felt like to have your body torn in half.
He taught me that my feelings don’t matter and that sex is not love.
He taught me that my body is not mine and I have no rights to it. I hate my body.
I am afraid of what he has made me – the memories still lacerate my body, every wound still whispers pain. Every scream is still trapped inside of me, eating away at my body, crawling up my throat. I want to disappear into the water droplets that pour from my eyes and evaporate into nothingness.
These are the things he taught me. These nightmares are my memories…the memories I’d love to set on fire and watch burn. I cannot erase them. I can only try to push them into the dark corners in my mind and forcing myself to keep moving. My mind will not forget – my brain will not cease to bring the past into the forefront of my mind.
How do I unlearn all of that? Can I be taught that I am good enough? That people can really love me for me?
I don’t know the answers.
I know that people see me as beautiful and talented, intelligent and outgoing. But if they knew the real me, they would no longer find me beautiful.
2:00 PM on March 10th, 2010
you have voiced…what I have felt…believed….lived… everything on your list…me. Hey…stay strong ok…you will come through….you’ve come this far….believing in you…and in your corner…always…Sarah
4:40 PM on March 10th, 2010
I hope you can unlearn all of that. I think you are beautiful, and I don’t just mean your appearance. I mean all of you, and I hope you can believe that one day soon.
7:20 PM on March 10th, 2010
This is a great post for the Blog Carnival. People need to know. Know that he is a liar, what he taught you should never have been taught. He is a vial, ugly piece of human trash.
6:01 AM on March 11th, 2010
Dear one, it is so ggod to be back and on your side. I am in your corner. I had my therapy to work through teh abuse 15 years ago. I have overcome. The words this too shall pass, workked. I remember teh day where I regressed the first time. We tried at the t. office. I didnt work, Later being on the terrace i regressed alone. Thsi was one of the most frightened moments in my entire life. And it was a turning point. Ever since I stopped digging my hole deeper and with time I came out of this s+=/ hole. I hardly ever think of this time anymore, except reading you and other bloggers. The pain, the struggles and the misery. And I am so very grateful to have come out of the other side. Grace, you will too. Now trying to overcme hwat my mother has done to me, which only surfaced so mayn years after my first therapy, I often recall that I managed to go the frist time and I will AGAIN. WE are warrior in search of our true self, we never will give up. WE struggle, fall and go on again. Till we found thie magic place inside ourself again. WE are born this way, it is covered with pain and pattern, with all what other made us belive, with teh same and guilt which isnt our responsibility. YOU ARE HERE – beneath all these things. Love you
10:11 AM on March 11th, 2010
Thank you Sarah, I know you KNOW and have lived the struggles. {{{SARAH}}}
10:12 AM on March 11th, 2010
Harriet, thank you…if you only knew all that is on the inside…you might not commit so freely. XO~ G.
10:13 AM on March 11th, 2010
Hi Ivory, I have not seen any info on the most recent carnival. Do you have it?
10:15 AM on March 11th, 2010
Sweet Paula, I am so thankful you are back in my dark little corner, and thank you also for bringing some light with you. Love you too….G.
2:20 PM on March 15th, 2010
Grace, here’s the current carnival:
http://abyss2hope.blogspot.com/2010/03/carnival-against-sexual-violence-90.html
So you stopped fighting. It does NOT mean it stopped being rape; it does NOT mean you wanted it. You were too young to acquiesce; you were too young to consent with a knowledgeable will; you were too young to understand anything but violation and fear. Now you are old enough to be one of the walking wounded, as marred by post-traumatic stress disorder as any combat veteran, only your enemy was someone who broke all of the laws of society to rape you.
None of this is your fault; all of it is his. You are not ugly inside or out; he is. Do not hate yourself for not wanting to be touched: own that barrier, letting people know when they trespass, so you can tell them and your younger self that now you control what happens to your body. You are entitled to safe space.
You can’t unlearn what happened to you. What you CAN learn is that you have control over what happens to you now. Make your body yours. Buy expensive creams and rub them in. Get clothes that feel good against your skin. Make it up to your body for all the mistreatment, and with luck, you’ll begin to see that if your body wasn’t to blame, neither are you.
Would martial arts classes help? If you know you can defend yourself, it would make you feel safer in your skin.