Friday, November 1, 2013

It Is Not My Shame to Bear: My Story


It’s 10:08 am on a Friday morning. I’m sitting in bed, watching some mindless crap on TV, the kids are at daycare, and I’m still running a little high from the bottle of wine and entire batch of cookies I had for dinner 15 hours ago, which is almost exactly 47 hours since my life changed forever. Again. It was horrific. It was terrifying. It was torturous. It was all the horrors that little girl nightmare’s are made of.

I was raped. Again. But this time, this time, it’s different. This time, I was raped, and it was the best worst thing that has ever happened to me.

I’m a fairly private person in a really odd sense. I’m one of those weird people that shares too much, knows it, and doesn’t really care. That’s probably mostly in part because I know that whatever strange fact I am (over)sharing with you at the moment, is just the tip of the iceberg on what is really inside. I guess in some sort of psychological cover up, me being strange and over sharing is a subconscious way of weeding out the people that I don’t really need in my life. Like “Hey, I’m weird. Can you deal? Ok, we’re cool.” Because if you can deal with the abstract oddities that come out of my mouth, maybe, juuuuust maybe, one day, if I so find you privileged, you can deal with the “unbelievable-lifetime movie- this can’t be real” shit I have lived through.

Now I won’t bore you with the details of my past (ha, who am I kidding, I could get a job at lifetime and have enough scripts in my head to sustain the network for several years), but for the purpose of your understanding, I will privilege you with a seriously condensed version of how I have landed here, in bed, at 10:19 am, trying to decide between blackberry whiskey, xanax, or a really long run.



Ok, ready? Here we go. Baby is born to a really messed up mother. Said child’s mother attempts suicide multiple times before being institutionalized and then bouncing in and out of the house for the next several years. Said child’s father can’t deal and doesn’t come home very often, many times just staying at work all night, every night. Said child is now 14 and spending many days tending to two younger brothers alone. Said child has somehow morphed into an 18 year old with a litany of traumas and absolutely no knowledge of the real workings of the world. Said 18 year old meets 26 year old guy who takes her in, convinces her that she doesn’t know what unconditional love is (truth) and that he will show her (lie), and said 18 year old grows into a 21 year old naive adult that jumps head first into a horror that most couldn’t imagine.

Now I can imagine what you are picturing right now, that child, the one that shows up dirty for school, too small clothes, bruises covering her tiny body, why didn’t anyone notice her?

Erase that.

That is partly what is wrong with society these days, people expect to be able to recognize abuse, its dirty right? The kids smell? They are super skinny? Well here is a reality check for you. Be prepared, I am about to blow your mind. Sometimes, those abused kids, they are in ballet. They are on the swim team. They run track. They go on mission’s trips all over the country. Their family has money. They have no shortage of friends. Yet those same kids, they stand outside the school asking other parents to take them home. They get home after swim practice and collect their little brothers from the neighbors. They insist on going in the house first, because you never know when you might find mom near dead after another failed suicide attempt. They make dinner, digging through the bag of food the church has dropped off, looking for something they recognize. They do the laundry, help the little’s with their homework, give baths, and then at about midnight, they start their own homework. At 2am they get to climb into bed so that they can be up at 5am to take the little ones to the neighbors before they catch a ride to 5:45am swim team practice. But hey, everyone is cleaned, dressed, and fed, so they can’t be abused or neglected, right? Because they look fine.

Maybe, just maybe, that oldest child is doing a freaking awesome job of keeping up the façade of a happy, functioning family.


In case you’re a little bit slow (and hey, no judgment here), that “said child,” was me. Yea, I know, there is probably something deeply psychologically wrong with referring to yourself and your past in the third person, but hell, at this point I’m a fully functioning adult who isn’t in a corner rocking and drooling, so I don’t really care to mess around too much with my mental schema at this point. 

Maybe next year.

And in case you are wondering, yes, I am still on topic. Stay with me, because all of that, all that garbage that I have lived through, it has been the foundation of how I got to my proud rape moment. “WHAT!?” you say? Like I said, be patient. Over the years I have developed some crazy awesome coping skills. I was damned from the second I popped out of my mother’s body and have been told from the moment I was born that I was "hard to love." That I was not worth loving. In the chaos and unknowns that were my childhood, the only thing I never doubted, the only constant I had, was the knowledge that I was not wanted.

I remember walking down the aisle on my wedding day, white dress flowing, thanking God that I had made it. I had survived. I was not a casualty of my upbringing, I had gotten out. For the first time in my life, I was loved. I was wanted. And I was thrilled.

The wedding night, I was a virgin. Shocker, I know. I can’t decide if I am the most egotistical person I have ever met, or completely delusional, but I remember, during a particular incident as a small child, consciously realizing that the only person who may ever love me, was going to be me. And I needed to decide right then and there if that was going to be enough, because if it wasn’t going to be enough, I didn’t need to fight to go on, and thankfully, I decided it was. Even if I was only ever enough for myself, I would love me. I was wanted. I wanted me. So I grew up with the utmost respect for myself. Sure, I obviously didn’t understand how to appropriately read other people, but I respected myself. I dated, quite a bit, but never let them cross the virginal line. I wanted to wait, save it all for my husband. Giving my body the same respect that I hoped my husband would have for my body. But it wasn’t meant to be.

The wedding night, I was scared. I was nervous, and for some reason, I really was not feeling good. It was 2am and the limo was coming in two hours to take us to the airport (what idiot books a 6am flight the morning after their wedding). I asked to wait. I wanted to get to our destination and make all the dreams come true that I had implanted in my mind, have the night of my life. What I got was “You have to be fucking kidding me. What about my dreams? It’s every man’s dream to rip the wedding dress off his bride and nail her to a wall.” Only one of us had our dream come true that night, and I’ll give you a little hint. It wasn’t me. It all happened so fast, to this day, I don’t even remember it, any of it, after the initial struggle. He told me how terrible I was, and how I would need to learn to do a lot better if I wanted him to stay with me. It wasn’t rape though, right? I would remember if I had been raped, right?

Shaking, I managed to put on some clothes and off to the airport we went. What proceeded turned into a trip straight out of a horror movie. It had all the makings of a Hollywood hit. A hurricane, police ordered “stay inside” ordinances, a 104 degree fever, and “sex.” A hell of a lot of it. In the beginning, I cried. I banged on the walls hoping the neighboring room would hear me, but the hurricane was so loud, all you could hear was banging and screaming wind anyways. I fought, until I quickly realized that with a hand around your throat, fighting, is fruitless. It only takes a second to not be able to breathe. When the hurricane was over and we were allowed to go out, I was destroyed, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I was sick. So sick. A combination of actual illness and stress. My husband threatened to fly home, leave me there, and tell everyone he didn’t want me. That killed me. No one had wanted me my entire life, and I couldn’t bear going home to my family and having them proved right, as my new husband walked away. So I did whatever he asked me too. The self respect that I had long held onto, it was gone. Surely, if my own mother didn’t want me, and my new husband didn’t want me, the problem was me. I was not good at pleasing my husband. I was not good at doing my job. This was not rape, this was failure.

We went home and life continued on as “normal.” My husband had me un enrolled from college, seeing as I “had no reason to be hanging around with people at school.” I went to work each day as a physical therapy technician, smiley and bubbly as always. The patients would tell my boss that they came in just to see my happy face, that I was never anything but smiling and joyous, that I was the sweetest girl they had ever met and I would go home each night to my house of horrors. I would call my husband on my way home from work and be able to gauge just what kind of night I would have. 
Would today be a black eye night? Or would I be doing my “job,” as he called it? I stopped fighting completely. I felt numb. It was as if I would walk through the door each night and my brain would shut off. I was taught many “lessons” in those first few years. I was apparently a slow learner, but I exceeded expectations in one area. I learned how to take a hit like a man pretty damn fast. Most nights, to avoid any physical altercations, I would just get home, remove my clothes, and climb into bed. The word “breathe” written in permanent marker on my wrists became my focal point each night as I would brace my hands on the wall behind my head, so that my head wouldn’t slam into it with each thrust, the force that was my husband. I don’t really ever remember crying, but I know that I must have been because at least once a “session” I would catch a backhand while he screamed “do you have any idea how ugly and unattractive you look crying? I can’t even finish because my damn wife won’t do her job without crying like a baby and this is why it’s impossible to love you.” But I never said no. I said “I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.” That’s not rape, right? I took off my own clothes. I didn’t say “no.” That’s not rape.

A year into the marriage, that little nagging bit of self respect that I had left, it screamed a little louder after a particularly rough and frightening experience. I went to the police, and through my humiliated and sobbing tears, recounted my story. They called my husband on the phone and he came down to the station. They put me in the lobby of the police station and took him into the back. To this day, I still have no idea what he told them, but when I was called back into the tiny little cinder block room, the two male officers asked me if I was sure I wanted to press charges. That sometimes new brides are just nervous, that sex does hurt until you get used to it, that having him arrested would ruin his life. I said yes, I wanted to press charges. The two officers sat in chairs facing me, reminding me how much that would impact his life, and did I want to go home to think about it? Finally, after two hours, I realized what I had believed all along. I was wrong, I never should have come. This was not rape.

My husband was so angry at me, when he got home that night I will never forget the look in his eyes, seething with rage as he said between gritted teeth, “if that’s rape, you sure are an easy rape.” He was right. I didn’t fight. I had long since stopped saying no. This was not rape. And if it was, I probably deserved it.

Years went by. Two children were conceived, I stopped working. I spent my days parenting children, teaching Sunday school, attending toddler music classes and ballet, and doing everything in my will power not to let the outside world know what was going on in my home. Yet each night, the horror’s continued. I would spend my days fantasizing about how I could escape. Flee with my children, run away to a new life, but mostly, I thought about how I could do better. How I could be the wife and the person that I was supposed to be. How I could stop being such a failure. Then one day my infant son was the recipient of a black eye. I went to my “parents,” as I had many times before, and I told them I needed out. I was willing to move back into that hell of a home to save my children. My father told me that I would not shame the family by getting divorced. My mother told me that if I was doing a better job pleasing my husband, maybe he wouldn’t be so stressed. I didn’t know what to do. At this point, he was cheating on me with people he was finding off of craigslist, he was coming home high, and he wasn’t going to work. Then one day, he just never came home and that was that.

The legal process dragged on and it took a toll on me. I had a fantastic attorney that figuratively held my hand through the entire process, but it was rough. The morning of each court date I felt sick to my stomach. It didn’t help that it’s a several block walk from the parking garage to the courthouse. Do you know what kind of people hang around outside courthouses? Creepy ones. The second I would step out of the parking garage and onto the street it would start. “Hey pretty lady, why don’t you let me show you a good time?” “A girl like you shouldn’t be walking alone, let me walk with you.” And then of course there were the ones that just whistled at you, made animal noises, or walked by just close enough to grab your ass. Most times I would stand in the parking garage doorway until I saw another attorney walk by and then “stalk walk” directly behind him to the courthouse. For some reason just walking around with a dick gives you an invisible form of protection, and walking next to one makes you a little more off limits. But most days that didn’t happen and I would walk alone, feeling totally defeated by the time that I even got to the courthouse steps, already being reminded that in a lot of eyes, I was nothing more than a sex toy, an available body, and I hadn’t even gotten into court yet to face my soon to be ex. Several times I yelled back at the hecklers, many times amused by whatever witty comment I shot back. I would recount the story to friends later, and was never anything but amazed at their responses. “Why do you even talk to them? Just leave them alone.” Excuse me? I’m being chastised for defending my honor? This, THIS is what is wrong with society. Why am I being taught to just grin and bear it? Shove it down? Pretend that it doesn’t bother me? Why am I more of the issue then the person who is degrading me??? Most times I would leave the courthouse and walk back to the parking garage with my attorney, fearful my ex would be waiting for me. You know how many times I was cat called while with him? NONE. I was not blessed with the super power that is man junk. Totally ridiculous.



Now I’d love to end my story with, “and I got divorced, the community took care of us and got us back on our feet, and we lived happily ever after,” but while that is partly true, there have been some major setbacks. A day didn’t go by when I didn’t have at least one person tell me how amazing I was. Strong. “An inspiration.” That’s a lot to live up too! Somehow through all of this, I was happy. I have surprisingly always been a happy person. I can find the good in any situation, and it is rare to catch me without a smile. I believe that everything, even the bad, has a purpose, and I try to find a way to turn that into a positive. But my friends, they didn’t know the truth. I didn’t even know the truth. A year went by and I felt stronger than ever. I got my groove back so to speak. Or maybe, for the first time, I got my groove.

I threw myself into everything I did. I lost 60 pounds of post baby weight and worked out until my tiny 5’3 #105 body was stronger than ever. I became the parent I had always wanted to be, mixing goji berries and chia seeds into the kids organically pureed homemade yogurt and kale smoothies and washed their hair with expensive organic shampoo. We worked on flashcards at dinner and talked about life value lessons while snuggled up in bed. Because of our early wake up time, my kids went to bed at 6pm. By 6:30 the sitter would be there and I’d be off, whether it be to a comedy club with a friend or a concert with a date, for the first time in a while I had a raging social life, and I loved every minute of it. But deep down, I wondered, would anyone like me if they knew the truth? Did I even know the truth? Late nights were spent with friends sprawled out on my floor, wine in hand, long talks into the mornings, so deeply connected we all were, but never, NEVER, could I share THOSE secrets.


I did my best to heal myself, and in turn, help others. I volunteered to help abused and abandoned women get back on their feet, just as so many others had helped me. But I was shocked, that only after working with other abuse victims, did I realize that I was in fact, not just abused, but that I had been raped. I think the first time I ever uttered the word “rape” in relation to myself, my lunch came out with the word. I started taking pride in myself, the solidarity of the other women made me feel empowered. I realized, for the first time, that I was sexy. I have a sexy body. And I enjoy doing sexy things with it. Not with just anyone, only a select few, but hell, if I say pull the car over, lets pull the car over. And that is ok!! For the first time in my life, it was about me. ME. But the rape? That was my shame to bear alone. It had been my fault because I had done nothing to stop it. I had gotten myself raped. I had allowed it. And I just needed to get over it.

My ex? 
He didn’t go away. He broke into the house several times, he stalked me relentlessly, and after he got out of jail for not paying his child support, he got someone else involved to come after me. Who? I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted too, I truly don’t know. I can only assume it is someone involved in his drug circle. I went to the police multiple times. I called the state’s attorney and the domestic abuse hotlines. I needed help, and not one damn fucking person could help me. I’ll spare you the details because at this point they are irrelevant, but eventually I was assaulted by this unknown man. I didn’t even know what to do. I was so ashamed, and thanks to my past, I was so easily able to disconnect during the attack that I was unsure of what had actually happened, so much so that I didn’t even go to the police. If the police didn’t believe me when I had all the facts, they sure as hell wouldn’t believe me when I had none of them. I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t a big deal. People have sexual encounters every day. I’ll just chalk this up to a bad one and move on. Forget the total loss of control over your body, or the terror, fear, pain, and horror that accompany it, it’s just sex, right?

I decided to get an order of protection against my ex husband, hoping that it would make the police take the situation more seriously. The whole process was a nightmare from beginning to end, and at one point a note was left on my car while I was in my attorney’s office, threatening that if I didn’t stop talking to the police that “the next time I see you more than just me will be shoved down your pretty little whore’s throat.” I can only assume that it was the stranger guy. I sat in the attorney’s office with two male attorneys and a male police officer, and I couldn’t even bring myself to make eye contact with anyone. I was so filled with shame, and truthfully, I felt like a whore. What kind of girl lets guys do this to her and doesn’t do anything about it? 
A whore. A slut. Me.


The morning of the hearing, I sat in the back of the courtroom while my ex made kissing motions towards me. I ran to the bathroom sure I was going to throw up, and for a minute actually thought I was going to pass out before sitting on the bench in the hallway and nearly hyperventilating. I really didn’t think I could do it, but I knew that I owed it to myself to follow through, and so I walked back into the courtroom. For the first time in my entire life I admitted in public that I had been sexually abused. The order was granted and I left, wanting to feel victorious, but feeling scared for any repercussions that might come of it. 

A few weeks went by, a few strange things happened, but mostly, I hoped that for once, it was over. I could put the horrors behind me and move on. Until that night.

That night. The night the doorbell rang and I opened the door. The night that stranger guy pushed his way into my house. The night I was raped. Now this, this is how a rape is supposed to happen, right? This is what us girls have been taught, and prepared for. A stranger enters your home, sexually assaults you, and then runs away into the night. This is rape, right? But is it still rape if you didn’t do anything? If you just froze while being pushed against a wall? If you didn’t scream for fear you would wake your children and have them witness such horror? Is it still rape if you didn’t do ONE. DAMN. THING. to stop it???? Is it still rape if you aren’t even really sure it happened?


And what do you do next, when your neighbors are banging on your door, asking if you are ok, and the only thing you want is for them to go away, because they can’t know the truth? What if you can’t open the door, you are too ashamed, too embarrassed, what if you don’t want your neighbors thinking of you vulnerable and scared, naked with a stranger's dick inside of you? What if you are now curled up in a ball on the floor, hiding under a blanket, and the only thing you can process is “did that really just happen?” What do you do if after an unknown amount of time you realize the police are outside, so you mindlessly put your shirt back on (inside out and ripped from collar to navel), open the door and are forcibly yanked outside, wanting to know if the perpetrator is in the house, all the whilst standing near topless in front of your neighbors while you literally cannot utter one single word? And what do you do if you are seated in a chair while six male officers demand to know what is going on, and while you hear what they are saying, all you see is guns and male genitalia? What do you do when they are asking you if you are sure it wasn’t consensual, like maybe, because you like sex, maybe you were ok with stranger sex?

What do you do when they are ransacking your home and asking you to remove your clothes, are trying to take pictures of your body, and telling you there are no female officers available? What if the only thing you can actually remember is the smell of stranger guy’s cigarette and gum breath as he whispers “he was right, you are an easy rape” into your ear? How can you possibly repeat that to a room full of men without looking like the slut that you are? What do you do when the only thing you want to do is take a shower, climb in bed, and shut out the horror of the day? When you hear yourself refusing to go to the hospital for a rape kit because every fiber of your being cannot imagine someone touching you? When you feel like you may actually stop breathing. What do you do when the next day your neighbors refuse to talk to you because you scared them and you wouldn’t go to the hospital, I mean come on, there is a crazy rapist running around. Load your guns, hide your wives, the bitch next door didn’t go to the hospital and let you scrape invisible condom covered DNA out of her vagina so SHE MUST BE SHUNNED. What do you do when you realize that all the fears you have harbored your entire life about how people will react when they find out, have actually been true?

You start to wonder if you can go on. If by some freak force of the universe, you have survived when nature intended to weed you out. You start to think that maybe, you are, and always will be, fighting a losing battle. You can’t keep starting over. Everyday cannot be a new start to your life. You cannot possibly wake up every day and think “Ok, new life plan!” It sounds good in theory, but let me tell you, it’s exhausting.

I’ll tell you what you do. You reevaluate. Again. But this time, you have nothing left to hide. There are no more secrets in the closet, no more skeletons to hide. Everyone knows. Word spreads fast. There is no damage control to be done on this one. You have to make a decision. Own it, or give up and die.

I chose die. I chose die, and then I saw the sweet little face of my precious five year old daughter. I was crying on the couch and she threw her arms around my neck and whispered into my ear the very same thing that I have whispered in her ear every night of her life since the day she was born. “You are amazing. You are precious. You are smart. You are beautiful. Don’t let anyone tell you differently, and don’t ever forget it, because YOU. ARE. LOVED.”

At that moment, I chose own it. I chose live. I chose life. I choose my life.

I drafted an email. I sent it to some of my friends. I explained my past, what had been going on, what had happened, the choice that I had made, and that I needed help. I was terrified. My whole life I have been a master of disguise, smiling on the outside, and screaming on the inside. The wall had crumbled, there was no holding it back. Within hours people started showing up. Hugs, wine, chocolate, diapers, money, and support. They coaxed me into the shower, cleaned my house, forced some food into me, and took my children to give me a break. They jumped into action setting up a safety check-in phone tree, and changing my locks. I went to the doctor and had emergency STD and HIV testing done (update, it was clean thank gosh). I went down to the police station, told my story over and over as asked, looked at mug shots, and let them once again look over my body. It was hard. So hard. It all took place in a cinder block interrogation room. No sweet female officers, no social workers holding my hand, nothing like how it is portrayed on TV. Two male officers that asked me questions that would make nuns drop dead. But yet, it felt right to cooperate. And when it starts to not feel right, I will stop. And I will not be ashamed, and I will not feel bad. Because it’s about me. It’s my rape. It’s my body. I am not a whore. I did not choose this. I reacted in a way that allowed my brain to disengage from the human carnage that was taking place AND THAT’S OK.

And that little neighbor friend of mine who isn’t speaking to me because I didn’t go to the hospital?

Fuck you.


I’m sorry that I didn’t handle it in the way that you would have. I’m sorry that I am not as smart and brave as you. I’m sorry that I have spent my time cleaning your house and watching your daughter for free so that maybe on the fourth try, you can actually pass the “care and compassion” part of your nursing exam boards. That irony is not lost on me. Yet, because you are not only a woman, but a human, I pray that you never have to find out how you would react in that situation.


So here I lay, it’s now 4:16 pm. I’ve been writing this entire time. It feels good. It’s about me. It’s the story of my rape. It’s the choices that I made, it’s the choices that I stand by, and I refuse to apologize to anyone for them. I am going to raise my daughter in a way that I wasn’t raised, to respect herself and her body, and to know that if anyone crosses that line, IT IS NOT HER FAULT. If she doesn’t want to be heckled at, she has a right to defend her honor. If she wants to have sex at an appropriate age, no one has a right to pass judgment on what she does with her own personal body (please God, don’t ever let her want to have sex). In a weird, twisted, disgusting way, I am thankful for that last rape. I am thankful for Tuesday night at 7:50pm. Because of that night, my secrets were exposed, my skeletons were pulled out of the closet, and there was no turning back. I was forced, once and for all, to look back at my sexual history and realize, I DID NOTHING WRONG. 

For the first time in my life, my friends know all of me. All about me and you know what? They love me anyways. For the first time in my life, I know that I am loved for who I am, not just for whom I want them to think I am, but who I really, truly, am. It’s just really sad that I had to get raped to figure that out, but hopefully, for all the women out there that have yet to realize what I should have realized a really, really, long time ago, this can be the wake-up call that it is not your fault. You are amazing. You are precious. You are smart. You are beautiful. Don’t let anyone tell you differently, and don’t ever forget it, because


YOU. ARE. LOVED.




Photo Credit Whiskey Bottle: http://www.flickr.com/photos/add1sun/
Photo Credit Haunted House: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sandcastlematt/
Photo Credit Girl Lying On Arm: http://www.flickr.com/photos/pinkcotton/
Photo Credit Control Your Boner Sign: http://www.flickr.com/photos/schuminweb/



163 comments:

  1. You are amazing person, amazing and strong woman
    Greetings and best luck for you from Ukraine!

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    Replies
    1. Aw thanks :) Wow, my first Ukrainian commenter. Awesome!! ((Hug))

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    2. I have a random question out of curiosity. was your ex husband abusive (at least verbally) and controlling before you got married or did he change on a dime once he "got you" so to speak?

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    3. He wasn't physically abusive before we got married, but there were some major red flags I should have seen, and I didn't. He was definitely manipulative and degrading, but I didn't think much, if anything, of myself back then. I thought I really was a terrible and unlovable person. My views on people, and how people should act were so messed up thanks to my parents, that I was just....stupid, to say the least. He changed quite drastically almost immediately after we got married.

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    4. I just read your story and it mirrors mine, even from childhood. I am 50 now and like you, I disengaged and put the rapes out of my mind. I finally came to terms with it last year that it was not my fault. It was a cleansing experience. I am lucky, I own my own business and I am successful. I can and have made it on my own. When you ended your history with remember, You. Are. Loved. It made my cry. Thank you for reminding me just how special I am.

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    5. I know you and I love you. Women who have been through what you have can be very sensitive to the world we live in now: a unapologetic society that over sexualizes, oppresses and brutalizes women. I remember being talked into watching that show True Detective, with Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey. I was told about the rave reviews it had received from audiences and critics alike, but when I watched it I was completely disgusted and traumatized by how, in the very beginning, a young beautiful woman was raped, mutilated and murdered while posed nude in a suggestive and openly degrading fashion and all the while her body was serving as a back drop to Woody and Matthew's banal conversation about inviting him over to have dinner with his family. I had it turned off. How can that be viewed as entertainment? I refused to allow myself to be subjected that kind of psychological abuse nor be brainwashed into becoming desensitized by that kind of mistreatment of women. I couldn't believe that Matthew McConaughey, having daughters of his own, could allow this sort of statement and imagery about the lack of value of women, our bodies and our dignity. There doesn't seem to be a show nowadays in which a woman isn't being murdered, raped, victimized and violated in some way (or multiple women).

      What really terrifies me is how early this hatred of females is being demonstrated, tolerated and perpetuated by both men and woman in our society that hold trusted positions. There was a girl that was reported to have been bullied, sexually harassed and assaulted on school grounds by two male students at a kindergarten thru 11th grade school. When the parents reported it to the school, it was believed and documented that the Harmony school administration retaliated by re-victimizing the girl, accusing her of reverse bullying by speaking about abuse, told her and three other girls (who were aware of the abuse) to not talk about the abuse to anyone (not even their parents) and when a girl asked to call home-she was denied. From that point on the parents believed the boys were being protected and the victim was being attacked through retaliation, character assassination, isolation from teachers and peers, and her rights were being violated, etc. There were several allegations made that the parents and child's constitutional rights were violated and that they were denied their rights to the grievance process, particularly by the superintendent himself. The public charter school receives federal tax payer funding and is a public school but seems to be run by a private entity with a predominantly male Turkish administration (many of them believed to be non-US citizens and potentially here on visas). The parents feel that their daughter is being discriminated against because the PUBLIC school seems to be implementing Turkish ideals (Sharia law) and not enforcing US laws and because the victim is female she may be seen as secondary to her male counterparts and therefore may be viewed as have less value. At least one of the boys accused, is believed to be Turkish, and his potentially Turkish father was reported to be a prominent member in the school community. The worst thing, this is happening in one of the proudest US states... TEXAS and the Texas Commissioner of Education designee recently ruled that, in spite of a long list of alleged abuses and violations, because it is an open-enrollment charter school, the Commissioner has no jurisdiction in this case.

      It's not enough to protect ourselves as women. We must fight to protect our children. We must protect our little girls from being victims and our little boys from becoming abusers. But how?

      Delete
    6. To the commentor before the last one, you ARE special!!! It was not your fault, it never was. I am thrilled to hear that you are doing better, you DESERVE it!!

      *HUGS*

      Delete
  2. I am so glad that I read your story. I've been sharing my story, bit by bit, changing the names and telling the story like it happened to someone else so it's not so embarrassing and less painful. I was abused by my husband for eleven years. That is a long time, and recovery won't come overnight. I have been free and relatively safe for over a year now. I'm building a life for me and my son where no abuse will ever happen again.

    We will survive. ♥

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    1. Aw hun, I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. It still feels like it isn't my story when I am talking to someone about it, but writing it down, its been cathartic. I think its hard for people to understand why we didn't just leave, and its hard to explain to them why we didn't. I'm sending you a GREAT BIG hug :)

      Delete
    2. Saw your IHTM on xojane, came back to the beginning of your blog. Bless you. You were a victim and all those people who made you feel otherwise, quite frankly, need really bad things to happen to them. You saw my earlier comment; I went from an abused kid to engaged to a rapist at age 19. There is not a feeling described that I cannot relate to. Keep posting girl. Keep speaking out. You are brave, strong, beautiful.

      Delete
    3. I'm happy and sad that you could relate. So sad that you truly understand, I would never wish these feelings on anyone. But since you can relate, I am happy to share this journey with you.

      Don't ever forget how awesome you are!!!

      Delete
    4. I finally learned through many years of self exploring why I stayed and what to say to that question. It was because I was broken down to feel I was not good enough with the verbal, emotional and mental abuse and I was trying my best to prove to this person, who shouldn't have mattered, that I was good, loveable and the best thing that ever happened to them. Once my daughter, then 4, witnessed it one night, I left the following day for good and still lived a couple of years in terror and stalking. I really hate that anyone goes through this, and being raped by someone, then by the system that is supposed to protect us, is difficult to get over. It does my heart good to see how you have overcome what you have gone through and you are one very strong lady. My oldest son, who's father was the one that abused me, always tells me how strong I am and on Father's Day he always tells me Happy Father's Day and says I was the best mother and father he could have ever had. He's 22 now.

      Delete
  3. You're amazing, your story is amazing. Amazing isn't a good enough word, but that's all I got. The fact that someone can make it through that, and then recognize what happened, and be so strong, is stunning. This is why I love that we can share things like this, it's inspirational what we can survive. I almost cried. "You are amazing. You are precious. You are smart. You are beautiful. Don’t let anyone tell you differently, and don’t ever forget it, because YOU. ARE. LOVED." Mind if I keep that quote?

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    1. Aw, thanks :) Quote away! and don't forget, YOU ARE LOVED as well!!

      Delete
  4. An Amazing woman. Her circumstances would have killed most. Her children are very lucky to have such a strong mommy

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    1. Haha, I will remind them of that when they are teenagers

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  5. Just wow! So horrible but I am sure there are too many women out there that can relate to much of what you have been through. Your sharing can only help strengthen other.

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  6. Your story is heart breaking. I hope this helps you continue to be a warrior. Which is the only word I can come up with for someone who doesn't give up and keeps fighting

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  7. This is heartbreaking! Hang in there. I SO commend you for making so much of yourself and protecting your children!

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  8. That is a pretty intense read. I had no idea they treated rap victoms like that. I think if they publicly castrated the rapist two things would happen. 1- He would not do it again. 2- Others might think twice about doing it. Did they catch the jerk that did this?

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  9. Hey I just read all of your blog posts. I don't really comment or message very often, but I just wanted to tell you that you are awesome. It sucks that you had to go through all of that. I am going to subscribe to your blog and I for sure want to buy a copy of your book. Please update on here or by message when I can purchase !

    Best of luck, Dan.

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  10. Hello! I read your AMA and your blog, it moved me more than anything I've read on reddit, you are one amazing person. I would like to do something for you or for your kids, I know it sounds weird but I promise I'm a normal person and I don't have any hidden agenda, I just want to do something that would help or make you and your family a little happier this Christmas. You can ignore this message if you want to, I do understand since it sounds crazy...

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    1. Aw, thank you :) Just share the blog if you can, and send prayers!!

      Delete
  11. I see... Well, it would be inappropriate for me to pass any notions of how strong you are as a person or whatsoever without actually knowing you for long.

    However, your story is a very intriguing one. Ill look out for your book:)

    Being just a 20 year old spoilt lad with a decent childhood and a good parent i cannot hope to even pretend to understand your situation, however hang in there mate. I can only hope you'll do well in the future and continue your happy times now. You certainly seem to deserve a fair share of good times.

    Cheers to you :)

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  12. That's wonderful! I just spent the last hour reading your blog. You are an amazing writer!


    I chose die. I chose die, and then I saw the sweet little face of my precious five year old daughter. I was crying on the couch and she threw her arms around my neck and whispered into my ear the very same thing that I have whispered in her ear every night of her life since the day she was born. “You are amazing. You are precious. You are smart. You are beautiful. Don’t let anyone tell you differently, and don’t ever forget it, because YOU. ARE. LOVED.”

    I started crying in the middle of work on my lunch break.

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  13. hahahaha.... f*ing amazing,,,,,,, dark realities..........

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  14. I read it. I don't really know what to say other than to hope you find the strength to heal and find the love you deserve.

    To be honest I found your description of childhood more painful to read than the rest. I can't even imagine feeling (and being) unloved as a child.

    Don't get me wrong... I'm not suggesting that rape isn't incredibly traumatic, just that adults are generally better equipped to deal with trauma than children.

    Really, I'm talking out of my ass here... other than an attempted forcible abduction when I was 10, I had a pretty idyllic childhood. We were dirt poor at times, and went without quite often, but I never questioned whether or not I was loved and there was no physical or emotional abuse.

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  15. I never comment on articles.. specifically had to sign in and everything, so yeah this is a first.
    Loved it. Obviously not in an ice-cream way but an in-awe, inspired and unquestionably moved one.
    Relate in parts, but that just reaffirms to me how truly incredible you are.
    Merry Christmas and much love,
    Hunter

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    1. Aw, well thanks for your kind words Hunter. I appreciate you taking the time to read, and I hope to see you back here!

      Many hugs and Merry Christmas!

      Delete
  16. Speechless but inspired. We all have struggles, mine does not compare to yours! But I am inspired by how you can have such awful things happen to you and you can still find the strength to keep going. Your daughter is VERY lucky to have you and I am sorry that your own mother couldn't see how special you are!

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  17. I can relate to many, many of your experiences and some terrible ones of my own. Family abuse with no one protecting you, raped loss of virginity, abuse in marriage. I too chose life, and am now married to an amazing man and loving my children with all Ive got!! Keep fighting girl, you are worth it!!!

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    1. I'm so sorry you went through that :( I hope one day I meet my amazing man!!

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  18. Unbelievable story. You shed light on evil and overcame it with incredible bravery, strength, and LOVE. Thank you for sharing.

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  19. I know too well what you are going through! I wish there was a way to hug you in real life, but hopefully you can find a little peace knowing you are not alone in your struggles, estrangement and dedication to your new family!

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    1. Aw, I'll take your internet hug and I'll love it right up. Thank you!

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  20. I rarely comment on anything I read, but I couldn't help myself. I'm wiping tears from my eyes and I just want to come take you and adopt you into my family. Your writing is PROFOUND. I literally could feel what you were feeling from the core of my soul. You have talent young lady. I cannot wait to read your book.

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  21. Can you give us a guesstamite as to when your book is coming out? I followed you here from XOJane, read your entire blog, and I'm dying for more!!!

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    1. Aw, thank you!! I'm still working on it, I wish I could give you a better answer lol, but with my crazy life and two kids, I keep getting hung up! At this point, its looking like six months or so. :) Who knows, editors can tend to slow things down though, so fingers crossed!

      Delete
  22. what made you still keep in touch with your parents even after you had decided to run away?
    and this story of yours
    honestly re write in several other languages
    spread it across the middle east and asian countries where a countless no. of women are still suffering from what you had to go through( trust me i have seen it)
    maybe it might give them some courage , some hope

    *hearttouching*

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    1. Really!? Wow!! I would love to see what it looks like in a different language, send me a link if you have one :)

      Why did I keep in touch with my parents? Mostly I think it was because I truly thought I was a bad person. So many years of them telling me how horrible was, I honestly thought no one would ever want me. I think its human nature to want to be wanted, and I kept thinking eventually they would love me, so I kept going back. I kept trying to earn their approval. Society does not teach us that it is ok to give up on your parents. To walk away from your family. Society does not teach us that its ok to be alone. It doesn't show us that sometimes, being alone is healthier. So I repeatedly kept trying to fix things with them, to prove to them that I was a good person. I thought that having someone was better then having no one, and it took me a long time to realize that I never really had anyone that cared in the first place.

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  23. I'm crying. Well, not really crying; I'm just letting the tears roll down my cheek. I think you saved me today; not physically, but mentally. Our situations are vastly different, comparatively, but I can relate to the feelings; oh so deeply I can relate to the feelings. I know it won't make sense to you, and it can't make sense because you don't know my story, but I want you to be the first person to know that I'm not scared anymore. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I feel like there can be a next step because I don't feel so alone anymore; and maybe, just maybe, I'm not fighting a losing battle. My life may not be a lost battle. And I just realized I'm smiling, really smiling :) For all this, and so much more, thank you.

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    1. Aw, hun, I wish I could reach right through the computer and give you a huge hug. And some kleenex ;)

      You are never alone. Many women have gone before you, no matter what your struggle is, and many will follow behind you. I am glad that you found your way here, this is a safe place for you. You will never be alone here! I know the feeling of fear, of just being so unsure in which direction to move, your stomach churning so much you feel like you just want to fall into an abyss of nothingness, because surely, it will never get better.

      It will! It will get better. We are all here for you. Share your story if you want, or just read along. Whatever you are comfortable with.

      You will never be alone here. All are loved here. Welcome to the blog.

      You are amazing! You are precious! You are smart! You are beautiful! Don't let anyone tell you differently and don't ever forget it!

      The world needs you, you may not know exactly where it needs you, but it does. Give it time to show you.

      You wouldn't have found me, if I hadn't given it time.

      I love you :)

      Delete
  24. tl;dr
    Did someone FORCE you into marriage?

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    1. Up your game to play at this level, newb. All you're doing is embarrassing quality trolls. Go home, wet-behind-the-ears.

      Mods please delete this comment and the preceding as spurious and inept, it was not made in good faith.

      Delete
  25. I'm just going to say the obvious: you are a fucking hero. I mean that shit. 'nuf said.

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  26. You are brave and strong and as a mother, I wish I could go back in time and save that little baby girl. I'm so sorry this happened to you.
    You are a hero, and your children are incredibly blessed to have you.

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    1. Aw, thank you for that little soul hug of words :)

      Delete
  27. Hi you beautiful wonderful woman :)
    I'm in India, and today, I wish I could hug you as long as I could, so you could absorb the amount of respect, pure awe and love I have for you, and so I could absorb the insane amount of strength that you have.
    In India, a rape happens every 26 seconds, in the largest metros, in the tiniest villages. The victims are branded prostitutes by none other than the Chief Minister of the state. Google "16th December 2012 Delhi Rape", this is what happens. And I live in that city every day.
    I wish everyone had your mindset that it is not your shame to bear if someone has no control over themselves/ or has his "reasons" for doing so. It is never your shame to bear. It is not your shame to bear.
    Your parents, as much as I have been taught to respects elders, are the filthiest scum to walk this planet. In India too, daughters are killed before they are born (which is why prenatal sex determination is now "illegal"), daughters are killed when they are infants (by drowning them, burying a helpless infant alive, feeding them milk mixed with glass powder, etc), and their mothers are killed, beaten, raped, mutilated and what not.
    But no one talks about this.
    You are a wonderful and inhumanly strong human, and I love you so much!
    Sending hugs, support, laughter and lots of joy your way,
    A, from Delhi.

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    1. Oh my gosh, that just makes my heart drop to the floor. I can't even imagine living in an entire country where I was not wanted.

      Thank you for your kind words. I am sending you a great big hug!!! Don't ever lose your smile and your strength, you are a precious human being. ((hugs))

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  28. I came back to the start of your blog after reading your piece on xoJane, and I just want to cry and hug you. I have been raped by a couple different boyfriends, as well as verbally and emotionally abused, and I am always terrified to speak out about it. I love writing; it's my favorite way to express my feelings and it helps me to heal. But I'm always so scared that my family will see and ask questions I don't want to answer (my mom is verbally/emotionally manipulative) or that a future employer will see it and think I'm not someone they want to hire. I'm even scared that my attackers will come after me, which would not be surprising, unfortunately. It's wonderful women like you who make me brave.. and maybe soon I'll find the courage to tell my story. Thank you, thank you, thank you, and I hope you know that you have found a loyal reader, ally, and pseudo-internet-friend :)

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    1. I wish I could pull you through the screen and give you a great bit hug.

      I'm so sorry that you have gone through all of that. No one deserves that. Take your time, when you are ready, you can share. You are welcome to post your story here if you want to do it anonymously.

      I'm so glad that you have found your way here!!!

      hugs!

      Delete
    2. You are just the sweetest, I'm tearing up at your reply. Hugs to you as well! The work you are doing here is appreciated by so many people :)

      Delete
    3. Aw, hun. Thank you :) I appreciate all my readers and your sweet words :)

      Delete
  29. Dear survivor, No, it is not your fault. It never was your fault. Only the evil little boys are to blame and will hopefully be punished someday. The 'dicks' that raped you do not belong to real men. REAL MEN LOVE WOMEN and RESPECT WOMEN and WILL NEVER EVER HARM YOU. The evil done to you is by those who do not deserve forgiveness nor acceptance by society. Blessings in Jesus to you and your children, survivor. May your words give strength to more woman from now on. Signed, a man who cares

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    1. Thank you for that. Seriously, thank you. That means more to me than you can possible understand.

      Delete
  30. (Hard to see what I'm typing as my eyes have completely filled up, so excuse any typos...) That was breathtaking, in both the good and the bad way. I'm stunned by what you've endured, But equally as stunned by the goodness and strength that runs through your writing. Oh God that bit with your daughter: my heart actually aches.
    I will look out for your book!
    Blessings to you.

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  31. Aw hun, don't cry lol! Thank you for reading, and welcome to the blog!!!

    Hugs and love,

    Eden

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  32. Hi fellow survivor you story while different, is very similar to mine, most people don't believe my story either. My mother died 4 months ago and I have finally found myself telling people some of the secrets I have kept about my upbringing that I would never tell before so as not to hurt mums feelings or get her arrested. I know I have become a bit of an over sharer in the last 2-3 years but after finally leaving my long term defacto husband who was very abusive especially sexually I have felt this relief and I wont keep their secrets for them anymore. I dont tell people to hurt my ex or my mother and I dont tell others to get sympathy or to shock others, I tell because I am finally free they cant hurt me anymore and if I have to continue keeping their secrets it keeps me unempowered and bound by a shame that dosent belong to me! I cant help but feel a bit ashamed of myself because most people think I should stop over sharing (I dont carry on all the time and dont bring it up but if the conversation is related I figure why not?) I have been told to speak to a psychologist by my best friend but I dont feel the need for one now I am not messed up anymore quite the opposite actually I have finally let it go and I dont care about talking about it. But I am learning that others just cant deal with these sorts of stories very well or they think your lying, but if a group of friends are talking about our childhoods my stories are what they are and I wont make up lies. Once I learned to forgive mum and my ex, I became free; forgive does not mean forget but it brings peace.

    I left my ex nine years ago now and am pleased to say that I as a single mum of three went back to school and worked hard over the last 9 years to get a university degree in nursing which I was awarded dux of school for achieving the highest GPA and graduating in the top 5% Australia wide and I now work in a large hospital where I love to provide empathy and compassion to all my patients. Next up is my Masters degree and promotion to management in nursing, while my kids are doing apprenticeships and starting uni themselves - so proud of us. Thank you for sharing your story I love the words you use they resonate so much with me - Its not my shame to bear

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    1. Odd, I had written you a super long response, but I don't see it here anymore!!

      I am SO proud of you for how far you have come! You are an awesome person to have made it through everything and to come out on top, with an awesome education!! I'm giving you a big round of applause over here!!!

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  33. I can't even begin to describe how inspirational you are! I have been through a lot of shit in my days too but I am defiantly not nearly as strong as you are!! I hope some day I can be brave enough and tell my stories like you have and help and encourage as many people as you have by telling your story!! You are a true inspiration! You have helped me see that there is hope and things can be ok.... even for me. THANK YOU

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    1. Aw, thank you hun, how sweet of you too say :) There is always hope, and it will be ok!!

      Welcome to the blog!! I hope I see you around here again :)

      Hugs!!

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  34. Thank you for sharing your story. You are making an impact in this world, helping other women, by being yourself and "over sharing" your story. It's hard to be so open about something so personal and hurtful. Thank you.

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    1. Thank you for reading and for your kind words. It really helps me to know that its helping others. You are awesome :)

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  35. You probably cannot believe this but I've been crying for hours reading your blog. Thank you for sharing your amazingly brave life journey. Your self-belief is a source of empowerment for women who are going through abuse and life hardships. Reading about your childhood shine a light a number of things for me. I too came from an abusive family (my dad is a verbal and sometimes physical abuser towards my mom), only thing is I vaguely knew it was abuse until a couple months back (I'm in college and don't live with my parents anymore). The abuse wasn't on a daily basis and that's why it was so hard to discern it from "regular" family disagreements/fights. I have an older brother who, after watching my dad's abusive acts and being a victim himself, eventually became an abuser (his victims are his wife, mother-in-law and my mom). I'm okay now being away from my dad and my brother, but I'm gravely concerned about my mom. She's very dependent (doesn't know how to drive, unwilling to learn new things, internet, email etc.) and refuses to believe these 2 people are true abusive monsters. Anyways, my story could go on and on.
    I just want to let you know that you are inspirational, strong and kind human being. You deserve all the good and wonderful things in the world. Please know that you have my wish and prayer.

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    1. Welcome to the blog!! I'm sorry you are crying :(

      It sounds like you have had a rough road, I wish I could give you a big hug right now. I don't have any great advice, but just know that you can, and will, get through this. Things will get brighter and easier. A lot of us are on the same journey, know that you are not alone. I hope to "see" you around here often! Read the comments section and hopefully you feel comfortable enough to chat with the other readers, they are a wealth of great information. So happy you are here :)

      *Hugs*

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  36. Don't forget Lady friend, to tell yourself, what you tell your children, every night :) I know you've grown a lot since this post, I've lived though abuse - you, in my opinion, lived through cruelty. I watched my Mom be financially abused my dad, and so I chose men in my life to totally take advantage (ok let's be real - abuse) me financially. Why the F*** I attract these losers? I know why. Because it's what I know.
    At least one of them gave me two wonderful girls!

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    1. Thank you :) It is good to be reminded, isn't it?

      I'm sorry you have had your own trials. Yes, you are right, we are attracted to things that are familiar to us, no matter how unhealthy it is, its the only thing we understand. The first step is recognizing that so that we can change it!

      Hug your girls!

      Delete
    2. I wonder if we can find somebody on this globe who's experienced more and harsher trials than Eden.

      Delete
    3. Oh gosh yes. In comparison to the rest of the world there are DEFINITELY people who have it harder than me!!

      Delete
  37. I found this post by mistake I am glad I have. What you went through was evil know that you are loved. I don't know you, but I docare about. You are an amaziñg survivor.

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    1. Thank you very much Albert :) I'm glad you stumbled over here on accident, I'm happy to have you!

      *hugs*

      Delete
  38. "you are loved." Amen! You're amazing. As heartbreaking as it was, thank you for writing your story. I hope the rest is much better :)

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    1. Thank you for reading :) It gets better everyday!

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  39. I was raped too and I couldn't identify the assailant. I can also totally relate to starting over and over and over and wondering if my life is every not going to be a complete catastrophe.

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    1. Your life might feel like a catastrophe, but it's not :) You are too special to qualify your life as completely ruined. :) I'm so glad you found your way over here, I hope you are able to find a little healing in this blog, or at least a few friends in the comments section :)

      *hugs*

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  40. I'm kinda late to the blog, but I just want to say your really are awesome, I love you and I don't even know you. You are are all the good, strong things. (I was raped by my first husband "only" once; and psychologically and emotionally abused by my second). We are legion. And you are mighty. WE are mighty. And we will teach our daughters to be wise, and strong.

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    1. Aw!!! Well thank you very much! You are pretty darn awesome yourself there my dear :)

      I'm so glad that you found your way here and I hope you stick around! I'd love to have you :)

      **Hugs**

      Eden

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  41. Dear Eden--thank you for sharing your story. I never realize that I still have traces of that ghost of aloneness left in me until I read something like your story and instantly feel so much less alone. I understand what you went through and I'm so sorry that any of us had to live like that. I'm two-and-a-half years into my "coming out" with the truth of my abuse and addiction and everything and I'm sure you know what a rollercoaster it can be. I know you will continue to be free and loved, and I can't wait to read the rest of your posts.

    Take care,
    Apryl Pooley

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    1. Thank you Apryl :) I'm really sorry to hear that you uave felt the same way sometimes :( I can certainly sympathize at how awful that feels.

      I look forward to having you on this journey with me!

      *hugs*

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  42. Dear Eden, I still have not understood a long time ago why women put up with such treatment. Why do not they leave her man? Are they weak? Then I suddenly found myself after 5 years in exactly the same situation. With a man who beat me, my family threatened. And I was ashamed, I wanted the blame on me. I defended him when I was asked about it. I think it was because it was such a gradual process. I did not want to admit. He was such a great man when we first met. It took a long time until I admitted to myself. I had good friends who helped me protected and never condemned me.
    You are an incredibly strong woman and a wonderful mother for your children. I wish you all the best.
    Greetings from Germany
    Tanja

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    1. Thank you Tanja :) I'm so sorry that you went through that and I hope that you are in a better place now.

      Sending you a big hug!

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  43. I need help..
    I'm scared and they won't stop.
    Its my fault and I'm hurting them, but I need them to let me go.

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    1. Can you be a little more specific?

      Delete
    2. My parents have been emotionally, physically abusive to me since I was a kid (and financial as soon as I was old enough to get a job). I am one of 5 kids, all to the same parents. I practically raised my little brother myself, while also taking care of the house and making dinner every night. I am nearly 22 now and I have been told I have extreme and severe social anxiety disorder as well as PTSD. When I was in year 7 my male teacher abused me repeatedly but I was too scared to tell anyone, plus I thought that my parents wouldn't believe me or would tell me that it is my fault. I told my parents that I was a lesbian in about 2009/10, but didn't actually have my first girlfriend until 2012. She saved me from suicide and has helped me with me self-harm. I moved out of my parents house in 2012 to somewhere an hour away and hoped that would help. But I HAVE to visit them at least once a week, every time I visit them though I cry all the way home on the train because they were so awful the whole time I was there. I tried to make it so I only visit them for a few hours at a time and told them I could do overnight stays any more, but its not good enough for them and they certainly let me know that. They make me hurt so much and I don't want to see them ever again, but I scared that I will lose the special bond I have with my little brother, I can be myself around him and he has been my best friend ever since he was born 10 years ago. My parents will tell him the wrong thing and manipulate the situation just like they always do. I have talked to two of my other siblings, my big sister and brother, and they completely get it and agree with how I'm feeling and have both said thank you for opening our eyes. Now they both want out too. I can't talk to my little sister, she's 20 and practically a mini me of mum. My parents don't respect me as a person, they don't like anything about me, they criticize me constantly, even on the day I graduated uni last year, it wasn't good enough for them, now I've just submitted my honours year thesis and its still not good enough for them. I'm never going to be good enough. To add to all this earlier this year I came to the realisation that I am transgender.

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    3. Sorry, it wouldn't all fit in one comment..

      Well I thought that I could tell them and that they would just cut me out, I would have to be the bad person. They are saying its fine but that they still have to call me by my old name and use female pronouns, and 'continue as we always have done'. During a recent counselling session I discovered that I had been suppressing a lot of bad memories and that my dad is a bad, scary person. I haven't hugged my dad (by choice) in at least 10 years. he forces hugs onto me and it scares me, I have asked him to stop but he just yells at me and says 'I'm the dad, you just need to get over it and hug me when I want it', he is very physical and aggressive. My older sister has two kids and she wont let dad watch him without someone else being there because she is scared of what he might do to them. She told me that she feels pressured into taking them over to visit every day. My parents are trying to ignore that I told them I am transgender, so I rang them to reinforce the idea and say that I was going to take no for an answer, completely out of character for me, but I was hoping they would tell me to go away and never come back. It would be over, I would be free, Safe. But it didn't go like that and I ended up telling mum how much they were hurting me and how and that I needed that to stop too. She got really upset and I hurt her. I feel like I have wrecked our family, but was it already broken? I don't want to be bullied, bashed, spat on, beaten, taken down to, verbally abused and scared any more. I have epilepsy and I'm getting so stressed out that it is making me have seizures all the time. I can do it, I'm hurting them but I need them to let me go.
      If I sever the family ties does that make me a bad person? would I be making a mistake? I don't want to see them, but I don't want to lose my little brother Jack.
      Thank you in advance, I just need someone to tell me I'm doing the right thing.

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    4. Aw hun :( Sounds like you have really had a tough time!!

      I can't tell you what to do, the choice has to be yours. Ask yourself "is continuing this relationship hurting me or helping me?"

      I lost my brothers when I cut out my parents. I wrongly thought that I could have a relationship with them outside of my parents, but they are so under my parents control that they shunned me when I shunned my parents. It hurt like hell at the time, but I came to realize that if they couldn't be there for me, then it wasn't the relationship that I thought it was.

      If Jack cares about you as much as you care about him, he will make your relationship work if you decide to stop talking to your parents.

      Cutting out a family is NEVER an easy thing, nor is it always the right or wrong thing to do. The choice has to be yours and yours alone.

      My best advice to you is to weigh your options and see which one provides the life and the surroundings that will lead you to where you want to go in life.

      *HUGS*

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  44. I'm a little young to be reading this "12 years old" but I have to say your a freaking strong lady. I probably would have gaven up but gosh you are really strong in your bad times. And I just wanted to say you told your mom right. You did make it big

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    1. Aw thanks :) You sound like a great kid!

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    2. Your welcome, and thanks for responding!
      Ps- I am a good kid😄 :)

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  45. Thank you for sharing your story. I know from sad experience how hard it is to overcome an abusive childhood. I can only hope I'd have had the strength to survive myself if mine had gone on as long as yours. Every day is a challenge, but you have shown your children a true hero. Always take pride in that...

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    1. Aw, thanks love. I appreciate your sweet words. I'm so sorry that you had to go through that yourself :( Any time at all is too much time.

      *hugs*

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  46. So I'm here because of the yahoo story, yet I feel like it should of been more then just a random occurrence. Like many of the women that seem to have been brought here. My story is similar. I read this and I see alot of how I am in the person you are. I think if we'd met in person we would of been a couple of awesome, slightly disfunctionly, extremely hilarious friends. Good luck on this journey.

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    1. I would love another slightly dysfunctional and hilarious friend!

      I hope you stick around :)

      *hugs*

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  47. Everything in your world has been shaken but from here on you stand unshaken.God bless you for sharing and may you continue to inspire many more.There is someone right now being abused and needs to read this.Stay strong, God is with you.It's well for you and your kids.And maybe one day, your whole family will be healed!

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  48. hi, your story.. I don't even know what to say.. I just, I have these friends who are in abusive relationships, they see and they know and no matter what I or any one else, who does not want to see them hurt say, they refuse to ever even think of moving away from those men.. to the point that they were willing to give up family and friends to be with those despicable men.
    it hurt me to no end, to find that they would rather be with abusive men and keep making excuses for them.
    I only wish that just as you have realized that they too will one day realize that love doesn't abuse and they deserve more than that.

    thank you for sharing your story, maybe I can have hope.

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    1. Aw, it's tough to watch people do things we don't understand, and it's hard not to feel hurt by their actions, but just remember that what they are doing is so much deeper than what it looks like. They can't make rational choices because they aren't coming from a rational place. You can't understand because you aren't in that irrational place.

      Do know that at some point, they will need you, and they will be grateful that you are there, but for now, don't forget to also protect yourself :)

      *hugs*

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  49. I am 16 and from the Philippines, in a well-off middle class family, hot-headed but generally hardworking parents, a good school (and a great future school), and I have always understood that I have always been extremely fortunate to have had a good life. Still, I've always known that at any time I live, people all over the world have grave, universal-sized problems compared to my almost inconsequential, atomic-sized "issues". At times I become mad at myself for having a good life, for being born into a happy life, especially when I think I might not deserve more than, a lot of people, say, you, do. Yet I thank you for reminding me that it is not fair for me to be at mad myself at all for something I cannot and could not control (in both extreme good and bad aspects of life), and that it is the unspoken duty of those people who are born into good lives to assist those of the opposite. You are and will forever be one of my inspirations in life. Stay strong, and I hope true Christianity finds you to further guide you in your already-strong-willed existence.

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  50. You Are Brave. Salute.

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  51. Having grown up in an abusive, double alcoholic family, I can relate to what it's like living in a life of abuse. My heart goes out to you for all that you were forced to go through, no one should ever have to endure what you have. In our family, my siblings, my mom, and I were abused pretty much on a daily basis by my dad.
    Thankfully, us kids were not raped, but we were violently beaten daily, chased around frequently with a loaded shotgun, etc.. Mom got a lot of her beating by trying to keep him off us kids, and we, of course, intervened during the times when she was his primary victim, and that would turn his attention towards us. It was a vicious, recurring, cycle that never seemed to end until he'd get drunk enough to finally pass out for the night.

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  52. SORRY IT Wouldn't take all the post.

    My siblings, being 9, and 11 years older than me, got the heck out of dodge at ages 16 and 17 yrs old, leaving me there basically as an only child at age 7. Not that they would have been of much help anyway because they were just as screwed up as I was, if not more so because of the additional years of abuse they had been forced to endured; but it was kind of one of those misery wants company (or anyone sane/sober), type of things.

    As a child, a lot of my issues from the daily abuse I was experiencing at home boiled over into frequent violent, and bullying behaviors of other students at school, etc. It lead me to initiate many, many, fights, get suspended often; therefore, receiving further beatings, and abuse at home because of it. The last fight I got into I ended up putting the person in the hospital, and realized how unfair, mean, and wrong I'd been to so many people for so many years. Not to try to justify my behavior at all because there was no excuse for it, but I know now, and actually knew back then too, that my violent behavior was a cry for help that unfortunately never came.

    We had always been told if we told anyone about the beatings etc., or if mom tried to leave, that he would kill us all. Under the circumstances, I had no reason to doubt for a second that he wouldn't do just that. I knew out of fear, embarrassment, and shame, that I couldn't outright say anything about what was happening at home, but had decided if someone ever asked me, I would spill the beans, I would Tell, and then take my chances from there. I would get beat at home the night before, and then go to school the next day, and take my anger out on someone/anyone there because I wasn't big enough to win against dad, but I was big enough to win against someone my own size. Plus I really, really, prayed that someone would ask me "The Question", but nope, no one ever did.

    Fast forward years down the road: I got married to a man who was very immature, and verbally abusive. He constantly verbally beating me down, told me constantly that I was stupid, and would never amount to anything, but at least I wasn't being physically beaten down. I had a beautiful daughter-(yet was referred to by him as "Disgusting" because I gained weight when I was pregnant), I got my nursing degree, realized I'd had enough, and could not/would not take the verbal abuse any longer, so I filed for divorce. I got married to an alcoholic the 2nd time around, just smdh on that stupid decision, oops way to go stupid, (lol if I only had a brain), and I quickly got divorced. I got married, and divorced 2 more times-(these 2 times were actually to the same guy. We are actually still together, but are not married).
    My daughter when she was about 15 brought a little school friend home to spend the night and the 1st words out of the little girl's mouth was, "My momma said you use to beat her up all the time at school." Although I remembered her mom very well from school, I did Not, and still do Not remember beating her up; but if she said I did, you can bet I did. I did call and apologize to her and a lot of others who I wrong all those years ago.

    The thing is all forms of abuse sucks, and it affects us all differently, but no one deserves to be abused in any way, form, or fashion. We can choose to stand up, take control of our lives, and refuse to settle for anything less than what we deserve (Again, No one deserves to be abused, for any reason); or we can choose to stay trapped in that dark place, and forever remain a victim. But ultimately, when it's all said and done, you Are the only person who can make that decision. Good Luck to us all.

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  53. Wow is all I can say and wish all the best for you and your children, I'd love to kick the snot out of those guys who harmed you. You deserve a super man in your future and I hope one day he finds you and you find a place of serenity, healing, a beautiful place. Keep writing and we will keep reading!

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  54. My heart goes out to you
    never give up

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  55. I just read your story. How brave you are for making it through AND being able to tell your TRUTH!! I was married for 18 years. He was never an abuser until the very end. I did always live with the hope that he would want to be home and not in a bar somewhere drinking and doing drugs...but that only happened on days when he felt really bad from the night before. Towards the end, he began telling me that I would never be anything (job/career wise). Later I proved him wrong and roles changed. His career went downhill fast and mine went uphill fast! Thank God because I too had two children to finish raising. My two boys were 12 and 16 when we divorced. He has always stayed angry with me for having him put in jail for one of his abusive episodes that he hasn't had anything to do with me for the last 10 years. I'm not sure why, but he stayed away so long without staying in touch with the children that it seems to have become impossible for my children to WANT to have anything to do with him. The only time he wants a relationship with me or the children is when he's in between girlfriends. Now when I ask them if they want to talk to their father, it's always..."Why would I want to do that?". So I don't ever push it. They are grown up now and it's between them and him. They are 21 and 26 years old. My only fear now is that he will die and there will be unresolved issues that could affect my boys for the rest of their life. Thanks for letting me vent through this posting. I loved your story!

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    1. Thank you for sharing your story with me!! Your boys are lucky to have you! I don't think that we as parents will ever stop worrying, but I think that just means we love them. And vent away, heck yea, that's all I do all over these pages and then people like you show up to read them! LOL!

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  56. I'd like to comment on this as a man.

    I believe one of the biggest problems in the world today is the lack of effective fathering. That is to say, that as men, we desperately need to teach our sons to respect both themselves and others.

    As a martial arts instructor, respect for one's self and others is lesson number 1. All other lessons are subservient to that.

    When it comes to male/female relationships, mutual respect is the first and foremost necessity. From respect, trust grows. From trust, communication grows. With those three, love flourishes.

    To the ladies in this forum and blog, don't give up. There truly are great men out there who will respect and love you, with whom you can feel safe and secure.

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  57. I read this entire blog...I'm at a loss for words...recently I found out my wife was raped by a "familiar", how I found out continued to eat at my core, the legal process is cumbersome and worthless at BEST! Less than a year ago and the hatred burns brighter, hotter, it incinerates love, compassion, mercy, from my body. I'm frozen in the thoughts of murder, I want him dead. I've planned it. I've stood outside his home well past midnight. I'm a man. Born with strength, resolve, an ability to endure travesties with immeasurable damage. But this...this I am weak. I can not forgive. I can not move forward. I love my wife and I know being there unconditionally is the best I CAN DO. My four precious diamonds deserve better. I know my suffering is exponentially less than what my soul mate endured, but still.......I'm posting this because I want to move forward, as you have done. I want to be a better tool for my wife to use on her road to recovery. I do not intend to take anything away from your blog. But I believe me repeating what hundreds have already said might not have the same impact. Either way I'm not looking for a reply, but I do not have anyone to spill my thoughts and feelings and hoping that me doing it here might do something for me. Well, on to tomorrow and my daughter's dance practice, and kissing my wife with everything that I am. Thank you for sharing, your post ,which fortunately, reminded me that I still have thousands of miles to go intrapersonally, and infinitely more just being there for my wife. Thank you, sincerely.

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    1. You are always welcome to vent your feelings here, this is what we are all here for! You need to talk about it in order to move forward!

      Trauma impacts everyone it touches. You need to grieve and hurt, you are allowed to :)

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  58. We all don't have the same story but we do share experiences. Your story brought me to tears. When your daughter put her arms around you and that was your turning point meant a lot to me. Thank you so much for sharing. I want my daughter to know the same things you are teaching your daughter.
    I do believe you are brave and all your actions are justified as I react the same way.
    You are loved, even by people you have never met before.

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    1. Your daughter sounds like she has a great mother :) Thank you for your words of encouragment!

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  59. You are amazing. You are precious. You are smart. You are beautiful. Don’t let anyone tell you differently, and don’t ever forget it, because YOU. ARE. LOVED.”

    I'm so impressed with your daughter, it shows what a wonderful, fantastic, fearless and such a smart mother you are. I'm so happy to see how your true friends rallied for you and took care of you.

    Your strength is beyond words I can't even imagine. I cry for you both in sadness and joy.

    You did nothing wrong.



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  60. Wow. Your story really speaks to me. I'm still in the process of accepting what happened. It's so difficult to talk about it though. When I try, it's like I physically can't speak.
    Your story gives me strength.

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    1. It take time, but you can do it :) Give yourself a hug and some patience, you will get there!!

      *hugs*

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  61. So I read the article about you on Yahoo today about being stuck in the system and then found your blog and this page. So what is the situation now? is the article on Yahoo your current situation or have things changed for the better? I saw some comments but they were from Dec 2014.

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    1. That is my current situation, the article is new.

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    2. What is the best way people can help?

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  62. Thank you for sharing your story, thank you for exposing the truth of the society we live in. I read a story about you on Yahoo today and it led me here. POWERFUL... Be encouraged and know better things are on the way. Blessing!! ART

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  63. You're very strong - Amazingly so. You've triumphed over being victimized f years. You stopped the cycle by being a great mom. You are a truth teller and have a powerful message. I wish you continued fulfillment and happiness on your journey.

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  64. I read all the comments on this page... thank you everybody in the comments for being strong and continuing to live. I'll be praying for you! Also thank you for reminding soft privileged people like me to continue in life so that there will be another person for those hurting to fall back on. Also thank you writer of this blog for inspiring and responding to so many people. There is no such thing as a worthless person to me.

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    1. There are definitely some amazing readers here, aren't they? How awesome to have so much strength in these pages :)

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  65. so, I went back and re-read this after your 8-16-16 post and... look at you now.

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  66. What an incredibly powerful, heart wrenching, heartbreaking story. You are amazing. I just found your blog and look forward to reading the rest. You are beautiful, strong, and resilient.

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  67. WOW!!!!!!!!
    I actually dont know else to say after reading your blog and all the replies that follow, and i thought my life was screwed up!

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  68. You are an incredibly strong woman and mother. I have never read a personal story that powerful. It brought tears and my heart reaches out to you. Your strength will certainly help others and give a voice to those who cant be heard.

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  69. I thought my mother was a strong ass woman, but you have to be the strongest ever after reading a few of your posts and this one in particular. I'm a male and not usually the blog reading type but I clicked on an article on Yahoo today and read your story. I can't believe what you endured and how you responded. You are one tough cookie and hope for blessings in you and your kids lives from here on out. I have 3 daughters and reading this makes me want to be a better father and show them how much I love them and that they can come to me for anything and they will never shame me in any way.

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    1. Thank you Todd :) Your girls are very luck to have you!

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  70. I pray that God will constantly keep you, provide for you and protect you. Healing takes time. After the make-up and fan fare is gone the bare essentials become evident. I salute you sweetheart for the blog and making it so accepting, embracing and loving that many can have the courage to evolve and be free.

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  71. I read your story tonight and amazed what strength you have, God bless you and all the women who have gone through and will go through. Your words are inspiring and gives hope to the hopeless.

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  72. You are loved! beautiful! And soooo strong!! I was sexually abused at 3 forced into sex with ex husband told It was my duty too! Drugged and taken advantage of twice at 13 & 14! Then as an adult was on a date and was give. Champagne and it was drugged & sodimized. Shortly after that learned that I had a spinal Injuiry and my back had never been the same. That man hurt me badly. The scars are there and the pain is a reminder.

    I tried killing myself once because I felt most of it was my fault. My childhood was also traumatic and scairy.

    Just want to live a happy life. For the most part it is. I have four beautiful children! They are the reason I go on!! One day I know the wounds will heal! The stigma will pass..I wont feel like a whore or slut!

    I just want to live my life in peace no more violence.

    But I know I am loved!! And beautiful inside and out!! ❤❤

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  73. The strangest, most random serious of events led me to your story tonight - and I am SO very thankful. I am thankful for your honesty, your vulnerability, and your your willingness to share the truth - I KNOW how hard that is. I KNOW the courage it takes to say those words, and you not only did it, you created something beautiful (your writing is amazing) out of the depths of the darkness and evil you survived. Thank you. Thank you a million times - you are a light for not just the millions of woman (billions maybe? I hope not, but surely possible) who believe wretched lies about themselves - about who they are. I hope and pray that your powerful writing will pierce that veil of darkness that can feel forever present, and allow illumination of the truth (that you so beautifully articulated), to enter our hearts. That we are all precious, that we are all beautiful, and most importantly, we are ALL deeply loved.

    With my deepest gratitude and love,

    Mary
    -A new champion in your corner, a new sister in your journey - please know that I am now here for you if you need a reminder of your beauty, your worth, and the fact that you are deeply adored. I also know how easy it is sometimes, to forget.

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    1. I am happy that you have found your way here Mary :) And I look forward to having you on this journey with me! You seem incredible :)

      *hugs*

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  74. As I was desperately searching online for any reassurance after finally deciding it was time to cut my abusive family members loose...I found you. I have lived under the cloud of, "you truly don't know what you don't know until you know it." Actually, it was more like, "Do I know it? Did I imagine it? Is mom right? Am I making things up?" All I can say is thank you. Now I know I am sure.

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  75. Wow.

    First off, I think you are really brave to share something as personal and painful as this - out in the open, for everyone to see and judge, as honestly as you just did. Personally, I could never do anything like that. Your story really made me question and think about the way society portrays such issues, so thank you. I myself have never been a victim of domestic abuse or sexual assault, but through your writing I really felt as though I understood (to an extent) what it would be like to go through something as traumatic. I could go on forever about how emotive and thought provoking and downright incredible your post is, but at the moment I'm currently supposed to be doing work so I'll post something again later when I'm not rushing to get my thoughts down. That way I can really give you and your post the justice it deserves.

    Secondly, you mentioned in the first few of your introductory paragraphs that you were an avid swimmer and dancer in your youth and young adult years. I've never been involved in dance, but have loved to swim for as long as I can remember, and am always interested in hearing another swimmers story. Sports has helped me through a few personal struggles, and I'm a big believer in the healing power of art and exercise. What kind of level were you swimming at in your youth? Did you go back to swimming after you were rid of your horrible husband? And also are there any particular activities that you do to help yourself feel better on rough days? Apologies if these questions have been covered in another post, this is my first time on this blog.

    And lastly (for now), I have to say, you are an incredible writer. Please don't ever stop! Your writing has something so . . . Readable (for lack of better word!), and something that draws you in to your story and really made me feel what you were describing. You writing really sent a message and makes you truly think, without shoving or pushing a particular idea towards the reader. To put this into context how highly I think of your writing abilities, normally when I've been recommended a blog I skim the first post and then move on to whatever other tasks are at hand. With this post, I read the entire thing, from start to finish.

    I wish you the best of luck for with whatever comes you way! You are an amazing and talented person and you deserve so much goodness, and please don't ever stop writing because I'll always try to make time to read it. As mentioned previously above, I'll try and write another comment that truly describes how I felt about you and the content of this post, one that isn't rushed like this was.

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    1. Thank you for reading! What a long and thoughtful comment :) Yes, I still swim actually! More for exercise these days than sport, but hey, it's great exercise!

      Your words are so sweet, that I'm not even sure what to say. Thank you for sticking around, and I'm excited to have you on this journey with me!

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  76. Your blog especially helped me. I was raped by someone I knew who entered my home through I think a sliding glass door which wasn't locked properly. I was questioned by so many nurses and law enforcement officers. They took my blood and my urine. I was told all sorts of conflicting stories about an advocate who never materialized, I was also asked about my "orgasm"? After all of it and so many hours in an ER which was virtually empty of patients, I was to be transported to a DIFFERENT hospital for a "rape kit" and I just could not do it. I said I want to go home. I know the feeling of just wanting it to end. I felt so humiliated by all the blaming questions and revolving door of people who seemed to have not talked to their colleagues and their promises of an advocate which never materialized , it was a nightmare experience that kept getting worse. The worst occurred when a male nurse (doesn't really matter the gender) came in and and spoke loudly, authoritatively and condemnly that my blood alcohol content was "three times the legal limit" (I hadn't been driving!) and that I would need to wait for the "psychiatric nurse" and that was the on-duty MD's order. ??? I had explained that after the rape occurred that I drank vodka bc I was so upset and just wanted to forget it. I thought it was OK to do that. I realize it wasn't the best coping mechanism, but I DIDN'T want to go to the hospital or the police station. My female friend insisted on it and came to my house to get me. This was a generous action, but I had only told her a framework of what happened in the context of declining a get-together we'd planned that evening. So I did not ask to report it. I was forced in a very kind way. It was out of concern. She never doubted me, she didn't waver nor did she scold me for not wanting to do a kit. She was patient and supportive. I can't imagine a friend/neighbor who would SHUN you for not getting a rape kit. I felt that is what the hospital personnel did. I signed myself out against medical advice. Why would I want to sit in the ER for another SIX hours to wait for a psychiatric nurse to, what -- decide that because I had an apparent BAC of .18 (I was never shown the results of the urinalysis or blood work), reported a rape, but tearfully declined a rape kit after hours of humiliating questions and posturing I was CRAZY? I mean, that's what seemed to be their "diagnosis". And the physician (who never met with me) decided I should be held for psychiatric examination. So that would mean then once the nurse arrived, what that person would have decided to put me on an involuntary hold? Because I was sexually assaulted and drank alcohol to numb the aftermath, I was crazy. This is what makes it scary for victims to reach out for help from not only law enforcement, but even from health care providers. Reading that your unsympathetic neighbor was pursuing work in the health care industry-- it just hit home. Yes, we've heard stories of upsetting police encounters, but health care workers were horrible, but more shockingly so. This was not an urban hospital where one could expect jaded personnel. Once alcohol was detected, they turned 180 degrees in their stance. I was still the same person with the same report, my demeanor hadn't changed. If they did not want me taking up a bed (I gave them my working insurance card) then just tell me to "go home and get some sleep" or something similar, don't keep me there so they can "commit" me for up to 72 hrs. I did not threaten to harm myself or anyone. I was quiet in between the tears. these supposedly caring professionals see my helplessness and bruising and think I'm crazy then anyone else will too. And so not even my parents know. But, thank you for telling your story to me. You made it public and it helped me.

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    1. You are not crazy, and I do believe you. Im so sorry that you are going through this :( You deserve better.

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  77. Can I simply say what a relief to uncover an individual who actually knows what they're
    discussing on the internet. You definitely understand how
    to bring a problem to light and make it important.

    More people should look at this and understand this side of
    your story. I was surprised that you are not more popular
    given that you definitely have the gift.

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