This is not a poem. Nor a column. More of a letter, I suppose. I remember when I used to ask myself the same things. And I find it ironic that something to do with my past regarding this just creeped up to bite me yesterday and it's lingering today.
Let me tell you my story first... {I write about this topic often and have posted many columns about it, if you wanted to read some of it...}
My brother was always abusive towards me. Verbally, physically, emotionally, psychologically, and then...sexually. I was about 8 or 9 when it turned sexual. He was 11 or 12. To shorten the story and try not to trigger anyone, he molested me for awhile, and eventually raped me twice. It stopped though and he returned to other forms of abuse. I never told anyone. It made my childhood hell (not to mention I was molested twice more in this age range by two females that were my 'friends'). And once I hit puberty (probably well before but this is when I recognized it for what it was) I became extremely depressed. I began to become self destructive. My main sources of such destruction were pills (I've od-ed up to, if not more than, 10 times, and have only been checked for liver damage after the first two times), blades (I'm a recovering cutter right now, went on for over 6 years, and my forearms and one leg are covered with viscous scars), and matches/lighters (I used to burn myself, mostly near the wrists, causing ugly scars as well). I'm sorry if that was too vivid for anyone. But it's real and it's raw, and it's my life. To make another long story short, I told my best friend in a notebook we shared about my brother and about my 'habits' (so to speak), the notebook got lost, and the school got involved when it was found. My parents were contacted, I was nearly hospitalized (but at the time knew how to manipulate my mother enough to get out of that one), and was put into therapy. I was extremely resistant at first. I never once spoke a word to my therapist either (and I saw him for three years), I just wrote to him in a notebook (as voicing what has happened to me is still difficult after all this time).
During this process, I met a boy. He seemed to be in a similar situation, not unlike myself when it came to dealing with things. We lived states away but I convinced my parents to help him get out of the hostile environment he was in and to live with us. I honestly thought that I was doing the right thing and helping him. But he turned out to be the boy your parents warn you about. He lived with us for a month {and more details of this point in my life are in some of my columns}, and over the course of that month I endured abuse from him non-stop. Most of it was emotional and especially psychological {he really fucked me up}, physical at some points, and then sexual. He raped me 7 times. At the time, I was in such denial, I believed I had wanted what happened. My best friend saw through it, especially when I called her crying telling her I couldn't do it anymore, she told me that he was killing me. And he was.
Therapy continued to help me work through this point in my life. I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder {PTSD, which most rape/abuse victims suffer from), Anxiety disorder, slight Dissociative disorder, a slew of mood disorders, sleeping disorders {usually insomnia}, slight OCD, and a variety of other things. I deal with these things everyday but I can function. And that's the point, I've learned how to function around all the nightmares, the triggers, the linger blow to my self esteem and self image.
I reported the second boy this past June (1 yr and six months after it happened). The cops were really understanding. The detective I spoke to about it though humiliated me and basically called me 'a vicious ex gf' (I never dated him,though he seemed to think otherwise). The report is filed, but I haven't the heart to pursue it and honestly, reporting it was enough. Though, before reporting it, I did talk to the boy's current gf (she dumped him and realized she was in a similar situation), and a few of his exes that all believed me. The boy got into contact with my fiance and threatened us but we are safe and that time has passed.
"Does the hurting ever stop?
Do the memories ever go away?
Does the pain at least fade?"
The memories will never go away. Ever. You will never forget the way your body and soul were violated. But that does not mean that you have to be hindered by it for the rest of your life.
I've been through a hell of a lot in my short years (I'm only 19), and yes, I was raped, yes, I was abused, yes, I'm still dealing with it to this day. But, no, I have not let it consume me. That's one of the things it takes a long time to get past- the shame, the blame, the hatred, and most of all, the pain. And it took me a long time to understand that being abused, being raped, had positive outcomes. This column will help you understand what I mean by that: http://allpoetry.com/column/show/2334154.
You were a victim, but you survived.
Yes, the memories will always be there, but it's a matter of how you let them affect you. The pain will fade, not completely, never completely, but all wounds heal to scars. The real questions are:
Will I let this ruin my life?
Or will I learn from it and let it help make me a better person?
I hope I've helped in some way. It's a long struggle ahead, but you are strong, and you will make it. Never lose hope. There are always people out there that love you and will help you. I'm one of them. You can contact me anytime.
Author notes
I'm always around if anyone wants to talk. And kudos to you, Babyshake, for having the courage to talk about this. ::hugs::
A contest entry
- Tell me, will the hurting EVER stop? by Number 13.
450 points, ended November 16, 2007, 14 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Thank you for sharing this and I will be sure to check out your columns.
I'm 19, as well.
I've burned myself with cigarettes, cut, burned myself with salt and ice, took up smoking for a bit, began drinking.. choked myself.. made myself throw up... and I pop so many pills that none of them even really work for me anymore, I became addicted to IBprofeuon I took 6 of them every few hours.. it was a habit, i did it naturally at one point, I didn't even have to think about it.
I slept with my ex boyfriend telling myself that I wanted to even though I knew I didn't want too..
I hate to be touched, I'm afraid to even trust my own father, I hate it. I know he'd never hurt me but it always feels as if the world is out to get me, I'm afraid to go outside.. afraid to be near strangers, afraid to be near those who aren't strangers...
I'm terrified of my uncles, 4 of them molested my mom from the time she was born until she was 12.. If any of them ever touched me, well then I was too young to remember.
I've let my molestations control my life though, I live in fear, ever since the first time I've lived in fear.
I cried, once, after the first time it happened, after that I didn't cry for 6 years.. and now I cry over the littlest things, I've lost myself, that is if i ever even had myself.
I don't even know who I am anymore..
Anyways, enough of my ramblings.
Thank you for sharing this <3
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You remind me so much of myself and my best friend {she too has been through similar problems, and she also was addicted to ibuprofen, taking 6 or so each day, and she has a fucked up stomach because of it}.
I hate to be touched too. Especially by strangers. I flip out on people really easily. Anger is my quickest emotion, even if I'm really sad or hurt, it always becomes anger.
It took me a long time too to cry. Crying is something I actually have problems with because I'll go through periods in my life where I literally forget >how< to cry. When I do cry, I let it all come out cuz I know I may not get another opportunity for awhile.
It's rough. I wish that I could tell you that one day you'll reach a point where it just *pouff* disappears, but it doesn't. I still get triggered, not everyday, but every now and then something will trigger me... It's hard, but we can make it.
Have you gone to therapy? Or talked to anyone close to you about this?
I suggest doing either of those- it's scary as all hell, but I've found that it helps.
I'm always around if you need someone to talk to. ::hugs:: -
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Yeah, I jump when people touch me,
before my dad knew about the molestations
he thought that I was just afraid of him
but that wasn't it and I never really knew what to say.
No, I've never gone to therapy..
I talk to friends about it sometimes..
They try to help but most of them don't understand
what it's like yet they sit there and say "I understand."
but it's just "No, you don't, really."
I mean i'm sure people can imagine how bad it hurts
but what they imagine is nowhere near how badly it hurts.
But yeah..
I try to write about it sometimes..
I wrote a letter somewhere within my poems,
to the three guys that hurt me,
I then posted it on myspace in hopes that the one guys sister would read it, if she did she never said anything to me, it hurt. She still doesn't realize why I don't want to have anything to do with her or her family anymore..
Thank you ♥
I'm here if you ever wanna talk, as well <3 -
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What a lot of people don't understand is how deeply rape/abuse/molestation hurts not just a person, but a family, a group of loved ones... It doesn't just affect those that endure it but those that have to deal with that person afterwards. A lot of people sympathizes with us, but they don't understand, and truthfully, I wouldn't want them to because in order to fully understand, they would have to go through it too. It's a matter of are they being respectful listeners and trying to help. You have to forgive those that try to help you, as long as they are honestly trying to help you, and being sensitive about the subject.
Writing has helped me a hell of a lot more than I ever thought it could. It's a constant in my life and I am forever grateful for that. But therapy and making friends with people who have similar pasts has helped me more than I could have dreamed. I thought talking about it would only make it worse, and yeah, it made it seem more real, but it also made it real enough for me to realize that it happened and I need to move past it.
I suggest therapy or even finding one of those online email or even myspace groups or groups on here... It's good to connect with people who can help you understand yourself better.
It's a long road to recovery, but you're making the right steps towards it...
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Yeah..
ugh loss of words now :/
geez after ALL that.
Phooey.
I think I need to write.
Thanks <3 -
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It gets better with time... ::hugs::
<3 -
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Thank you♥
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