I never thought I'd talk about this on the net, not in blog form, but I guess I'm going to have to now. I just finished an excruciating one about my own abuse as a child. I was reading a blog by a wonderful girl that was having a hard time because someone in her family was being attacked on her blog because of some physical as well as mental issues related to being raped when she was younger. This prompted me to have a read and see what was going on and I started thinking about it. This is yet another “adult issue” I have had to deal with myself.
At 19 I was raped. By someone I thought to be a friend. Granted he was much older (27 to my 19) and we’d gone out on 2 dates. For our 3rd date he asked if I would like to go see an air show a couple of hours away from where we lived. Sure I wanted to go, but would we be coming back late at night, or what? He said he’d get us separate hotel rooms, but when we got there to check in, he said that there wasn’t one available, so we’d have to share. He volunteered to sleep on the sofa. Ok sure, whatever. Heck, I just wanted to go have a little fun; I figured he’d always been a gentleman so why would I think anything different this time? We went to the show and had a good time. Afterwards we went out for dinner and then to a local bar for a couple of drinks. Yes I was a minor, and yes I had a fake ID, but I wasn’t planning to have many drinks…I had 2, he had many, I lost count after 5 or 6. He said he was ready to leave and go get some sleep since we had an early checkout.
Back at the hotel, I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and change into my pajamas (a long t-shirt style nightgown that came about mid-calf…with Mickey Mouse on it – not exactly sexy, ya know?). When I came out of the bathroom, I didn’t know what hit me, but I was lying face down with my face smothered in a pillow and he was on top of me, screaming, hitting me, biting me, calling all kinds of foul names….and raping me, sodomising me. I remember trying to scream, flailing about as much as I could since I was pinned down. I fought, but I wasn’t strong enough to do anything. I weighed all of 112 pounds at the time, I had no chance.
The next thing I knew, it was over. He was lying on his back passed out. I was scared and angry and hadn’t a clue as to what to do. I remember going into the shower and God only knows how long I was in there, but then I came out and dressed and walked. I walked the streets of
I had no idea what to do. I was scared and alone, my family wouldn’t have anything to do with me since I’d moved away from home and quit going to their church. I had very little money and a shitty job waitressing. I talked to a friend who knew what had happened, she’s been raped, too, and knew what I was going through. Even though she was Catholic she sent me to talk to someone about an abortion, she understood that I couldn’t stay pregnant, I couldn’t give up a child, and I couldn’t raise a child born of rape. So I went to a local clinic and had it done. So much of what happened after that is lost to me and I don’t really care to remember too much anyway since I do know that when I did tell my parents about it, they blamed me, told me I mustn’t tell anyone because it would bring shame on all of us. They didn’t want their friends to know, they refused to help me see a therapist because they don’t believe in them. It took many years before I went to one; I dealt with it on my own the only way I knew…which, of course, wasn’t very healthy, but I survived.
I’ll finish the rest of this later; I just can’t go on with the memories right now.
I am ok now, I have seen a therapist and continue to do things to deal with the memories, but they are no longer daily intrusive thoughts, thank goodness. They only come now when I read about others going through the same thing.