Now, I’ve been tweeting bout my rape struggles and I kinda opened a few cans of worms… And I’m like “I shouldn’t have” because people are coming out bout their rape stories and I scratched some wounds of my own.
I scratched wounds that haven’t healed cause I’ve never given myself a chance to nurse and heal them.
Ok. I was raped twice and molested by family member.
In most rape cases, the perpetrators are people we know quite well.
1st time I was raped, I was 3. And 20 years later I still remember it like it happened just yesterday. I don’t remember anything bout my life when I was 3 except the day it happened, the day after it happened and the court case that dragged on a lil beyond my 4th year. Oh, and I also remember that social worker I didn’t like… Whatever.
Then it happened a 2nd time and I don’t remember much of that year either. Just remember the day it happened and the few weeks that followed that day cause everything was linked to that day for a while.
A part of me feels that I was robbed, not only off my childhood, but my entire life.
I have issues with men generally. Trust issues, sex issues, relationship issues in general…
I feel awkward and terribly paranoid when I’m alone with a guy. I think to myself I should either give him what he wants or he’s gonna rape me… I look around wherever we are for possible weapons to use in case he tries… I give my cousin detailed information bout who I’m with, where we are, what he drives, number plates, when I should be expected back and the guys number in case I don’t come back. It really doesn’t matter who you are and how long I’ve known you cause it’s always those people that pulled rape stunts on me, why should I trust whoever?
I stay paranoid with absolute strangers too cause I’m thinking if someone that close to me could do it, what will stop a stranger?
1 in every 3 females gets raped atleast once in her life in our country… Now, I’m not saying every victim is like me but imagine how possibly toxic our society is.
I don’t even wanna address rapists, I just wish they all die a slow and painful death and they rot in hell.
The horror they put us through… The shame we feel, the nightmares, the burden we carry til we die… How am I gonna tell the man I wanna spend my life with that I’m dirty from your filthy penis too? How do I tell him how you fit on the list of people I’ve “slept” with? How do I not feel ashamed? Imagine it’s your daughter in this position… How would you feel knowing somebody helped themselves to her vagina?
The dog that raped me when I was 3 died in 2003. I hope he’s in hell and phucken screaming like I was. I hope he’s crying harder than I was. I wish all the shitty things for him. I’ll never forgive him. I don’t care. Lord knows I tried. Therapists stay saying “forgive and set yourself free” but I doubt a rape victim knows of any psychological freedom. The word “rape” pops up and your life flashes before your eyes.
There’s no freedom, not while rape numbers stay going up.
“You Define Your Own PERFECT” – Charleen Mahery