Doing Coke

Haven't written in a while... but doing coke... randomly...

Just wanted to say hi...

More later...

Crossroads

I'm at a weird place in my life. This post most likely won't make much sense. I'm tired, stressed out and sad.

I might have to move soon for work, but unsure if that's what I really want. So if I decide to not go through with it, then I'm back at square one with looking for another job, and if that happens, it won't be here... I'll be moving somewhere else, just not where my job wants me to move to. I don't feel like my bosses really understand how much I do and go through for this job. How much I deal with on a daily basis. How all of the guys talk about me, hit on me, tell other guys that they've hooked up with me. I'm a piece of meat at that company, and I know that. But it's the price I pay for getting paid what I get paid, yet I still feel like it's not enough, especially because I do everything by myself. No help. No assistants. No one else by my side. I do it all. But I'm beginning to feel like I'm not getting financially compensated for it. I need the financial security. And I'm afraid that I may be waiting forever if I stay with this company. Yet, I've been included in their profit-sharing program, and the client I work for within my company is our most lucrative client. There is incredible growth for potential, yet I don't know when the growing will actually begin. I feel stuck. I don't want to relocate where they want me to. But I don't know if that may be the big change I need... but even with that being said, something about that move just doesn't feel right to me. I don't know why. Something's missing.

Another failed relationship. This is what's really bothering me. This is what is really discouraging me. I don't understand why things never work out. He's so good at the apologies, but that's just it... I'm tired of him saying he's sorry for this or that, and telling me things like how he knows he's been an asshole, and that I deserve better. What is about me that gets involved with these assholes that are so good at taking advantage, and being completely selfish and ruthless when other's feelings are involved? I don't understand it. I don't get it. I'm tired of these fucking games. On one hand, I'm trying to be the bigger person, be forgiving, give people second chances, accept people just as they are... yet I feel like instead of that being matched and appreciated, it's taken advantage of until I'm made to look like "that girl"... that girl who is being played, except she doesn't see it until it's too late.

I thought it was going to work with this one. The way we met, how I met everyone in "his life" so soon, how open we were with each other... but then it changed, as it always does. I just want to be with a good person. A good person with a good heart who makes me laugh, makes me feel safe... someone I can be 100% around... someone who can handle my past, and can love me anyway because of it... someone who just "gets" me. I feel like I've paid my dues. I've been through enough shit, muscled enough bad experiences, have had my fair share of awful relationships to know that he has to be out there somewhere... I just don't know where. And I'm not the kind of girl who goes looking for this kind of thing. I'm the kind of girl who takes care of herself first and foremost, does whatever she wants and needs to have a good and happy life, and people will come and go, like the days and seasons... good and bad things will keep happening because that's life... I'm the kind of girl that is so fascinated with life that I dare not risk anything to not live it to the fullest. I just wish I could meet someone who loved to live as much as I did, and someone who has as much love to give as I do.

There is one man that I always wonder about... always wonder if we will end up back together... if we are meant to be... and as soon as I talk myself away from him, out of the friendship because it's just too hard to always wonder "what if"... he pops back into my life. He is the one I have bene most compatible with, the only one I can be myself around, no matter what - good or bad. I do not fear he will judge me, because he never has, and I know he never will. He is a good, honest man. But I can't wait any longer. We dated years ago, and after almost five years, I have to walk away from him because I have to let go for good. Yet, when we do walk away from each other, we always end up back in touch somehow, in some way. I can't tell what's more difficult... to be "just friends" or be nothing at all.

I'm so confused. Tired. And frustrated, discouraged and confused all over again.

I need to know what to do... what decision to make... I need a sign... been weighing all the negatives and positives of every possible direction I can take with my life, and it's all equal... one path not being btter or worse than the other... it's just a matter of figuring out where my heart lies... and my heart has no idea...

Goodnight...

Family Ties

I'm at my Grandmother's house right now. She passed away March 31, 2006. Last time I came out here for a visit was Christmas the same year. It's been a year and a half since I've made the trip. And it's not even far. I just haven't done it. And I don't know why.

I told myself a few days ago that no matter how busy I am, I have to make time for my family, for these visits, because no one knows you like your family.

But now that I'm here again, visiting only for the second/third time in two years, I'm wondering if even they really know me.

I don't know if it's true that because you have the same DNA, you automatically understand and accept everyone in your family. But I'm wondering about the flipside: If I will ever be understood and accepted by all of them.

I want to tell them about the rapes and how things have been, but I can't - I come from a different culture... a culture where I would be blamed for what happened because women are supposed to be submissive and obedient... a culture where women have no say in their way of life... they just live as they are told.

I thought - I WISHED - I'd have different internal reactions to certain situations I knew I would be in... but instead, I'm realizing I'm just growing more and more frustrated at how some things will never change. But isn't the only constant supposed to be change?

I wish the fights didn't happen... I wish some would drop their drama and get back to their normal relationships... I wish some wouldn't go out of their way to make inappropriate comments at the wrong time in front of the wrong people... I wish I didn't feel like I have to hide stuff to just preserve the peace... but most of all, I wish I didn't feel like some people were so fake with each other...

I just get so tired of feeling like everything is so make believe around here... too tired to write more... going to finish my wine, watch tv and get some sleep.

Rule #1: Trust Yourself

I think it's safe to say I'm over this new guy I've been dating. I know I just wrote how much I liked him, but after I met with my therapist today, I know I have to trust my gut instead of what I hope will be... hoping because I think there's something I should do differently to make it work... something I should do because I feel like I have to fix everything... fix everything around me because I can't fix myself...

But I'm not broken.

My trust is broken - yes.
My motivation to try another relationship is broken - yes.
My faith that there are still good-natured, whole, real people out there is broken - yes.

Or maybe these are the things that don't necessarily need fixing... they just a little reconstructive surgery... a fresh outlook... a new beginning...

Ironically, my biggest struggles are the things I value the most about myself - is that even possible? The fact that I am a very trusting and loyal person - but I have such a hard time trusting others... My motivation to help others in their recovery to finding a better life after rape - but I sometimes find myself lacking the motivation I'm so ready and able to provide... And reminding others that anything is possible if you keep faith in your strength and courage to overcome anything... but I sometimes feel like I have the least amount of faith in myself.

I like this new guy, but I know myself much better now. I've done a shitload of self-reflection and emotional purging of my biggest, scariest life demons these past few years (as you'll notice from my early posts). I know I'm a completely different person - a better, safer, more solid woman and human being because I can FEEL it. I can feel myself actually experiencing Life in the moment. The emotion felt is besides the point - anger, happiness, sadness, pain, confusion, frustration, love - whatever it is, it doesn't matter. The point is that I am finally letting myself feel everything. That's when you know you are really alive, in my opinion... when you know you've earned your space in this World... when you can actually stop and feel yourself living every possible emotion Life throws at you. Not letting feeling my most horrific life experiences when they happened is what led to my last suicide attempt (my ninth or tenth overdose, I can't even remember anymore, there's been so many)... this one landing me in the ER.

That's what happens when you experience Life to the black, hollow depths of rape and abuse. You shut yourself down emotionally to survive mentally until you've been shut down for so long that you can't function anymore... long enough to see suicide as a step up instead of a step underground.

The things that bother me about this new relationship are things that can get better over time... if we actually stuck to our words and spent more time together. We always talk about how we want to hang out more, but it never happens. It's all talk, and I'm honestly realizing that I really don't know him well enough to keep trusting what he says. So I'm just over it. He'll say some nice little things here and there that temporarily make me push my relationship question marks aside, but in the end, when he says/does something that makes me question why I'm really pursuing this relationship, I'm back to my, "I should know better..." thought.

I've been through enough at this point... [clarification] I've survived enough in my life to know what I want... and who I want. I think we dated before, but I can't know for sure... still think about him from time to time, though... I suppose if it's meant to be, we'll find each other again. But for now, given all the recent drama I've had with all kinds of friends and boys, I think I just need time to let some nagging, bad-relationship vibes die so I can finally rebuild better, healthier ones.

That's all I can trust for now... just this invisible force that is pushing me to trust myself more than anyone else, especially a new guy that wants a relationship only when it's convenient for him... that's the exact opposite of a relationship. So it's done... I'm over it. And I feel much better... back to myself... and a little relieved, to be completely honest... relieved that I had enough faith and trust in myself to do the right thing for me, not for him.

Know When to Say When

It's definitely been a while since I've written... Life's been nuts since my last post, as you can imagine. As soon as I feel like things are getting better, something happens to spin me around again. The hardest thing about being a survivor, at this point in my life - 11 years since my first rape, eight months since I was raped again - is that no matter what, I feel like I'm still not accepted for who I am, inside and out. No matter how hard I try, I'm always doing something wrong, and blamed for this or that in the end... always leading to another damaged relationship. It feels like the ones I've trusted the most are the ones who end up hurting the most with their judgements and opinions regarding how I act, who I am, and the paths I choose in my life.

I've always handed others the benefit of the doubt, especially close friends, because in my book, the little shit doesn't matter if you're really that close and loyal. You don't judge the ones who mean the most to you. You support their choices, although you'd choose differently. I understand it's not my right to get down on others for living their lives the way they see fit, simply because I don't know what it's like to walk in their shoes... we all walk different paths, come from different backgrounds & upbringings... have different fears, hopes, dreams, anxieties... there are simply way too many factors involved that stare at you to accept what is, not to judge what is not.

I'm just sick and tired of feeling like I can't trust anyone anymore. If I share what is personal and important to me, I am judged and treated like a broken little kid for not healing in the ways they see fit. If I don't share these things, then I'm shutting people out and then that becomes an issue. Regardless, no matter what I say or do, there is always an issue that is created out of nothing... I feel like I'm becoming the target of so many people's insecurities and differences. I've run out of patience and am rapidly losing faith in people in general.

I don't know who I can trust because the minute I do, it feels like I just get stabbed in the back again. I don't understand how people, if they are really your friend, and if they really, truly care about you, can say such hurtful things like - I should just be friends with actual victims... I'm punishing them for living "normal" lives... what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

I'm beyond disgusted with the mentality of ignorant people, and even more disgusted that I've made such poor choices in who I thought I could trust. They say keep your friends close, but your enemies closer... and it seems like everyone who I thought was a friend has shown their true colors...

I don't know if this is making much sense, but I'm finally realizing how sad and disappointed I really am about all these friendships going wrong. I can't imagine using the most hurtful things about a person's life against them. I don't do that. I don't throw other's hurtful experiences in their face in a negative way to prove my own selfish point of view. I just don't understand it.

And I've been put in really bad situations at work lately, too. I've gotten yelled at by a few of my male co-workers for things that are their fault - one of them yelling his apology at me after realizing he was in the wrong, accusing me of fucking with his job - not appreciating that I'm going out of my way, above and beyond of what is my job to ensure all aspects of our project are running smooth for everyone involved, especially because some of their jobs have been threatened because they've fucked up. Another one yelling at me last week, threatening me that I haven't heard him yell yet, if I think he's yelling now - saying he's tired of everyone complaining and blah blah blah... when all I was doing was discussing how to better streamline orders, etc to reduce cost, especially because I am continuously asked why so much money is being spent on this or that, or why this person is making so many trips in one day to pick this up.

And then my boss yelled at me few weeks ago saying that I was controlling and didn't want to delegate things, simply because it's a control issue. Are you fucking kidding me? I'm running the office solo for a three year billion dollar project that is slated for final completion in six weeks. And when I asked to hire an assistant a year ago (when my last assistant moved away), I was told I couldn't hire anyone else, that I could handle it on my own. So at that time, I came to the conclusion that I HAD to find a way to just make it all work out somehow, by myself, no assistants, no help, nothing. And every time I entertained the thought of hiring another assistant, I knew I couldn't handle another year of potentials coming and going, considering the time it takes to interview, train, etc. only to have them leave just as soon I've invested half my time training... I just didn't have the time to do it... it was going to be much to take on at this late in the project... It all started when my co-worker (his status is just below my boss, but after my boss relocates soon, he will be my direct supervisor) wanted me to employ his wife in the office. This was a definite no for me - she hates me. She never talks to me, avoids me at company functions, is cold and uninviting whenever I'm around... why the fuck would I want her to be my assistant and more than that, do you really think she would accept me being her boss if she still doesn't like me after three years? There is no way it would work. So because of that, I don't want to delegate and am controlling. That's the biggest load of bullshit I've heard, considering my entire life has been about being put in situations that are without control... I lost a lot of respect for my boss after that conversation. In fact, I've lost respect for many people in my life lately, not just co-workers, but close friends who just disgust me now.

I know I can handle whatever is thrown at me, and I've had a lot of shit thrown at me in my life... but when is enough really enough? When do you draw the line from letting things slide off your back to walking away to preserve your sanity? What do you do when you are in a prime career position to make big moves for your future, yet you feel like you keep getting beat down time after time? What happens when you go out of your way to support your friends only to realize they were never a real friend to begin with?

All of these little things have been so frequent the past few years that they are piling up to an overwhelming internal confusing mess. I have never been this disgusted with the people in my life as I have been the past few months. On top of all this, I've been dating someone for a while now, someone I know I want to spend the rest of my life with... except I can't seem to trust him because of how much I've been hurt by the ones I thought I could trust. I know experiencing all kinds of relationships and knowing all kinds of people is a part of our Life's DNA... I just don't know what to do with it all right now. I just want it to get out of my life - all the bullshit, the drama, the assholes, the bitches...

Again, I have no idea what the hell I'm writing about... which is most likely evidence of how frustrated and confused I am with all these situations I keep getting thrown in. I feel like my communication skills have been challenged to the max lately, but again... when do you give up the fight for understanding & acceptance and just walk away from something/someone you've worked so hard for, only to see that, in the end, you were working all alone?

I've been a crying mess lately. The only one who made me feel whole again - my grandmother - is no longer alive, and I'm missing her now more than ever. She would be so happy to know that I've met someone I want to spend the rest of my life with, and she would say exactly what I need to hear in order to put things back in perspective... she would help me understand and wash it away to focus on the here and now. She would tell me how to let the hurt go. I've just been feeling really defeated lately... like I've been emotionally & mentally beat down so many times recently, one punch after another, that I've just given up on everyone.

Okay, rambling done.

Keep Thinking About...

... the fact that I was raped again.

Can't get it out of my head...

The nightmares have started again, but not as bad as before... they're just back... minimal, but still there... been sleeping with my tv on for weeks now. Since a best friend was assaulted just a few blocks from where I live.

He's believed to be a local serial rapist.

Can't believe she got away. I'm too tired to tell you her story right now, or even mine just yet.

Just needed to get it out that... I feel... numb all over again...

I drown myself in my work during the week, and spend as much time with friends as possible during the weekends.

I've been reading over this site a lot lately... can't believe how much different I am now from even a year ago... reading over all this shit... glad I purged it, glad it's gone, over with. Done. I needed my ER trip to be where I'm at today... I needed my second rape to provide that last morsel of firing motivation to do something - had to get out of my own way, even if it meant being raped again.

I don't really understand how to feel about life these days, so I gave up trying to understand it.

Just living it now.

Just living.

Fighting the fight.

Nothing surprises me anymore... Nothing.

I've been through hell and back.

"If you're going through hell, keep going."

My relationship is getting better with my parents, but I still miss my Grandmother like crazy. She's the only one that made everything better again. She's the only one I want to see right now.

I can't let myself be alone with my thoughts for too long these days... they become too heavy to process sometimes... not overwhelming, just confusing.

Draining.

Raped again... by a friend. "I take full responsibility," he said. I don't know what I'll do when I see him in town again. He lives here... I saw him exactly one week after my friend was assaulted... I freaked out.

I FREAKED out. I was shaking, angry... more than angry... sad, pained... shaking... uncontrollable shaking from overwhelming, roller-coasting emotions... feeling him on top of me, yelling at him to stop... freaking out all over again... unable to get those few precious moments out of my head... I knew I would, eventually, see him around again, but I had NO idea I would react that way - I couldn't control it. I was in full blown FREAK OUT mode. I still have the text messages he sent me after seeing me - after I ignored him... can't erase them yet, for some reason. I read over these messages a lot. Not pouring salt in the wound. Just having a talk with my heart each time my eyes read over his words... trying to understand what I'm feeling, how I'm feeling... most of time, feeling nothing at all.

I ran into him in a coffee shop, a place I regularly visit every morning before work, sometimes more than once for a quick snack... never saw him there before, in all the years I've been going there... except I saw him one week after my girlfriend was assaulted by, who police believe, is a local serial rapist... what fucked up timing.

I wanted to throw everything off the shelves... make a scene... throw bottles agains the walls, breaking everything I saw... watching it all shatter into little pebbles of glass swirling around like a tornado... in slow motion... slow motion just like when Jay raped me... not feeling anything at all, just praying for it to be over... praying that, when I closed my eyes and opened them again, it would all just be a bad dream... but it wasn't a bad dream, it was my silent reality... and it happened again. My internal volcano erupted when I saw him standing there... he knew what he did. Just like Jay knew. Maybe he knew Jay. Maybe they talked... maybe...

I wanted to tackle him... I felt a pack of wolves next to me... walking slowly with me, my bodyguards... as I approached him... I had to pass by him to get my coffee - he was standing in the doorway... I saw... I felt... this pack of wolves walking next to me, drueling at the taste of his blood... eating him alive... I wanted to rip his insides out with my bare hands, leaving him naked... open... exposed... just like how he left me... until he slowly died... until the wolves ate him alive, evaporating him from this world forever...

Just like Jay.

I don't know what to really do anymore, except just live each day to its fullest, being grateful for what I have, resting my head each night, thanking God that I will wake up to see tomorrow, wishing for tomorrow to be the day I don't remember my rapes.

Rapes - plural.

Raped on my birthday the first time around... and then again - eleven years later... just one week before my birthday - the anniversary of my first rape...

Can you believe it?

Yes, I can.

Reality is when it happens to you.

So what do I do now? Just live. That's all I can do...

Just Live.

Goodnight :) My heart's especially tired today...

I Chose Him

I sent this email to a dear friend of mine. I'm posting it here because as I began my reply to her, my writing took off on its own, telling her about my second rape. She cares for sick and elderly people. One of the residents at her facility is a 3x sex offender, has Hodgkin's Disease, and has touched her inappropriately. I adore her. We have an incredible connection based solely on what we've survived, always being there for one another, helping each other through our "crazy" phases, always reassuring the other that we are OKAY... having the utmost faith in one another... in our continued survival, amazing strength and beautiful lives...

January 24, 2008 - 10:59 pm

Holy shit, seriously??!! Damn, this IS a huge fucking test. Sucks... Life has a cruel sense of humor sometimes...

If I was in your shoes, in the same situation, doing that line of work, working with this person, having been through everything I've been through, and being so much bigger, better and stronger in the end - here and now, after it all... having survived every single fucked up thing I've experienced, and you've experienced... I would KNOW that I could handle this, too. Here's a story...

I was raped again in November. Just writing that right now makes me cry. Tears trying to push out of my tired eyes, but I won't let them. Not anymore. Because I'm not sad. I'm mad. And I'm strong. FUCK, I'm strong... can't believe everything I've survived... and everything I continue to survive...

Something hit me the other day... something about this guy, a friend, who raped me... something about the way he acted, the things he said, made me feel weird. But not in a scared way, in a "How many screws are loose in your head?" kind of way. Knowing that something just wasn't right with him... But still... I moved forward, tested the waters... invited him over one drunken night... and... well, you know. I was freaking out. Couldn't believe this could be happening all over again, JUST when I get my life back... what fucked up timing, right? It happened on November 10th, exactly one week before my birthday - which also marked the anniversary of my first rape...

So, now I've survived two rapes, among other things. And then I see him in town. Confronted him. His answer: I take full responsibility... just before he freaked out and denied everything, back peddling all the ways he was right and I was wrong...

And then something clicked... I see a therapist, but not all the time. It's very random - no rhyme or reason to when I see her... I see her when things are good, confusing, bad or just plain whatever... just to check in... talking to her helps me reconnect with a piece of myself... and she asked me a few days ago (I called her for an appt the day I ran into him)... knowing what I know now, having been through everything I have been through with my first rape, and having spent so many years and so much time resolving that part of my life within my heart and soul, knowing - feeling it in my gut - feeling something that just made me stop and think about this guy - what was in me that still allowed myself to not trust that gut feeling? What made me question my own gut?

And I realized she was right... all of his sexual comments, graphic innuendos, etc... it was weird, but I honestly didn't let it phase me... I just chalked him up to being a complete idiot. But... I realized that... as crazy and insane as this may sound... as much as it seems like this world threw yet another wrench in my life... that he didn't chose me... I CHOSE HIM.

Something changed inside of me when I saw him exactly one week ago. Something shifted inside of me. I confronted him, telling him that when you are fucking a girl and she is underneath you, freaking out, trying to push you off of her, it's NOT sex. It's rape... but I chose him. He didn't chose me... I chose him. Somehow, subconsciously knowing deep down that he may very well be capable of this kind of thing, but out of sheer cowardliness and nothing more. I can't explain it, but as shitty as this second rape was, being more scary than my first... I chose him to rape me... not that I chose to be raped again, but... there is something very strange about this entire situation, something very fitting if I look at the big picture of my life... I am not scared of him. I am fired up. I am livid. Angry. Fed up that this sort of thing happens. Whatever little piece I was missing to be one whole person again, he gave that to me. No. I take that back. I took it back from him, the rapist, the violator, the offender. He doesn't know it, but he didn't take anything from me... he gave me exactly what I was missing: the motivation to live my life as one, whole, complete person fighting the fight to the death.

My rambling has a point... try to not be scared of him, as scary as the situation is. It is our history which causes us to act and react in certain situations, especially when they are involving the ones who hurt us the most... those people who hurt us so bad that we know we will never be the same person. And that's just it - you're not the same person that was hurt long ago... you are SOOO much bigger, better and stronger than you know... look at all you've survived thus far... look at your beautiful boys...

Don't let him scare you. He is a coward, now looking to you to help take care of him when he did nothing but hurt others. Instead, study him. Learn from him. TAKE from him as he's taken from everyone else, but I don't mean that in a physical or malicious way... take knowledge from him. Watch him. Talk to him silently... saying the things you always wanted to say but never had the chance back then... this is your chance to confront what you thought you didn't need to confront... the world is giving you an incredible opportunity to get back what you never knew you lost... this incredible little morsel of your heart you never existed, until you befriended your enemy, and let the world make sense all over again. Be strong. Don't be afraid to tell him to NOT touch you. You have that right. It is your birthright... to say no, to tell others what makes you uncomfortable... despite their condition... You are human. Everything you feel is valid. You don't owe anyone anything. And if you chose to not work this patient, then it's okay. He is not deserving of your care anyway. You can only do your very best, and that is all this life is about.

God, I hope all that rambling made some sort of sense... love you lots.. hope this helps... please don't hesitate to send me an email anytime... I'm always here! xoxo

When Fretting Is In Your DNA: Overcoming the Worry Gene

Wall Street Journal, 01/15/08 Page D1

Worry warts often believe they inherited their tendency to stew from their parents. Biology does play a role, research suggests, but there are things you can do to break the cycle of agonizing.

Researchers at Yale have identified a gene mutation for "rumination" -- the kind of chronic worry in which people obsess over negative thoughts. It's a variation of a gene known as BDNF that's active in the hippocampus, an area of the brain involved in thinking and memory. In a study of 200 mothers and daughters published in the journal Neuroscience Letters last month, the Yale scientists found that those who had been depressed in their youth were more likely to be ruminators and to have this particular variation of BDNF.

The discovery adds to a growing body of evidence that depression involves an inability to control negative thoughts, not just excess emotion, says psychologist Susan Nolen-Hoeksema, one of the Yale investigators. And just because rumination has genetic roots doesn't mean it's inescapable, she says. "People can learn to stop these thought processes and have better emotional health."
Some successful professionals find that worry works for them. Imagining everything that might go wrong, and preparing for it, is known as "defensive pessimism."

"I spend all day thinking of ways to gain an advantage over my adversaries, and I assume they're doing the same thing," says Victor Bushell, a partner at Bushell, Sovak, Ozer & Gulmi LLP. "If that was your job description, wouldn't you be worried?"

Other people use worry as a kind of magical shield -- if they worry that the plane will crash, it won't. It doesn't, ergo, they have to worry on every flight.

Worrying also seems to be part of some people's personalities. "I've been furrowing my forehead forever -- you could pick me out in kindergarten," says Pam Abramson Grisman, who runs a custom-writing business in Mill Valley, Calif. "These days, I worry about my parenting. Prior to that, it was focused completely on the workplace. Prior to that, it was, 'Am I cool enough to live?' "

But worrying is wearying, she says: "It's like chronic pain, and ultimately it doesn't shield you anymore. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Then you have a heart attack."

Chronic worry can, in fact, lead to a variety of health issues, including headaches, gastrointestinal problems, high blood pressure, anxiety and depression, studies have shown. Rumination, which focuses more on past events than future what-ifs, has also been linked to binge eating, binge-drinking and self-harm. Ruminators may be subconsciously trying to stop their harmful thoughts, says Dr. Nolen-Hoeksema. "Disengaging is really, really hard -- you see that in their neural activity and in their behavior," she adds. But studies have shown that doing something distracting for just 10 minutes can break the cycle and help people tackle problems more effectively.

Techniques from cognitive-behavioral therapy can also help worriers stop the kind of thinking that just makes them miserable.

"It's all about finding the balance between productive and unproductive worrying," says psychologist Robert L. Leahy, director of the American Institute for Cognitive Therapy in New York City. "Say to yourself, 'Is this worry leading to a To Do list?' If it doesn't lead to some action on your part today, set it aside."

He suggests literally reserving 20 minutes a day to worry. If you can postpone worrying, you are exercising control over it, rather than letting it control you.

And learn to accept some risks. "Worriers feel a tremendous intolerance for uncertainty. They get the idea that worrying can eliminate it. But you can't prepare for everything," Dr. Leahy adds. He also suggests a simple "exposure" technique: Practice saying or writing whatever you fear most, such as, "the plane is going to crash" or "I'm going to lose my job." "Repeat it over and over again slowly, like a zombie, and the fear will begin to subside," he says. Eventually, "you'll just get bored with it."

Do you think...

... that everything that happens in our lives is fated to be a part of our life's blueprint? Or do we, somehow, based on the choices we make over time, fall into certain situations and experiences? In other words... do you think we somehow, subconsciously, choose the experiences we go through?

It keeps replaying in my head: "...I don't know what to say. It just seems like such horrible luck..." The truth is, no one knows what to say when unexplainable & unfair things happen. Only when good things happen do we talk about our lives. Wait. That's besides the point. "Horrible luck." I don't know if Life is based on good or bad luck... it's not horrible luck, it's just reality... Life... shit that goes down, shit no one talks about because it IS a horrible, defeating task to discuss the heavy stuff... the shit that almost killed you... the shit that was/is so unbearable to live with that you sometimes WISH it killed you...

I'm trying to understand what the point of everything is right now. What's the point of all this "horrible luck"?? What's the point of being so young and experiencing so much shit? Well... being bigger, better & stronger than most out there is a huge advantage... but does one, single, tiny little person have to constantly be tested in order to earn her god damn courage badge?

I don't get it. I do... but I don't. This past week has been fucking crazy. And today was one of the craziest days of my life. I just don't understand what's going on sometimes... I mean, come on... seriously?? Does Life really have this cruel of a sense of humor?

I'm curious... thinking aloud... confused... can't sleep... the day's events replaying in my head...

Rape.
Rape.
Rape.

Can't believe my life is what it is.

Really? Again? You're putting me through all this again? I don't understand why. And with what happenend on Friday night... this is just plain ridiculous. I thought I had that situation under control, chalking it up to... convincing myself that it was all in my head, just like last time. But no. Why would I knowingly avoid something that took me to ten years to accept the first time around? Haven't I learned anything? What kind of advocate would I be if I did not handle this right away?

Friday's events are a huge slap in my face. "Take care of your shit, Missing Link. Handle it right this time. Do something. Fear is unforgiving." Be grateful she is okay, alive and well. Be grateful he is not on the streets. Be grateful he admitted what he did today. Be grateful for: "I take full responsbility." Just before he turned around and denied everything. My last words: "You fucked up real bad. Leave me alone for good. Go to hell."

RAPE.

Just seeing that word cuts my insides to shreds. Saying it sends a knife piercing through my heart. SEXUAL ASSAULT is softer, smoother... it rolls of the tongue a little easier... it's Rape, only sugarcoated.

Open your eyes. Talk. Share. Discuss. Educate. Prevent. Survive.

I cannot, for the life of me, understand WHY this issue is still so hush-hush. I can't understand. I never will. I don't want to. I just want it to stop. All of it. Forever. It's impossible, I know. This is the one thing I do know for sure... to rid this world of all crime is humanly impossible, but fuck you, I'm going to try. And so should you.

I'm drifting off into crazyland confusion now... unsure how I really feel about much these days... only knowing the handful of good souls I know I can trust. The rest? Well, the rest... it's all a god damn, fucked up crapshoot.

The game's the same, it's the rules that've changed. And rules were meant to be broken.

Raped Again...

Needed to get this out, but will share more later... when I have the time and headspace...

I was raped again in November. And a dear, close friend of mine was assaulted (she fought him off, thank God), on January 12, 2008 at 2:00 am.

Unsure how I feel about everything right now... trying to drown myself in work in the meantime, but... believe me, I am FIRED UP to make a fucking difference in this FUCKED UP and UNFAIR world.

I'm okay, and so is my friend... life is just a bit of a roller coaster again... one day at a time... one step at a time...

I hope all my readers are doing well :)

I will share more as soon as my heart allows...

Much Love

Wow

Can't believe it's been so long since I've written. Life's been really busy, and really great. I'm not as "dedicated" to this site as I was when I started it. Dating, partying, vacations, weddings, babies, etc. etc... all the usual life stuff keeps happening.

My life has done a total 180 since Sept 06 - the ER shit. I still think about that all the time, like my rape. I think about all that stuff constantly, but it doesn't run my life anymore like it once did.

Although I haven't been writing here much since the ER trip last year (or writing at all since then, for that matter), I've still been receiving nice, comforting comment from parents looking for support & understanding because their daughter was just raped. Or from other survivors who are looking for some of their own inner peace. And every time I receive one of these comments, the world makes sense again... it makes all my enraged anger, silent pain & draining confusion worth every second - these rattled thoughts and emotions about my life thus far has, without a doubt, helped at least one person out there to not feel alone. More than one person, I know... but even if the retreat center, non-profit & fundraisers never happen... even if I spend the next sixty years trying to land a lucrative book deal, it doesn't matter. Because this is helping others survive. That's all I want to do. Help others finish today so they can see tomorrow. One step at a time. No matter who tries to hurt us.

Goodnight, and Happy Halloween!

Deadly

I had a really bad nightmare last night. Woke myself up crying.

I was at this lake my friends and I used to go to every Memorial Day weekend. The setup was kind of weird... a very green and grassy park-like area where many people were just hanging out, and then to the get to the beach where our boat was, you had to walk through a small wooded area. I was in the park area for a while, and noticed one of the guys from my work was there. I noticed another guy nearby. He smiled at me, I smiled back, and then figured I should be heading to the boat to meet up with my friends. I was a little weary of walking through this wooded area, but it was daylight, and plenty of people at the park, and then next door at the beach. When I began approaching "the woods," I noticed a a sketchy younger man waiting at the entrance to this small and secluded area. He was staring at me, and had this weird, uncomfortable smirk on his face. I started approaching the woods, reassuring myself the beach was right there. But the closer I got, the more uncomfortable I became. I pretended like I forgot something and turned around.

He asked where I was going. I told him I had to turn around.

"Because you knew I was waiting for you."

"Yeah. Because you were staring at me." I was walking backwards so I could see his face. I didn't want to turn my back to him. He started approaching me with his dirty smirk, like he was secretly telling me he was going to get what he wanted, even if I didn't pass through the woods.

My heart started beating faster as he started walking faster towards me. I tried to act like I wasn't scared, but I knew what was going to happen. All I could think was, "Please, not again. Please, not again..."

I stumbled a bit and fell to the ground. I knew this was his chance. He attacked me, on top of me. I couldn't move around very much because of the awkward position I stumbled down in. He was holding both my wrists with his hands, just smirking while watching me squirm, trying to get away... like he enjoyed watching me fight. I yelled for the guy I knew, Alan. But he wasn't there. I kept yelling for him, but he was gone... I don't know where he went. I couldn't believe this was happening in broad daylight, in front of all these people, in an open park.

The guy who smiled at me earlier came to my rescue. He pulled him off of me. They fought for a long time. I was laying there, on the ground, in shock of what just almost happened again, and what was happening now... and I saw a glimpse of a knife while they were fighting/wrestling. I was silently freaking out. I felt like I was in a movie. My clothes and hair was a mess, tears were running down my face, exhausted... drained... and just then... I watched my rescuer stab my attacker to death.

Next, there were a few cops standing around my dead attacker. They were feverishly taking notes. There was caution tape blocking off "the scene of the crime". People were staring and watching. They called my rescuer over to ask him a few questions. I was standing from afar, just staring at the entire thing... watching everything... numb. Incredibly, horribly, drained and numb. The cops motioned for me to come over. I took a step. And with my second step, I fell to the ground, sobbing so uncontrollably that I couldn't breathe...

I'm starting to cry now... and I don't know why...

Anyhow... I fell to the ground with this overwhelming, suffocating emotion of being attacked again, and then watching him stabbed to death. I could see his motionless legs on the ground, but the cops were standing in the way for me to see his upper body. I couldn't stop crying, just staring at his body in the distance... unable to keep my head up from all of my sobbing, and letting myself fall entirely to the ground with the weight of my tears.

I had never felt so alone and cold in my life.

And then I woke up crying. I immediately turned on the tv and desperately wished he was here... the one who doesn't want to be with me. The one who "didn't mean to lead me on"... the one who "felt something in the beginning. But things change and feelings change. That's just reality."

Fuck you.

Fuck my attacker.

Fuck my rapist.

Just fuck it all.

I'm too afraid to go to sleep tonight. I don't want to admit this. But it's the truth. I hate waking up alone. I hate this constant nagging feeling that I'm not enough... this horrible, thick, draining feeling that I will never be enough, and my past experiences have created this fucked up girl... this girl that is too complex to understand and deal with.

I don't know what else to say. I don't want to miss him in the all the ways I sometimes do. It's bullshit. Never anything in the first place. Just sex. Just random, casual sex... like all the other girls he was sleeping with.

That's all they've ever wanted from me.
The men in my life.
Just sex.

I don't understand what else there is anymore.

I don't think I've ever been this jaded and numb to the reality of my life as I am today. Especially after last night's nightmare.

Even using the word "numb" is too colorful anymore.

I'm not being negative or pessimistic.

I'm being honest.

I welcome you to express another opinion or point of view, but beware of me politely and discreetly flipping you off.

FYI

No more drinking and writing. It does help sometimes to get the hard stuff out, especially when the memories/flashbacks get bad at night. And I've been drinking every night this past week to help me sleep (in all honesty) because the nightmares have been crazy. But I can't be relying on a few drinks to write anymore. I'm done with that part of my "creative process."

This weekend has been relaxing. Been having one of my "Missing Link" weekends, the kind where I pretty much ignore everyone and everything, and do whatever the hell I want. I've been having one of those lives, actually! It's unusually warm here this weekend, so I'm anxious for my first beach trip this year. And every Sunday, local artists set up little spots all along the beach/harbor to sell their handmade things. It's actually very cool. I love that about this town. All of the creativity that just kind of oozes around here. I know sooo many writers, artists, publishers, agents, actors, actresses, songwriters, etc. etc. I must admit that I am extremely lucky to be able to afford my own place in this town. Although I do sometimes get a little bored with having all my good friends live far away. And now, I have this horrible feeling my best friend might be moving across the country! I don't want her to go, but I also know she's been needing a big change for a while, like me. She's taking a trip out there to visit one of her best friends (who I adore, too), and I have a feeling she's gonna check out jobs and places to live with her! It's scary to have my only sanity leave me but that just means I get to fly out there to visit them both.

Anyhow, just needed to remind myself to NOT drink anymore while writing. I drink a little too much sometimes when I'm on a roll with my writing (like last night) and I hate waking up the next morning and having last night be a little bit of a blur!

And I kind of realize this morning that my life is just where it needs to be. I do miss certain people and relationships, but life just continues to evolve as we do. If all the relationships in my life stayed the same, I'd be worried. Our relationship are meant to change because WE are never the same people, either. If we, as people, are constantly evolving, it's only natural for our relationships, hopes, dreams, wishes, wants and needs to do the same.

I have to admit I wish he wanted our friendship to evolve into something more as we continued to evolve within our own lives. I didn't realize that's maybe how I wanted our friendship to change and grow until almost two years after knowing him. He never saw me in that way, I think. He was just in it for the sex. That's all he wanted, I think... I think the only reason it worked for him was because the sex was pretty great. You can imagine how that started to confuse me... especially at a time when I'm finally admitting, confronting, accepting and integrating my rape and childhood experiences into the rest of my life.

I miss how fun and easy it was. And of course, I miss the sex just because he was the best I had ever had... but that doesn't mean I won't have great sex again with someone else who is that patient and slow with me.

If you're reading this, I'm over it. I admit I will think about you from time to time and wonder what the hell happened, and why you don't want to be with me "in that way" after I thought I was doing the right thing the entire time... just going with the flow and not really thinking about much else, except getting through my personal shit the best I can and having fun with you whenever I could... but shit happens, and change is the only constant.

Cheers to all these changes to (slowly but surely) better my life, process my rape, and accept myself just as I am.

Don't Believe...

... everything you read.

I just read a few of my old post and hate that I have all this shit internalized so deep down.

I hate it.

I just have to deal with it.

I can't understand why some days are easier than others, but I guess that's just the name of the game no matter who you are or what your life experiences are.

I don't know if starting my new blog really matters, or if I should I should commit to my daily report on this blog.

That seems much easier. Why complicate things when they are good just as they are?

Anyway, figuring out all this new template shit is annoying! It's a decision made more out of convenience than anything else.

On a sidenote, I've been drinking and writing all night again :) And I even concocted a tasty dinner in the middle of a writer's block. And I don't even really cook! But I was feeling pretty creative tonight, I guess. It was good and healthy, if I don't say so myself.

Don't worry, JIP... I've been trying to keep my health in order. I still have some other health issues I've been avoiding, but I promise you I'll make the call and take care of it when I'm ready. I've had these horrible bruises along both sides of my spine for almost a year now. They are right where my lungs are. They're positioned really strangely, too. In a perfect linear position going up and down both sides of my spine, equal in size, equal in distance from one bruise to the next. I feel like I've been abducted by aliens and these bruises are their "tracking device"! Obviously, I know that isn't true, but even now, this portion of my back, where this bruised cluster lives, is getting sore and uncomfortable. I have no idea what it is. I wasn't in any kind of severe accident to trigger or initiate this strange series of bruising along my spine. I've been recommended to specialists to figure it out, but I just don't have the headspace to pursue this right now... especially because I'm beginning to get a little freaked out that it could be something serious. And especially since these bruises have been present for almost a year now... AND especially since the area of the bruising just gets more and more uncomfortable as time goes on.

I know... I have to call these specialists right away and sort out what's going on. I'm just afraid of dealing with any more drama in my life anymore. But I know this is my health and I MUST prioritize and get it sorted out asap. I just hate bad news... and I'm really afraid it's not going to be good news at all.

... I think I've realized the other blog is unncessary. It's pretty much the exact same thing as this blog anyway, except with a different title. I may cancel it soon. So much for sticking with it! Oh well... it's just me trying to make the change.

I wish I had a boyfriend to massage my back right now. It's been especially painful this past week... not to forget the nightmares on top of the physical pain. Combine that with all the insane writing confusion of how to openly acknowledge/accept my rape and I'm about as drained as a girl can get these days.

I still miss him, though. But I don't know if I miss the idea of him, or him as a real, honest, safe person in my life. I guess I'll never know the answer to that one. I don't even care right now, to be honest. I've taken so much pain medication for my back this week, and running on no sleep, that I'm just ready for my hot shower and comfortable down-feathered bed.

Goodnight :) And if anyone out there knows what the fuck this bruising is all about, PLEASE let me know. It's so strange. I wish I could photograph this bruising (still in tact for almost a year, no change in appearance) and post it, but we know I'm not going to do that. The bruises are the exact same size, and align both sides of my spine identically... same width, same distance apart, same coloring... And yes, it is uncomfortable half of the time, like now.

I hate medication. I just want to feel physically healthy for once in my life. And that will contribute to my mental/emotional health being. Once I get the MRI done on my knee, and get that surgery, I'll be able to run again, too. Until then, it's the gym and swimming for as long as my body can handle it... and when even that is uncomfortable (like this past week), it's resting my body as much as possible.

Maybe all of my internal bruising is beginning to show externally... I have to call those doctors, dammit. I hope it's nothing serious...

Work is Work

For the most part, I love my job. Except it does get pretty tricky being the only girl there, running that fucking office... feeling like everyone's damn mom because they just don't get their shit right. But that's what I'm getting paid for, right? The schedules and deadlines definitely contribute to all the stress. But that's just the nature of this industry. I signed on for this... job security. There are projects slated with this client for the next 15 years. And she's been wanting to hire me out of my company for a year now. I can't say enough that I feel like I just need to be patient to see what will happen with that. In the meantime, I have my debt to pay off, and my writing to pursue. Those are my goals right now. And I'm doing very well with both.

Except today, I snapped a little again. I know why I do it. I know it just stresses me out to constantly feel like I have to remind these guys over and over again with this stupid shit... this stupid shit that I should NOT have to remind them of because we are all fucking adults. I'm the youngest one working there... and the only girl. I get teased a lot, and I don't mind it because I know it's all in good fun. Except sometimes, it just gets under my skin to not be treated like a normal woman who should be respected and treated like one of them. Just because I'm not a male construction worker doesn't mean they should treat me with any less respect or maturity. It just gets frustrating sometimes. And it gets most frustrating/confusing when I have nights and weekends like this week... nightmares every night. And last night was especially scary. There is always something chasing or attacking me. And more often than not, if it's people, they are faceless. Sometimes I'm being chased and attacked by animals, too. But ALWAYS, in every nightmare, I can't scream or move to cry for help. No matter how hard I try, I'm frozen, stunned and scared in my nightmares. I try with all my strength to muster any kind of sound so someone can hear my cries for help. Except nothing comes out. Meanwhile, my attacker slowly gets closer and closer. I often wake myself up screaming or crying. I'm always drenched in sweat. The other night I woke up with sweat pouring down my face. Like I just walked out of the shower. My body was so drained and heavy. It took so much energy to turn around, turn on the tv for noise and light, and open my window for fresh air. I started to cry a little because I hated that I was alone.

I wish I had a boyfriend sleeping next to me during nights like this.

I snapped at work because I've had, literally, no sleep all week due to these nightmares. I'm pretty much running on empty by the time Friday rolls around. And I don't want medication so going through all of this alone and natural is even tougher than I imagined. But I need to feel all this naturally. Once and for all.

I just talked to an old friend of mine for over an hour. She's still in the middle of her divorce, but at least they're on speaking terms now, which helps the divorce details go smoother. She was also raped. And she's been there for me since I moved back to this place. We kind of just get each other's craziness because we've both had really fucked up childhoods, been through horrible experiences, like rape, as young women, escaped to hard drugs, alcohol, promiscuity & suicide attempts... she's an incredible friend, and she always has a way of making me feel more normal again. I don't have many real friends I can say that about. Just a handful of them exist in my life. A lot of time may go by where we don't talk or see each other, but when we do talk again, we talk forever, catch up and just "get" each other.

I called our main office on the way home from work confirming if I was really going to be running this office solo for this client... It's all up to me, what I can and can't handle. I have more freedom with this position than I realize, I think. Except it's just hard to see that when you've had a number of sleepless, nightmare-filled nights like I have. I'm slowly recognizing that the more honest I am about my life and what I need to survive, the more respect and support I gain.

I just have to remember to not be afraid to let these guys know that I need them to pay better attention in doing their jobs because that helps me do mine.

Work shit aside, today was exhausting with emotional highs and lows. I've been having trouble finding that emotional middle ground. But I don't want medication so I just have to muscle it. And I can handle it. I can deal with it. If I dealt with my rape all by myself, in secret, for ten years, then I can deal with anything.

Aside from all of that, I've been thinking a lot about him... something about our friendship ending the way it did just doesn't sit right with me. But it's out of my hands. I don't believe he felt something only "in the beginning." I seriously, honestly, in my gut, believe that he felt something as deep, intimate and scary as I did on our last night together. That's why neither of us slept at all after we had sex... or at least that's what my gut believes. Because it felt so different than ever before... yet we weren't ready to communicate that to the other for whatever reason... although we did agree something did feel different. We just weren't sure what it was. I wanted to have another night with him to confirm what I was feeling... was it a good different or a bad different? Except that's exactly when he started to pull away from me. Just when I thought I knew I wanted to be with him, and no one else, he decided he was done. I can't say for certain, of cours, but I think he was tired of waiting around for me to decide what I wanted. And by then, he had already turned everything off. I don't understand why I keep thinking about it... I just miss him. I feel like I've lost this great friendship that went to shit for no reason. We got along great... it was always so fun to spend time with him, although I never had the chance to see him as much as I really wanted to... and if the sex was that great - the best I've ever had - then I just don't understand why this happened. I adored having him in my life. I don't understand our relationship and how it evolved into this nothingness... the sex was more than fantastic, and it was just so comfortable and safe to be with him. I just don't understand what happened.

Don't worry, though. I know this is it for us. And call me crazy, but you, too, know how great it was. I know you know. I just don't know why you started acting like I was this ugly mole on your face you couldn't wait to get rid of. Good riddance, huh? Hope you're happy. I just think all this really sucks is all. But I had to completely cut our contact because I couldn't just be your friend. I care about you way too much to just be your friend. And if that's alll you want from me, okay then. But I'm sorry... I think I feel something different. And I'm sorry if it took me too long to be certain of that, but look at what my life's been since early childhood. I have more than enough reason to act like I don't care... because then you can't hurt me. But in the end, I just ended up hurting myself somehow. And now we're not in each other's lives at all. It just doesn't make sense to me. Something about how this all ended just doesn't make sense to me. Just like my rape.

I just need to accept the way things are. Right here. Right now. I just have to accept my life and relationships as they are. And more than that, I MUST accept that there are some things I just will not understand. And even more than that, I must accept that there will be things in my life which I am just not meant to understand. They just are what they are. And my life experiences, good and bad, are all part of the big picture.

I miss him, but... I have to completely let him go because I really do care about him too much to pretend like I don't care that much at all.

Time for another beer...

Random

The more I openly acknowledge and accept my rape, and every other painful and hurtful experience in my childhood, the more I feel my two different versions merge into one whole person again. My invisible barrier between BR and AR (Before Rape and After Rape) is slowly becoming solid enough so that I can focus on the facts on my life. I need to see and feel this division within myself before I can begin tearing it down. Because the truth of the matter is, the only way anyone can ever accept anything as traumatic and life-altering as my experiences is to look them in the face, head on, in broad daylight, standing on stage, the world as their audience.

Okay then. Time to get another beer, and start my new blog. Hope it helps me to stay in the moment and focused on what matters most to me (family, friends, health, new beginnings, unexpected greatness...). Hope it helps you to, well... understand that just about every woman you see, every girl you know, WILL experience some kind of sexual abuse/assault in her lifetime. And more than that, I hope it helps you to see how internally damaging it is to one person's heart and soul, and that we do, literally, spend the rest of our lives surviving an experience that killed us.

I wish I could make it stop forever. I wish Rape NEVER existed. But the truth is, it will always exist. I don't understand why, and to just know that makes the healing a little more possible. To know that this world will always consist of horrible experiences and people, to recognize and accept this reality, to know that I will NEVER know why he raped me on my birthday... why my first kiss was waking up to his drunken, coarse tongue shoved down my throat... to understand that I will never know WHY I was raped at all is the first step in accepting my life's experiences for what they are... my life's experiences.

My rape is my life's most painful and hurtful experience.

But I can't erase it. And I won't kill him. So, I have to move on. And in order to submit my work for publication, I have to process all this confusion, anger and pain somehow, someplace, before it's cancer spreads fast and wide. So fast and wide that maybe next time, I won't be so lucky to wake up in the ER.

Thanks Readers...

I did go to a new T a few times after my hospital stunt, but something about sitting in a room & talking, talking, talking just doesn't feel right anymore. It doesn't help like it used to. It's uncomfortable, I'm agitated, and I feel like I just don't have anything to say anymore. Like I've exhausted that path for myself... the counseling/therapy path. I know that probably doesn't make any sense to you, considering the confession in my last post, and many people reading this are probably thinking that I'm avoiding the real issue. But... I don't know... it's not that I'm opposed to therapy again. And I have given it a chance. A few chances, actually, with this new guy. But it just doesn't seem to work for me anymore. I can't understand why. But that's just how my heart really feels. So I'm just taking it day by day...

Oh, I was "diagnosed" with all the usual stuff most of us (sexual abuse/rape survivors) experience... my T was not surprised at all by everything I was telling him. Disassociation, Severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Depression... the list goes on. He said we'd discuss medication during my next appointment, but I never booked it. I know I can call him anytime I feel like I need to talk, and that's really the most important thing for me, I think. To know that I DO have options.

But to be perfectly honest, I really don't want to be on any medication, although it's been suggested to me by all kinds of people for a long time. I've pursued this route during many occasions over the past few years, but something about it just doesn't sit right with me. I just feel like whatever I'm going through, whatever this process of accepting my rape is, I just need to feel it naturally. The highs and lows, the "crazy" feelings, the nervousness, the fear, the paranoia, the nightmares... I just want to let myself go through all this as naturally as I possibly can. I don't want to rely on some pill to get me through the day. I don't want to "mask" anything I'm feeling. I know it's hard, but I can do it. I've been doing it.

I do see a hypnotherapist whenever I feel like I need to get a few things off my chest, though. She was recommended to me through a very good friend/mentor a few years ago. I'm kind of a "special client." I mostly see her for regular therapy/sessions, and haven't actually tried the hypnosis part yet, although we do often talk about when I will be ready to try it. I guess I'm just a little scared of what kind of memories will pop up, and I'm just not ready for that. Yes, I'm definitely scared. I feel myself getting to that point, eventually... maybe in the next few months. I'm pretty sure I'll begin the hypnosis part this year...

There's something about her that I really trust. I pay her in installments, post-dating my checks, and she cashes them whenever I ask her to. She knows I'll pay her, and if I don't have the money to see her, but I'm having a hard time, she'll take me anyway, and I send payment when I'm able to. I'm not religious by any means, but pretty spiritual, I guess. I believe there is an energy greater than us which helps us get through very difficult periods in our lives, and the same energy rewards us to even everything out when the time is right. She's respects this and kind of caters to my situation, personality, characteristics & beliefs. She always helps me better understand my confusion. And I always feel like a huge weight has been lifted after I see her. THIS is my therapy. I call her whenever I need to. And she's always there. Sometimes I see her a few times a month. Sometimes I don't see her for a few months. It just depends how I'm doing. No real schedule. We just go with the flow of my life. I realized a long time ago that if this is what works for me, if this is what helps my heart heal, talking and ironing out my life's painful experiences with her, then why do I need to mess with it? If this is what works, then I don't want to change it.

Anyhow, a big thanks to my readers for being who you are, and just always being there for me in general. I love all of you, although this is an anonymous blogsite. I don't think I would've been able to accept anything about my life if it wasn't for this site. It was definitely very strange to receive feedback at the start of this blog... it was weird to know that my words were being read by actual people, and that there were so many more out there feeling everything I was feeling... feeling like they were all alone... like no one would understand, accept or love me because of everything that's happened to me.

The truth is, YOU understand, accept and love me BECAUSE of everything that's happened to me.

I don't where I'd be if it wasn't for all of you out there... you and this site mean more to my heart's healing than anything else in this world.

THIS IS THE REAL ME. And thank you for accepting me just the way I am.




I want to begin taking a different approach with this site now. I'm moving soon, and am so thrilled for my fresh start. I feel like this world has finally given me permission to move forward and wholeheartedly pursue my writing career. I am very much looking forward to a new environment to begin submitting my work for publication. This is huge for me. I've been living here for three years now... I feel like my life has been in this incredible transition/growing/acceptance period during that time. I've purposely isolated myself the past three years so I can, finally, go THROUGH whatever I needed to go through to get my life back on track. I've been pursuing this move off and on for the past year now, and for it to finally happen... I'm more than excited. I knew I just had to be patient. "It's just not time," I'd always remind myself everytime I became frustrated or agitated with my current situation. But now... this is good. This is very good.

I've also cut a few people out of my life. I just became so tired of feeling like I was being used for something other since sincere, genuine, honest friendship. I grew tired of those situations making me feel like shit. So I had to end them. At least for now. Or maybe forever. I don't know. That doesn't concern me... today concerns me. I can only worry about today, the here and now. I'm doing much better at learning how to do that.

I believe I needed my last suicide attempt (my ninth attempt, I think) to get my heart to this place. Something happened to me while I was in that room. I remember I still had those marks all over my body from all the wires and stickers they had to put on me to monitor different things. They didn't completely fade away for almost two weeks. It was like the world was reminding me that this was my last chance to live or die. Like the world purposely left these marks all over me to remind me of each and every painful experience I've been through... and to also respond to all my pain by, in it's own way, telling me that it, too, will fade away, just like these marks.

Wow. That just brought tears to my eyes.

I seriously can't believe the life I've lived thus far. I can't believe I've been through all shit in my young, twenty-eight years of precious life. I can't believe everything I've survived and witnessed. I can't believe how many times I've tried to kill myself. I can't believe how many times I almost died because of my hard partying habits. I can't believe I'm still alive. I can't believe I survived.

Emotionally Drained... Heal or Deal?

I think I just fucked up my relationship with my brother.

I don't know what happened. We haven't really been getting along this past year. He's my best friend in the entire world. We are very close, and I know I can talk to him about anything. But yesterday, I got really pissed off, telling him enough is enough and to not call me because I don't want to talk to him for a long time.

He was more than angry with my "attitude."

I was at work when all this happened. I had to step outside and fight my tears. I was shaking because I was so angry, and so hurt at what was happening... more angry and hurt at realizing that I can't have him in my life in the same capacity right now... however long that is. And I was so fucking mad at myself because I know the real reasons I've been getting so pissed off at him... It wasn't until I started this blog that I realized how much shit I've really been through. And while the things in the blog are NOT my entire life, they are all experiences that have affected me so much... never realizing it until seeing the words staring right back at me, years of bottled up emotion pouring out uncontrollably.

Back to my brother... I'm very angry with him for many things that happened in our childhood.

The hospital trip... the truth about what happened: I overdosed. And the cops and paramedics were at my house, wheeled me out to the ambulance, shitload of tests, in the ER all day and all night, and back home. I told everyone I didn't remember what happened, but I do.

I felt like I was in front of a firing squad. Like it was all of these horrible experiences ready to shoot me dead right then and there, and I couldn't breathe. I started crying uncontrollably, sobbing, unable to feel my body move... broken. And I started saying, while sobbing, unsure who I was really talking to, but saying, nonetheless, "You did this. I know what you did. I will never forget what you started. This is all your fault." And I opened my cupboard, saw a few bottles of pills, and took them, five at a time. I suddenly felt at peace as I was preparing to do this. I spilled the pills on my counter and lined them up, five at a time, and took them. Then, I began cleaning my place and organizing my bills as if nothing happened. I took a picture of my Grandmother, put it by my bed, turned on the tv, and closed my eyes. I told my Grandma I loved and missed her, and that I was going to see her soon.

I can't believe I just told you all this. What freaks me out more than you knowing is the fact that a few people who know me personally have this blog address, and they will soon know the truth.

I don't care. And if you're judging me, go to hell.

I'm angry with my mother for not divorcing my dad when he was at his worst, and more angry with her for taking out HER anger on me, too... and now, with my Grandma gone (it was my Mom's Mom that passed a year ago from Lou Gehrig's Disease), I feel my mom trying extra hard to build some kind of relationship with me. My dad, too. Both of them pretending like nothing ever happened. I felt like I was being ganged up on during those years... fighting her and my dad... my brother off at college doing whatever the hell he was doing... happy to be out of there to live his own life.

I know I have to let go of this anger. The things I'm angry with my brother about I can't tell anyone, either. The things I remember, but must keep buried deep inside as if they never happened. Just like many other things that happened when I was young. I can't open that can of worms. It's in the past. I have to let it all stay there, otherwise my life WILL be over. If I tell the truth about all these secrets... secrets I haven't even confessed in this blog... all hell will break loose. It will destroy my family. My family already has been destroyed enough without me adding to all the drama.

So now what do I do? Even now, I'm starting to cry because I can't figure out how all this is supposed to work out in the end. I can't ever forget any of it. I know what I know. I remember the truth. But how do I forgive? How do I just let it all go and not let it come inbetween every relationship I've ever had?

All of my secret pain and memories ARE ruining my relationships... I can't seem to get to this feeling of 100% inside and out. Confusing feelings and memories interrupt realtionships with men I've dated and really, truly cared about. Best friends have dropped me for months because they're tired of me "acting like a victim."

THAT one really pissed me off for a long time. Of course now, everything's fine. But still... DO NOT tell me I'm acting like a victim. FUCK YOU for accusing me of that when you have NO clue of what my truth is.

And that's another avenue of this entire life I can't seem to get a grip on. I understand that many will NOT understand why I am the way I am... why I sometimes act the way I do... and they will say very hurtful things like that. It does hit a nerve inside of me, and when that happens, the words kind of stay with me. I never forget it. It's another full time job to tell myeslf to let it go and leave the past in the past.

I can't seem to figure out if time really does heal all wounds... or if I just need to close my eyes, turn off my heart, and deal.

Please help.

Of Course...

My assistant quit yesterday... moving back home.

Sweet.

So much for having it all figured out... so much for everything falling into place.

"Everything happens for a reason."

Although I'm beyond frustrated and disappointed, I'm not really surprised.

Nothing surprises me anymore... you've read my blog. You know what I mean.

Anything can happen just like that, when you think you have everything under control... when you finally feel everything falling into place... Life happens, spins you in a different direction, and your focus slowly starts to change, as do your priorities...

Unsure how everything at work will pan out now.

But I'm sure it'll work out the way I need it to... eventually... as long as I don't lose faith/focus.

Been searching for larger places to move into, too. Hopefully something I like opens up soon. But, finding a great little spot around here is like finding a needle in a haystack... although I did find a nice little place across the beach... nice.

Hello :)

Sorry I've been out of commish with this blog stuff lately. Life has been weird since the ER trip in September, and the more time passes, the clearer things are getting.

2006 was a little crazy... My Grandma died (we were very close), I went public with my rape, I fell really hard for someone without even realizing it, and that all went to shit after "dating" for a year and a half... apparently when I was ready, and I knew he was the only one I wanted to be with, it was too late. "Things change. I just am where I am right now." Whatever. Total Bullshit. And then there was the hospital and that drama... do I stay here? Do I move in with my brother? Life isn't going to stop just because I'm sick. And I had everyone telling me what to do because I was in "no condition to think clearly" or some shit like that. Fuck. I was so tired of everyone's shit. I just needed some peace and quiet to let the dust settle.

If you like me, and wanted to be with me, then why didn't you tell me? I can't read your mind, and I know you can't read mine, but for future reference, if you ever want to be happy with anyone, you HAVE to talk. Otherwise, there's no point. Thanks for not letting me bail when I knew this was going to happen with our "friendship." Sweet.

It seems like things are finally mellowing out, though. It took me a while to find a good assistant, and now I know she's here to stay, so I've been able to cut back on my hours and work-stress. Sometimes, if I'm just tired of being around 120 dudes for twelve hours a day, I take off for an hour or two so I can come home, smoke a bowl, watch some brainless tv, take a break from Life, and then head back to work. Having her around has definitely helped my mental health. Remember I work at a construction company. No, not in the office. Well, yes, in the office, of course, but I'm on the job sites themselves. On these billion dollar estates working next to buildings being torn down, concrete being poured for the new Guard House, demo-ing the driveway via nice sounding jackhammers next to my ear. It gets pretty stressful sometimes. The Client I work for is insane, and she's been wanting to hire me out of my company for the past year now. I finally discussed this with my boss, which is why I held off on relocating just yet... I needed to get in a headspace where I could see what was best for the LONG RUN, not just right now.

Anyhow, as soon as this project is completed and our Client moves in (end of June), wedding stuff for another best friend will start picking up, and I'll be gone here and there a lot while helping her with her festivities... and the wedding's in another country, so damn... I have to travel 7-10 days to party with all my best friends. So after her fall wedding, I'll check in with my boss again regarding this position she wants to hire me for. All other projects are kind of hold until we finish this remodel, so the timing's perfect. And I just rec'd another promotion with my current employer, so there's extra money comin in soon either way (which is always welcome in my bank account)... and the new design/architecture knowledge will only help me better prep to work directly under this this client. I'll pretty much be saying goodbye to my life if I want to work for her... if she's traveling in France for 3 months, I go with her, or fly out there multiple times to meet with her, pending on the position. This job will be insane... a shitload of perks, a shitload more money, and I can only imagine the kinds of people I'll meet through working for her. She really likes me for some reason, and even my boss was telling me how she's doesn't like many people at all, but she's really impressed with me. How this is possible, I have no idea... I hardly ever see her, or talk to her for that matter. But my boss did tell me that she really likes having a girl around, finally. (I'm pretty much the only long-term one this company has had in this office, and I run it inside and out for all this crazy Client's projects). This job's mine whenever I'm ready for it. After my best friend's wedding/vacation, I'll be ready to work for this lady. This is the time in my life I should take this kind of opportunity, isn't it? No strings attached, no major commitments, young, fun, single... and I have this gut feeling that she's really going to help with all this Survivor Retreat Center and Non-Profit work a few of us are doing. I know it's far enough in the future, and that's fine... she's really into charity stuff, and if she likes me as much as she does, and she learns about all this work I'm doing with other survivors... I don't know... I just think working for this lady will end up meaning more to my life than just another paycheck. I'm pretty excited to see what's going to happen with all this... I'll finally get to travel to some amazing, exotic places... and I'll have to because it's my job :)

Okay... I'm done rambling for now. And to all my friends I had linked on my sidebar, I'm sorry for deleting you guys. Was tired of really stupid messages from assholes, and didn't want them to start harrassing any of you, too. There's nothing I can do, though. It's the fucking internet. And it's sucks that there are some losers out there who have nothing better to do than pick on innocent women trying to get their life back after their sexual abuse/rape. Shame on you, idiot assholes, for being who you are, and doing what you do.

Yeah, like saying, "Shame on you," is going to mean two shits to you. Why do you do it? Why do you rape women? Don't you ever imagine someone doing something so horrible to your mother, sister or daughter?? 1 in 3 women is sexually assaulted/raped in her lifetime. One of these three women in YOUR life, Dear Bastard-Rapist, has suffered through what YOU do to women. I can't imagine not feeling something when you look at it in that way. Or are you seriously, truly, really that absent of a heart and soul? Yes, if you do this sort of thing to women, you are nothing but a waste of skin.

They say God is never wrong, but I'm afraid that's false. Look in the mirror, Rapist. You will see his mistake.

Goodnight now, readers... been really sick again these past few days, and am now ready to spend some time with my two new boyfriends... gatorade, and my bed.

Dear Anonymous:

I've since erased your very insensitive, graphic and rude comments on my site. They were too disturbing and hurtful to the eyes of each survivor reading my site.

However, I need to know...

Have you ever molested or raped anyone?

I think you have.

The Anniversary of My Rape

I know I haven't been writing much lately at all. And I'm sorry for that.

Unsure where my head's been lately.

My heart's just been very, very drained as her internal dust begins to settle.

I am beginning to see things a bit clearer, and am starting to feel a little more solid each and every day...

The 10 year anniversary of my rape just passed... on Friday, November 17th.

I'm unsure how I feel about it all. I'm very, very tired.

I'm doing fine, don't get me wrong. Just tired is all.

This has been my year to break free from this jail I've been living in for years and years. This is the year I begin to get my life back. The year I can look in the mirror and NOT see Jay's eyes staring right back at me. I am beginning to feel comfortable in my own skin... finally... instead of fighting myself from grating it to the bone.

It's taken me 10 years to not be afraid of my my rape.

I don't know if I want to go home for Thanksgiving... I'm afraid all I will think about is my rape and my rapist, and I'm afraid I'll end up driving back to that house again. I might not be very pleasant to be around, to tell you the truth. I may just need to be alone.

I don't know...

Although I agreed there was no reason to see Jay again when I was in the ER, the thought's been in the back of my mind the last week or so again.

Just wanted to check in.

Not sure how I really feel about much right now.

Maybe I'm just numb.

And the more open and naked I've become to the entire world this past year about my rape, the more friends I have lost.

Friendships and relationships operate differently now, if it all anymore. It's almost as if I am being treated like I should be feeling guilty for making certain decisions in order to get my life back.

I don't understand this. I mean, I do, though... people just change as life changes.

And life will always be changing.

I don't know what else to say. Just really, really tired.

I just turned 28 on November 17th. And my rape is 10 years old.

I hope my readers are all doing well.

Goodnight.

Change

"The only constant is change."

This year has been fucking crazy.

I started this blog and have connected with so, so many survivors. Starting this was the first time I really, actually, truly admitted my rape to myself, and many other painful experiences I never really allowed myself to feel. No wonder I felt like I was going crazy.

In addition to this site, I started another one to gain even more support from survivors and friends. I have also been working on getting a foundation started, a legitimate website up and running to advertise and raise awareness, money & support, and have been planning all kinds of fundraisers.

I've also told the men I work with (remember I work in an all-male environment... a construction company) that I was raped. They all have been so supportive and understanding while I've been struggling so much this year, and especially since my ER trip last month.

I was also planning to confront my rapist, but not anymore. When I was lying in that ER room, all kinds of tubes sticking out of my broken body, I knew it was done. It was over. It couldn't be more done if I tried. Look at where I was now... where I have been subconciously since the night I was raped:

trapped

held hostage

It's over.

I was raped.

WAS raped.

And now it's over.

I've come out of the closet this year.

No wonder I've been feeling out of whack, not myself, crazy, uncomfortable, edgy, terrified, sad, paranoid...

It's taken me years to admit my past is what it is.

And now that I have, it's time to move on.

I'm going to focus on getting my website and foundation up and running. And then will come the fundraisers and many other projects I shoved aside when I felt myself lose control months ago.

First and foremost, though, I have to focus on getting my body healthy again. She's been so broken for so long. I have to take care of her. I have many people who love and care about me more than I know, many people who have connections and will do anything to help me lead a healthy life again.

I don't have to do this alone. It's time I start letting people help me. It's okay to ask for help.

My boss's wife is a natural medicine doctor. She's offered me anything I may ever need free of charge, including acupuncture and massage to relax and heal my body. My brother is a chiropractor, so he knows many people through his work. And since my family has made their millions from farming, nutrition and health have always been priority. My family is really big in believing that our bodies really are our temples. I have all kinds of resources available to feed my body what she needs to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And yoga and walking for exercise until I am strong enough for the gym and running again.

I know I'm going to be okay.

You have to go through the bad to get to the good.

My rape is over. It's time for me to stop feeling so dead on the inside. Jay can't ever hurt me again. It's over.

It's time to get my life back.

High on Life

Kinda drunk right now, and watching some random MTV show about kids hooked on crystal meth.

All it makes me think about is doing some great, tasty lines of angel-white cocaine.

I haven't done coke in 14 months. A fucking world record for me. As much as my mouth is, literally, watering right now from missing my most favorite high, I WILL NOT break. Life already has me walking on a tightrope... I'll make it to the other side... slowly, but surely.. I'll make it over there.

I can't crack.

No more hard drugs.

But, OH MY FUCKING GOD, do I wish I wish I had a healthy eight-ball in front of me right now.

One more thing:

I miss him.

And I swear to you, Dear Reader, that I don't even know why I miss him... but I do...

I just have to let it all go.

I have to focus on getting myself healthy again, first and foremost.

Bottom line.

End of story.

It is what it is.

And that's that.

Take it day by day, Missing Link, day by day...

Dear Grandma,
Tell me one of his stories. Please give me his strength to put one foot in front of the other. Please, please meet me in my dreams again, and tell me what to do. ..

From My Heart

I don't know how to survive right now. I don't know how to muster up enough energy to make it through the days. I am completely thrown with health issues and while I know I have family and friends I can rely on, people who love me more than I can ever know, people who would drop their lives to help me live mine, I still have never, ever, ever felt more alone and deserted.

I am so tired.
Exhausted.
Beaten.
I am not well.

It is going to be a long and hard road to get my body healthy again. It's going to take a shitload of commitment and serious, hard-core routine doctor visits, a strict diet, medication, exercise & positive thinking to get myself healthy again.

I have never felt more
depleted
dry &
vaporized
in my life.

My mom and aunt spent the weekend with me, and just left earlier this afternoon. "It was nice to spend time with my old niece last night," my aunt said today. "The smiling, laughing, entertaining niece I've always taken care of."

It boils down to me not being able to take care of myself right now. I don't want to be alone. Because as soon as I'm all alone, no one here to distract me or talk to, the piercing truth of my reality cuts into my heart and soul. I so desperately wish I wasn't alone right now. I have to eat dinner and take my medicine, but I can barely keep my eyes open right now. I am so drained that I can barely think straight. I wish I wasn't alone. I wish I wasn't alone. I wish I did have the boyfriend-kind of love and support where I can trust, rely and feel safe when I need help making soup or taking a shower because I've been throwing up all night or freezing cold from another high fever.

I know I'm not alone.

But I am afraid you're wrong.

I'm alone right now.

I'm afraid I will always be alone.

This is, slowly but surely, becoming my reality.

I don't know what's happening, but I am not healthy, and I wish I wasn't here alone, living, working, not sleeping and not eating because I am just too wiped out to even take care of myself the way I desperately need to be taken care of.

But more than my body needs nourishment and continuous, careful care, the more my heart begins to hurt and cringe with shots of pain at realizing... feeling... regretting... that I'm going through, most likely, the roughest patch I've ever hit next to my rape. Even rougher than close family and friends dying. Rougher than revisiting the house I was raped in. Worse than knowing I have a really, long, hard road ahead of me is feeling like I may never get that kind of love and support from a man who will stand with me during times like these.

I am, after all, standing here... or should I say, lying here... all alone... again.

So tired.

Goodnight.

Drained

I'm not sure how I'm doing. My health is in question and it's really, really scary. I know everything will be fine in the long run, but when you're in the heart of such a Life's Curveball kind of situation, it takes a while for the fog to clear long enough to know what the "right" decision is... but is there such a thing as a right or wrong decision if it's made by your heart? Can you really go that wrong if you just listen to what you're heart wants and needs to be healthy and safe again? I just have to listen to her. She's been really drained lately, but I just have to listen. Just rest, recharge my batteries, and listen. And the rest will follow.

I know I haven't been writing much lately, but I haven't been myself this past year. Everything has finally come to a head. Everything is different. Everything is new. Big changes. Everything before my trip to the ER is just a blur. A foggy, confusing, blinding haze. I haven't been myself. I wasn't myself with family, friends, people I secretly cared for.

And I felt something

wrong

inside of my
tired
little
body

but I never said anything to anyone because

I didn't want to know the truth.

I didn't want to be sick.

I don't who I've become this past year, but it hasn't been me. I know that for sure. When I was laying in that hospital bed, hooked up to all kinds of tubes and passing in and out of consciousness, I realized that I could not have made it through. But I'm still here for some reason or another.

I'm still here.

tired
sick
drained

but I'm still here.

And that's the most important thing.

Now, more than ever, as long and hard of a road it's going to be, I want to do whatever I can to be healthy again. I have to do whatever it takes for my heart's sake, because she almost gave up on me. She almost quit on me. I can't let her quit.

We're fighters, dammit.

NOT quitters.

So, my dear friends, whether you know me personally or not at all, I'm sorry if I have been difficult to deal with, "weird" or just plain confusing with actions and conversations. Because the truth is, it was all an act to mask what I was afraid was really wrong inside.

But that's just it... mask it long enough, ignore what you're mind, body and soul are trying to tell you, then your heart will continue running on empty until you listen to her, take care of her, and thus, ultimately, take care of yourself.

We have to take care of ourselves, first and foremost.

Do whatever it takes.

Do whatever you have to do to be

safe
healthy &
happy

because without those three things

we're all just

on the verge of quitting.

Boyfriend

I wish I had a boyfriend.

Especially after having days and nights in the Emergency Room like yesterday.

I don't know what makes me not "girlfriend material," but apparently I have something that just hasn't clicked with someone else.

I know when you want it, when you wish you had that love and support, when your heart needs that unconditional love and understanding, you can never find it.

It finds you.

It took me an hour to take a shower just now. I'm so wiped out. I can still see the marks all over my body where they put those stickers they plug in wires to monitor your heart rate, etc.

I don't know what's happened to me this year. I don't know what this world is putting me through.

I'm so drained and spent.

I wish I had a boyfriend who could come over and hold me, gently caressing the small of my back as I fall back asleep. Softly stroking my hair and holding me so I wouldn't have any nightmares.

I wish he was here, whoever he is... wherever he is...

Emergency Room

I just returned home from being in the Emergency Room all day and all night.

I can't talk about what happened.

At least not yet.

I don't think today's events have even hit me yet.

My body was here, (trying) to talk to the police, the paramedics, being wheeled out to the ambulance... hooked up to all kinds of tubes, lights in my eyes, questions I don't know the answers to...

I wish I could tell you what happened, but I'm afraid I can't.

Just glad to be home is all.

Can't wait to take a hot shower to wash today off of me.

Can't wait to go to sleep.

Please forgive me if I need to check out for a while... I didn't plan this... it just is what it is right now.

Goodnight.

AND PLEASE, SURVIVORS, ALWAYS TAKE GOOD CARE OF YOU.

Much Love Always

I'm Over It, Chapter 2

Emailed my ex telling him to forget about it. "I'm going alone. I'll be fine... I'm a big girl. I do appreciate your call, though."

I emailed another ex-boyfriend about a month ago telling him that I didn't want to keep in touch anymore. "You can't expect me to share my life with you if you're sharing yours with someone else."

I don't know if I'm going to see Jay anymore. I don't fucking care.

If I see him, I'm afraid I will kill him.

Slowly. I want him to suffer.

I'm discouraged again. Frustrated. Alone. Confused. Angry.

Very, very angry.

I can't figure out why.

The 10 year anniversary is in less than two months. And I feel like I'm back where I started.

I'm not sure if I'm really moving on from this. I'm not sure what else to do. I'm not really sure what needs to change or happen inside of me. But I need it to happen right now.

Highs and lows. I don't want medication. I don't want to talk anymore. I just want to, seriously, let it go. I don't think I can try any harder.

Nightmares again all last night.

I kept finding my friends... dead. I couldn't see their faces, but I saw dead hands and body parts sticking out of bushes and from behind things. I recognized clothing and jewelry to know it was this friend or that friend. It was dark, foggy, eerie, quiet. I had these dreams over and over again. Every time I went back to sleep, my nightmares started where they left off.

I don't know what's happening inside of my head.

Or my heart.

Tell me what's happening.

Tell me how to make it stop.

I just want to get on with my life. Pretending like it didn't happen isn't the way.

I know it's just an event that happened. I know it's a part of my life that I just have to accept and move on from.

I have been moving on... I'm doing really great in every other area of my life. But as soon as I walk through my front door, like today, it hits me: I'm unhappy and I don't know why.

I'm stuck. But I don't where or how to get myself unstuck.

I'm happy, fun, funny, outgoing all the rest of the time. But this is the truth.

I don't know what's happening with me and I just want it to stop.

I miss my Grandma. I haven't talked to my family in six months. I don't want to see them or talk to them. I have nothing to say. I wish my Grandma was still here.

I just want to disappear and start over.

Help.

Scrounging for Support

I emailed my ex-boyfriend to ask if he would go with me to confront my rapist:

...More importantly, though, I have a really weird and confusing favor to ask. I've been thinking about this for so long, but can't go alone, and have NO idea who I feel safe to take with me. But I'm going to actually see/confront Jay, my rapist. I don't have many details or a plan of action just yet. I just know I'm going. And I've known for years that I would see him again, just like I knew I would, someday, eventually, return to "the scene of the crime." Just revisited the house it all happened in, sat in his room... Don't ask me what that was like because I'm not even sure yet... I'm just kind of going with all this right now. Just taking it one step at a time.

My question to you is how you feel about going with me to see him. I don't think you would be remotely interested. And I will completely understand if that's the case. But my options are limited with who I can take, and even more limited with who might be understanding enough about me just needing to do this for my heart. That's all I know.

He lives in (State). You can meet me out there once I know when I'm going, and I will probably need to stay at least a few days. I feel more comfortable taking a guy with me... it's safer. I don't know how I will react when I see him there, or how he will react when he sees me. I'll understand if this random "favor" just makes you really uncomfortable. You don't have to answer now, of course, but please do let me know if you will at least think about it or not consider it at all. If not, then I beg you to let me know as soon as you can so I can start thinking about who else might be willing to go...

He called me today to talk to me about all of this. I wasn't going to answer his call because I didn't want to hear him tell me he can't go, like I had a feeling he might say. I just wanted him to email me, but that was the most frustrating thing for me when we were together - the lack of communication. I'm trying to be better about that. So I answered his call and we talked about why I want to do this.

He said he can tell that I've come a long way emotionally with everything (I also mentioned the fundraiser, Non-Profit and Retreat Center stuff we're trying to do). I said, "Well, yeah. A lot has been going on. It's been at least a few years, if not longer, since we've really spent any time together or talked. Life has been pretty unreal."

He asked if I was talking to anyone about doing this and I told him that I just started counseling last week to wrap my head around it because I know my head needs to be more stable about why I really feel like I have to see my rapist again. I said I didn't really have a "plan" of sorts just yet, and that's why I called my counselor again - because I have to figure out what my heart really needs/wants out of this confrontation.

I also told him that for all I know, I might change my mind. That I also can't pinpoint if I am secretly motivated because the anniversary is around the corner, and that might be another driving force because it's such a big one for me. And I've also been thinking that I might just need to check out for a while, at least until this anniversary comes and goes, before I can really wrap my head around taking this trip. "For all I know," I continued, "I could check back in with myself after that day and realize that I'm totally over it. Or I could find out that he might be dead by now. Or serving 25 to life because he finally got caught. I don't know..."

He asked me how long it's been since it happened. I didn't want to tell him, really. For some reason, I hate it when he asks me questions about my rape. I don't know why I feel this way with him, but I do. It's intimidating for me sometimes. But I said, "It'll be 10 years this year on my birthday." We also talked about the last time I saw my rapist, which was when I moved away from home for college.

I went on to say that I know how uncomfortable of a "favor" this must seem. And that I will totally understand if it makes him uncomfortable or if he just doesn't want any part of it. He said that a lot of what I'm talking to him about is true and he believes I'm doing this in the smartest way possible, meaning that I know I need help in stabilizing my head before I make this trip, and recognizing that I can't just go there and not have a "plan." I also mentioned to him that I most likely won't even want him to actually physically go with me to see him, that I just think I need to know someone is there waiting for me when I get back because I don't know how I'm going to be after confronting him.

I told my ex that I don't know if I answered any of his questions or if he has any more for me, and that I hope this all helps him to kind of understand why I might need to do this... and that I'm still trying to understand it all myself. "I don't have any questions for you, (Missing Link)," he said. "I'm not asking you anything at all. I just really want us to keep talking about this. I want us to keep an open dialogue about what's going on. I never had any questions. That's not why I called you. I just want us to keep talking."

He said he doesn't really want to say yes right away, but he really doesn't want to say no right away, either. That he just really needs us to keep talking to each other, that he needs us to keep an open dialogue about what's happening and where we're at.

And how do I feel about our conversation? I don't know. I just feel exposed and naked again, like I'm going to just sit here and wait for him to decide if he can do this with me or not. More waiting and hoping that I'm worth someone's else support. THAT'S how I really feel. Like I'm not worth his yes. I know that's not the case. I know that I'm still trying to figure it all out and until I have it figured out on my end, I can't expect anything from anyone.

Our cell phones were cutting in and out throughout our conversation, and I have no voice right now because of how sick I've been the last few days, so our conversation was a little scratchy. So after my phone died, I texted him, "Phone died. Thanks for the call. Will try to keep checking in with you but can't make any promises. Think I just need to let the anniversary pass and see where my head's at..."

For some reason, I just feel like a total idiot for ever asking him to do this with me.

I don't know if I regret it or not.

... only time can tell.

I just wish I knew why I have to see my rapist again so badly. I don't know... I just do. My heart just needs this...

Dating/Intimacy After Rape

"The only normal people are the ones you don't know very well!" Joe Ancis

Most of the time, I feel like I should "be over it" by now. Like my rape happened so long ago that it should be in the past and it should still not effect me in the ways it sometimes still does, especially when I feel my heart beginning to care about someone.

I went out of town this last weekend for my best friend's bachelorette party (think it's going to take me another day or two to fully recover!) I met someone on this trip my first night there. Jeremy. It was fun for us to flirt with his crew and party the night away. But when I was ready to finish the night with the rest of my girls, he wouldn't let me go. Literally. I kept saying it was fun to hang with him but I was ready to take off with the rest, that our weekend was just beginning. But everytime I turned to walk away, he would grab my arms and not let go. He wanted a kiss, so I quickly pecked one on his cheeck and when I turned around again, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back in. I didn't let him kiss me. I was starting to get really uncomfortable with how tight his grip was on me, and how he just would not let me leave. I kept watching my girls walk away and I didn't want to be stranded, especially with a random guy who thought I owed him something. What was really getting under my skin was how he kept saying, "Why are you being weird? I just want to spend more time with you. I don't know why you keep acting like that. You're being really weird and I don't know why."

I wasn't acting like anything. I was drunk, but not so drunk that I was going to ditch my best friends for this character. He kept getting more forceful. His grip on my arms kept getting tighter and tighter each time I tried to walk away. I was starting to get antsy, and pissed. I didn't owe this fucker anything. And HE was getting irritated with me, asking me over and over why I was "being weird" with him. When I finally walked away, I had red marks on each arm where he held tight. I just wanted to be with my friends again.

This is how it is for me since my rape. What may be "weird" for the "normal guy" is my normal now. I can't help it if I start to panic a little or if I need to just run away. I can't help it if I start "acting weird" because the truth of the matter is, you never really know who you can trust anymore.

I know I can get paranoid and scared. I know that in order to just preserve my sanity, I'd rather turn around and walk away forever. It's much easier than facing the truth. It's much easier to just close your eyes and pretend like you don't want to be someone, like you don't care about being alone when, in reality, you're acting like you don't care because then you can't get hurt. Anything to keep your heart from hurting anymore than she has to, especially because you're just now learning how to accept and process something as confusing and painful as your rape.

Dating is even more difficult for me because my rapist was first experience with a man. Because a majority of my experiences with men since early childhood have been unsafe and fearful, my mind, body & heart have all learned to "stay away" from men altogether. I'm trying to change that, but old habits die hard. It just takes time. And more that I have to remember to take it one step at a time, I have to remember to just be patient with my heart. If something doesn't feel comfortable or right for some reason, I need to pay attention to that. I can't just keep turning around and walking away because then I WILL be alone forever. And who wants that?

My greatest struggle with dating is communicating when something confuses me or makes me uncomfortable. Instead of openly asking questions or sharing why something bothers me, I assume he should just be able to read my mind and understand without needed a long, drawn-out discussion. And I hate The Talks every relationship needs to have in order to successfully and continuously progress in the same direction. The way I see it, if it's meant to be, it'll just happen... he'll just know what do and make it work.

But I'm realizing this is not the case. The truth is this is the only way I'll know when someone is right for me... when I'm comfortable enough to say what I'm feeling, or not feeling, for that matter. For some reason or another, of all the men I've dated or "liked," not one has given my heart what she needs in order to relax and let go. I don't say this to mean only a man can help my heart let go... I say this to mean that my heart just isn't ready to open up yet. And for all I know, I could have already met plenty of men who do care enough about me to make it work, but if I'm not really "present" in the relationship, then there isn't really much to work with, right?

Maybe I'm finally reaching a point where I'd like to at least explore another relationship. I feel like I need practice. Like I need to be with somone who is just willing to go through the motions of learning what a relationship is all about, and someone willing enough to help me learn when I'm struggling with what to do next.

I understand I'm not a "normal girl" with "normal issues" because of many things I've experienced in my tired little 27 years of life, but I also understand that... well... how many of us are really all that normal anyway? And what does that even mean?! You are only as normal as you feel, and if I don't feel 100%, then eventually it's going to show, and it's going to slither its way into other areas of my life without me even recognizing it... until it's too late. I can't keep my heart cold, hard and locked away forever.


On a side note: I had my first counseling appointment last week to pursue confronting my rapist. I need help wrapping my head around my motivation behind needing to see him. And before I even do that, I have to look at this confrontation from every angle. I don't know how I will react when I see him standing in front of me, or how he will react when he sees my face. Maybe more than I need to see him, I need him to see ME... this possibility surfaced in my session, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head since then...

Fallen

I just fell out of my shower and into my bed, soaking wet. I was washing my face when I had to hold myself up because I almost crumbled in the shower. I almost threw up for some reason. I was shaking. I needed to lay down but I couldn't get myself up and out of the shower. I turned the water off in one sweep, grabbed my towel, stumbled my way to my bed and fell down, naked and soaking wet. I was sweating, praying I wasn't going to throw up, hoping this would pass like the rest.

I'm dressed now, but don't feel like going into work anymore. But I have to. And I still have to do some things for my friend's wedding. I really don't feel like, but I have to. I'm mentally spent.

I have to admit it now. I think I want a boyfriend. I can't help but wish someone was here when things like this happen. When I can't sleep, when I can't stand up in the shower because my mind and body has left me, when I'm throwing up what I just ate because I can't hold anything down. I want someone my heart can trust and be safe with, someone who cares and loves me enough to not leave if it gets too hard, someone who won't lie to me, someone who won't give me shit if I need to slow down.

Who am I kidding, though? Any man who could know about a woman's so many dirty little secrets would never, willingly, jump into a relationship with her... too many red flags to count. My next boyfriend will never know about any of this. He can't. Every man I've trusted with the painful parts of my life have used it against me. Granted I still had unresolved issues, but don't tell your friends and family about my rape and then lie to me after I ask you, "Did you tell people about what happened on my birthday?"

I think I've just been hurt way too much to ever fully trust anyone again. I think this is my truth. I'm afraid there isn't anyone out there for my heart. Everything will work itself out, I know. Just confiding another secret... just releasing this into the world:

I don't know if I'm ready for another relationship... it scares me to know that there is a chance it won't work because nothing in Life is a guarantee... and I'm tired of going through the shitty motions of ending something that was so great. But how can I know if I'm ready unless you let me try? I just want to "fix" whatever my issues are. But I can't do that unles you give me someone to try with. I don't care about marriage or kids or the white picket fence. Just give me someone who cares enough about me to be with me right now, no matter what. I just want a boyfriend who doesn't care what other people think or do, just someone who is comfortable in his own skin, comfortable enough to be with all of me - the good and bad. If I need my space, then that should be okay. If I can't have sex one night, I don't want to fight about it, I just want him to understand. I just want to be with someone who understands that I'm doing the best I can, and I am, slowly but surely, getting my life back on track. I just want to finally be with someone who cares about me, can love me, and understands that I'm trying... I hope that can be enough...

I can't believe how bad my head hurts and how badly I need to throw up. I don't understand the physical reactions and weird sicknesses I get from time to time. Please help me understand this. Please help me understand what I need to do to get my physical health back in order. I used to be so healthy, always working out and staying in shape. Lately, though, I haven't been able to feel 100%. And I don't know why...

The Next Step

So now what? I desperately want to relocate, but because I want it to be for a while, I have to do it right. I have to pay off more bills and save a nice nest egg... relocating is so financially stressing! It just seems so far away... I'm afraid I'm going to get "stuck" here. I don't want that. I don't want to live here forever. I have to see what else is out there, who esle is out there. I have to travel. I have to meet new people and try new things. I'm tired of feeling like my life is on hold.

It makes me sad that I'm kind of over a few relationships. It makes me really sad. I don't want to walk away, but I'm at a loss of what else to do. If it's been so long and I still feel like I don't really know what's going on, then I'm afraid I'm never going to know. And how long is too long to hold on? I'm tired of holding on and waiting for the light to go off in my head... my heart feels it. But I'm resisting the final understanding of it for some reason. Just like I'm resisting writing and seeing my family. I'm standing in my own way.

So I'm just going to let it all go and walk away.

I hope I can relocate soon. I desperately need a big change, a fresh start. I need that one thing or person to make it all finally click together. Whatever it is that I need to see, hear, learn or know, it better happen real soon. Before my birthday, the anniversary of my rape.

Letting Go...

I think I'm going to let go of a few things/people in my life. I can't say much else other than it really sucks. They're relationships that have been confusing to "read." I don't like not knowing how I feel. I don't like not being able to 100% trust anyone because they've already hurt me pretty bad once... or because I've already been screwed with a few times.

I want to move forward with my life. I don't know how to do that if I have "confusing energy" around me. God, that sounds so cheesy, but it's true. I feel like I've reached a point where I've been "played with" for so long, meaning - I don't know how I feel, that it's almost holding me back now. It's making me feel stuck or something for some reason. Who wants to feel stuck? It's a pretty shitty feeling, believe me. I don't know if I should trust my head or my heart...

I just want to know the truth already. That's all. I want to know why she feels the way she does, what he really wants, why he's back, if it was real love then or if it's real love now.

I don't understand what I'm feeling. I'm pretty sure I just need to know the truth already. I need a sign, one way or another. I'm putting this out there, to the world... I need a few signs, please... until then, I'm done... I'm letting go...

Avoiding the Inevitable

I'm not sure what's happening the last few days. I haven't been feeling so hot. Can't hold much of anything down in terms of eating. My headaches are getting worse. I am so drained and exhausted.

I could be PMSing.

But I doubt it, since this is what happens when I'm consumed with my rape again. I've been trying to get things organized for the website, trying to stay focused on the happy Life events around the corner... but ever since what happened with Bob a few days ago, my mind has completely left me.

I cried last night.

I needed a break, so I headed out of town yesterday afternoon. I did my usual thinking while aimlessly driving around, stopping wherever I felt, driving however far I wanted. I passed the freeway exit to my Grandma's house. If she were alive, I would've driven straight to her house for jokes and movies.

And then everything I've been avoiding hit me like a ton of bricks. Everything I've been holding in, running away from...

I've been smoking nonstop since she died. I've been such a pothead, totally & completely ignoring anything requiring care, responsibility and attention... just drowning myself in my work and side projects. I bought a quarter the day after her cremation.

I cried my eyes out while watching her casket go in. I couldn't let go of her, couldn't stop touching her, hugging her... I wanted to pick her up and take her home with me. Her illness took everything out of her. She couldn't talk, walk, eat, drink... always choking on each sip of water she took. Unable to ever stay comfortable because she could, literally, feel her muscles melt away... pleading in front of me for God to take her to a healthier, happier place because if she couldn't even breathe on her own, then what was the point of living anymore?? She fought for her life as hard as I fought for mine. She gives me strength. From the time I was born, just two days old, and I was already living with her. And when home life was at its most violent, I always escaped to her house.

Tears are forming at just wishing I could hug her one last time, hold her hand, comb her hair, watch her try to hold in her laughter as I told stories because it hurt her too much to laugh like she loved to do. But trying to hold it in would always make us laugh more! Those were my favorite times. When she was smiling and laughing. Knowing that no matter what, all that mattered was that we were around her, loving and caring for her.

I wish we could still look at fashion magazines like she loved to do. I miss watching her eyes light up anytime she saw a baby on tv. I wanted to give her great-grandchildren before she died. Even if she couldn't pick up my son/daughter. I wanted her to have a new life to love before God took hers away, slowly and painfully. She wanted to see us all settled, happy and with families. She wanted nothing but the best for each of us, always sharing Life's Instructions to smooth our paths.

I can't believe how much I miss her. I wish she were here. This is why I've been smoking so much. I haven't wanted to face the reality that she's really, really gone. Just thinking about being in her house again, looking at the wall of family portraits as I walk upstairs to her bedroom where I used to sleep... I can't do it. Not yet.

I so badly wish she were here. She would tell me how to be okay right now. She and I would have one of our Life discussions and everything would make sense again... I can't believe how much I miss her. How much I have missed her all these months but haven't let myself think about it... or feel it.

So I've been feverishly smoking ever since. Even taking a few hits before setting down my keys after I get home from work... sometimes even smoking before I go into work because I've had dreams about her, Jay raping me, or being chased by faceless people and vicious animals.

Lately, though, the dreams have been about me just being lost and scared somewhere. It's been in/around water lately. Once it was a deserted ship or something. Last night we were on an island. And I'm always with someone, but I never recognize this person. It's just a faceless person that I'm comfortable with, but don't entirely trust for some reason. And just as I think everything is going to be alright, something happens in my dream to jeopardize my life. With the ship, I kept running up and down stairs to find someone I knew because suddenly, the ship was rapidly sinking. And anytime I ran to a closed door to open it, it was locked. I had no way out. Trapped. And with the island dream last night: It was a fantastic beach day. Just when a friend and I snagged a spot, the weather turned horrible. Hurricane. And when I turned around to find my friend, he/she was gone. No where to be found. Stranded again, my life flashing before my eyes, the tides ready to eat me alive.

I continue to receive messages and emails from other survivors who are so grateful for the work I'm doing with these projects. The most important thing for me is to bring us all together. While our projects aren't 100% full-blown just yet, it's important to remember we can't make that happen until we've net together a strong support system. That's all I'm doing right now. That's the only thing keeping me alive and human. But even in the midst of all this, I still have overwhelming moments where I need to step back and allow myself room to breathe. Especially if I'm reading another survivor's story.

We aren't alone.

Fuck our rapists and abusers.

I can't even ramble about much else... just really, really tired.

Goodnight... hopefully...

2 hours after I wrote this, I called my dealer for more smoke... I'm sorry, JIP...

Finished

I finished my smoke yesterday. I can't ration it if I know it's around. I just smoke until it's gone. I won't be reloading for a while. I just hope the nights are okay...

I don't know...

See how easy is it for me to go from doing great to being confused all over again? Is everyone like this? I think my age has something to do with it, honestly. Being 27 is kind of a weird place... especially if marraige and kids aren't priority like everyone else you know.

I'm okay with telling Bob about my rape. But now I'm going to feel a little awkward for a little while. It's just going to take me a while to not feel so naked at the office. And the guys talk, so I don't doubt that Bob already told the rest that it's true, I was raped.

Lately, though, since my last two boyfriends have popped back into my life, I can't stop thinking about someone else. I don't even know why. I'm curious about our "friendship." It doesn't feel like it's just a friendship, it feels like it might be something more... but I don't know if that's what we want... or maybe we're just too lame to admit we want it? I don't know why it even matters lately. I think I'm curious about who/what else is out there because I've finally closed the door on some unhealthy relationships. I'm curious why sex feels so incredible and safe with this one, and why we're still holding on. But I don't know how much longer I want to live here... I've been dying to relocate for so long now. It's just a matter of paying off a few more bills and then I can seriously figure it out. But being in two weddings in the next 13 months is preventing me from really saving much money for a big move... and I need a passport (maybe international visa, too)for the second wedding so that should give you a hint of how expensive Life is going to be for a little while. (Note to the World: No matter where I'm at, you better hook me up with a good boyfriend during this time... I want someone fun, cool and attractive - and must like to party, because we sure as hell love our alcohol and jokes! - to share this trip with. How boring to go to a 10 day destination wedding all by yourself!)

Anyhow, I don't know... just curious ... but the not-knowing is what makes this fun. I don't want to push the envelope with anything. Everything will work itself out when the time is right. I have plenty to keep me busy in the meantime...

Exposed

I work in an all male environment - a construction company.

I snapped at work yesterday because:

There is an Asian architect working on this specific project with us, except he sucks at everything having to do with architecture. His plans are always wrong, measurements are off, title blocks are misspelled, they're always arriving late... you name it. And on top of all that, he's even more frustrating to work with because you can never understand what he's trying to say - he has a thick Asian accent and he talks super fast. Yeah, we're NEVER going to get a project completion stamp on this one at this rate. This project was slated a 6 month remodel. We're going on month 15. I don't know how we're ever going to stick to this schedule if these fucking architects keep sending us wrong plans. I'm tired of this fucking project.

Anyhow, my office is always making fun of this guy. We aren't rude or evil or anything. We just start poking fun at how lame he is because we're so frustrated with this project. This architect has made a few really random, weird, but awkwardly funny comments to me before. The first was about me giving him a back-rub or some shit. So the guys haven't been able to forget about that one. He's already weird without that comment, and now this is just egging them on more. But a few weeks ago, the architect made another comment about me giving him a kiss or something. I think he just mixed up his words and it came out sounding that way, but that's not what he meant. The guys in the office know it was a communication gap kind of slip-up, but still, they sure do love to bring that one up, too.

One coworker in particular, "Bob," gets unbelievably irritated with this architect. Bob has to work with him the most on plans, dimensions, room allowances, etc., and he's the one guy who pokes the most fun by imitating this architect's comments to me. And yesterday, Bob started to do this right in front of the architect, as he was talking to him. After the design team left the office to continue their meeting elsewhere, a few of the guys started to laugh about what Bob just did, knowing it wasn't cool... but it was still funny.

I was laughing, too. It was a funny situation. You had to be there. But then I got really irritated when they wouldn't stop with the sexual innuendos between this architect and me. And there were a few guys in the office at the time that we've hired to do different parts of this remodel, guys that aren't with the company I work for. So when everyone started to feed off of each other at my expense, I snapped at Bob.

I wasn't yelling or livid or anything like that. I was just getting very short and irritated, and Bob could tell. "Take it easy, there. Jeez. You don't have to get all bent..."

And that pissed me off because Bob said something about me being too sensitive the other day. I didn't care because he doesn't know why I react the way I do. In reality, according to how little he knows about me, I am sensitive. But what really started to bother me about him is how he uses "rape" so casually. For example, if talking about sports: "Man, the Heat raped the Lakers last night!" I don't like that he uses the word like that. I hate hearing that word. Especially when it's tossed around so casually. It's not a casual word. There's nothing casual about it. It's dangerous.

My response: "I don't care what you say, just don't say it in front of everyone. Just don't say that shit right in front of him because then he's going to think it's okay to keep saying things like that. And I don't want that. And all of you guys laughing makes it look like it's okay. And it's not. There's a reason certain shit bugs me." I guess this was the last straw for me at work in general.

I couldn't believe how pissed I was. I wanted to seriously just walk off that job and never return. This is my daily struggle. I work with dudes all day long, and NONE of them can ever understand how hard it can get sometimes - being a rape survivor working on a construction job site. Especially if I have a sleepless night with nightmares... the last thing I want to do is be surrounded by 70-80 dudes coming at me because they all need something. I hate Life on those days. It feels like I'm working with/for the enemy.

Luckily, right after I told Bob to (basically) shut the fuck up, our printer called with my order. No one could deliver so I needed to drive downtown to pick up. Thank God.

I was very troubled while driving to and from the printer. Bob and I are pretty cool. He's like a big brother. In fact, all of the guys are like my big brothers. So I felt really troubled that I know these guys so well and they don't know the one thing about me they need to know. And they need to know about my rape for two reasons: (1) They need to be more appropriate and sensitive in certain situations. There's a time and place for everything. This is the bottom line (in my opinion): I'm the only woman on that job site. I should be respected, considering I run that fucking office for these fuckers. They should not egg each other on with sexual innuendos involving me and other guys working on this job - especially in front of the designers and architects. I'm sorry, but that's just not cool, especially since I already feel like a piece of meat on this job site. And (2) I think I can teach these guys something. I don't know what it is quite yet. But a little knowledge never hurt anyone.

So I picked up my print job and reluctantly drove back to work. I was hoping it wasn't going to be awkward. I was already thinking about calling in sick today. It was fine. There was a little break of time when everyone left the office except for Bob and I. I broke it down for him:

"Okay. Listen. The reason certain shit bugs me is because I was raped." And then I explained how on the days when I'm sometimes really out of it, when they tease me about being hungover or cranky, it's because I've had a really hard night with nightmares of it happening over and over again. "Then, to come into work where I'm surrounded by nothing but men all day long... it's real hard sometimes. It takes a lot for me to get bent out of shape, and I love joking around. But i just don't like that stuff being said in front of everyone."

"Wow," Bob said. "You sure picked a hell of a job."

"Yeah, I know. It's sometimes real crazy for me that I work here. I'm lucky that everyone's so great, but sometimes stuff like that just isn't cool." Bob apologized and said he'll be better. He asked me when I was raped.

"I had my suspicions about it."

"What do you mean?"

"Just from you talking about all this fundraiser and non-profit stuff you're doing. It's not a big deal to the guys... They're not going to care or anything. I mean, I'm sure it's a big deal to you, but it's okay to let the other guys know if you want."

"I know. I have no doubt that everyone has their 'suspicions' about it happening, but I just don't want to say anything yet. I know they're not going to care, especially since I'm sure you guys already kind of knew anyway, but I just don't think I need to really say anything about it."

"You're not ready to come out of the closet yet, huh?"

"I don't know if it's even that. I just don't feel like it. I will eventually, I don't know..."

"Okay. I mean, of course I'm not going to say anything, but okay."

And that was it. I was kind of bugged the rest of the afternoon by all of this. I was weirded out that I told my coworker I was raped. But I reached my limit with his jokes. I had to say something. I've been wanting to let these guys know that there are certain things that do make me uncomfortable. Not in a bad way. Not in a personal way. It's just how certain things make me feel now. I'm not mad at them or believe they're mean or anything... I'm still getting to know all the ways my rape changed my life. Communicating with men is a huge struggle for me... I can't believe I told Bob to shut the fuck up, but in a very polite, cool and no-drama kind of way.

I guess I am moving forward by finally learning how to face my fears... a few years ago, I would've just quit this job and forgotten about it.

Maybe the worst is really over. Maybe I just had to experience all of the bad stuff from the time I was born until now. And from here on out, all I have left is really good stuff. It has to be that way because it has to even out in the end... you have to go through the bad to get to the good.

Survivors Can Thrive!: The Blog Carnival Is Hitting The Road

Survivors Can Thrive!: The Blog Carnival Is Hitting The Road

Please check out the Blog Carnival details. I missed it the first round, but plan on participating for every carnival here on out. Deadline is August 16th.

PS - Bear with me... I have many sites to add to my sidebar, just haven't had time to do it yet. So thanks to everyone who has supported my blog by linking this one to theirs. I promise I am in the process of linking you to mine! :)

Doing Pretty Great!

I started to post a comment on Marj's blog last night, but it ended up turning into such a long-winded stoned rambling session that I just didn't go through with it! I just couldn't stop writing because once again, Marj & I are on the same page with raising awareness. As I started to write, the words started to pour out of me. I wanted to yell how great I've been feeling since telling the truth about my rape. Here it is:

Hey Marj - Just got your comment on my blog and popped over immediately. I am SO proud of you! Reading your secret brought tears to my eyes, but it's so cleansing and refreshing to release all of that pain & turmoil. Telling the truth is REALLY scary... doing something like this is right along the same path of where my heads been lately.

I've been so consumed with so many different aspects of my rape & getting to know myself again because I've been too disconnected for too long. And that's why I haven't posted much lately... weird life situations have really been forcing me to take a long, hard look at my rape, and my life before and after... & who I am now because of everything I've experienced.

But I realized something this last weekend:

I don't think I've ever been happier in my life. It wasn't until I started to shout my rape to the world that I started to feel so alive and "human" again. I admit I was was freaking out in the beginning. Remember what we emailed about? It was a really, really scary situation - and completely testing. I was determined to not be sought after and invaded again. I think (hope!) the worst is over... I definitely learned a shitload about myself - my boundaries, my fears, my paranoias, my instinct, my strength.

Connecting with other survivors has been so rewarding already that I can't wait until things start rolling on the non-profit, fundraiser & retreat center. It's going to be amazing to help others release their internal cancer and enjoy their lives again.

Don't get me wrong - I still have flashbacks and fears, rough days and nightmare-filled nights. But I just have to take it as it comes. It's a process. HEALING IS A PROCESS. Just like it takes time for a cut to heal, so it does for the heart.

It's so life-altering to survive the rape and abuse we have all survived. No one can really, truly understand how painful and damaging it is unless they've been through it. No wonder it's so scary to admit it's even happened at all, and why we suppress so much of it... even why we deny ourselves the truth for so many years. The most shocking truth above all is that it happens more than we know, like you said.

I never reported my rape. And my parents still don't know it happened.

It's really scary to tell the truth, but telling the truth is the best thing I can do. I don't care what people think of me. I'm not the only one who has survived really fucked up shit. You, my readers, friends & supporters, are my greatest evidence of that.

I'm creating a website to raise awareness and begin advertising for all of our projects. On this website, I'm going to have a designated area for survivor stories... a place where survivors can share their experience, learn about our projects (if they'd like to participate in something proactive now or later), and most importantly, feel validated as they read others' stories. I just want survivors to see that we are stronger than we feel - we've already survived one of the scariest life experiences. And some people don't survive.

My main focus right now is to create a hub for all survivors to meet and brainstorm... much like many other sites out there! I have connected with so many survivors already, which would've never happened if I hadn't told the truth about my rape. This truth business is pretty fucking scary, but in the end, it's the only thing that keeps you real, honest and HUMAN.

I'm still brainstorming all the things I'd like to include on my website, which is another reason I've been smoking so much. Eventually, I'd love to link all of my survivor friends & supporters from this blog to another section dedicated to online survivor journals or something. (Go to my post: "Survivors, Tell Me Your Story" a few posts down.) I can't begin to describe how incredibly healing it's been for me to read the words of other survivors.

I'm not alone.

And neither are you.

Why I Run...

Running has been my favorite outlet since high school. I used to always leave the house and go for a long run when I didn't want to be around my dad... which was usually after a bad night. And especially after I was raped, running and writing became my ONLY outlets. But I think I might need surgery on my knee, so running has been difficult the last few years. Usually a mile or so into my run, my knee locks and I can barely walk. I end up limping like a dipshit all the way back home. And to this day, after running five to ten miles a day for 12 years, I still don't know if I was running away from something or running towards it.

Yeah, I know - random running story. Just smoked to fall back asleep... been up for two hours already - how frustrating!

Another ex-boyfriend called me out of the blue yesterday. Questions Fanatic. I forgot about him (a good thing), until his call. He lives out of town but was in my neighborhood for a musician friend's show. I didn't call him back. A friend is having a pool party this weekend... there is a very good chance Questions Fanatic will be there since he's in the same group of friends - I didn't even think about this until he called me. Now I don't even want to go to this party - I just don't really like being around him. He makes me feel "icky." And if we're drinking together, we usually end up hooking up. Even though it's been a year since I've seen him, I don't want to leave any room to keep making that mistake. And yes, he's a mistake.

I'm smoking so much pot lately because Life is really fucking weird right now. I can't even get into right now because - thank God! - I'm falling back asleep. Hopefully I can catch another two hours before my alarm pisses me off...

Trouble w/the Ex

He emailed me a few months ago telling me he doesn't want us to ever lose touch because we're too important to each other.

UH... what the fuck?!

I've never fallen in love before, but if I had to chose someone I thought I could fall in love with, it would definitely be him. No one has ever been as gentle and caring with me as he was. I emailed him at the start of the year wondering how things were going with his girl, asking how in love with her he was. (I was tired of this lingering contact - just needed to know if I was wasting my time.) It took him a while to get back to me, but his response was exactly what I expected: He's in love with her and things are going very well.

I received this/his email two days after my grandma died. I really just didn't give a shit about him after that. I was already in a very weird place with her dying and things going on with the family... I was reluctant to read it, but I knew I needed to in order to put it all behind me.

I never responded - he has no need for me in his life anymore. So he emailed me again saying it seems we're losing touch and he doesn't want that because we mean too much to each other. And he thinks I'm very "interesting and insightful." And you come across very few people who touch your life the way I've touched his, and he just doesn't want this to end...

Again... what the fuck?

I don't get it. I'm a sucker for chasing after something/someone I can't have. I'm tired of it. And I'm even more tired of these guys wanting me to hang around because they don't want to lose touch for whatever reason, but they don't want to be with me in "that way." And I quoted that because this is how it's been working lately: It's okay for us to have sex and only see each other to have sex, but beyond that it's just impossible, but let's not ever lose touch. Translation: I still need to get laid so don't go anywhere.

God, I sound irritated, don't I? I am. I've been thinking about my ex a lot lately. I don't know if it's because my three best friends are getting married in a row or because I genuinely miss that guy. But it seemed too good be true, and my life was so fucked up at the time - getting kicked out of the house, revisiting "the scene of the crime"... I don't know... we were too scared/stupid and not adult enough to talk about anything before he moved away. So much was left unsaid. And I think that's why our contact is still there, but always so random and just kind of lingering for no particular reason at all... just hoping for... I don't know what.

Random rambling yet again... I miss him so much, but I'm also so tired of opening a door to someone, giving them the benefit of the doubt, and still feeling like a fool in the end.

So I just deleted someone else I really care about.

That's a fantastic way to deal with matters of the heart, isn't it? Just turn around and run away... right after I smoke another bowl, of course.

Early AM Ramblings:

“When you want to fool the world, tell the truth.” Otto von Bismarck

I have to quit smoking so much pot. I don't understand why I keep on avoiding my real life by living it in a hazy, foggy blurry daze. Even when I'm at work, I wish I was baked. I just don't want to deal with much these days. I just want to party. I just want to celebrate nonstop with my best friends because I can't shake this feeling that everything's changing and time's running out. Why do I feel so rushed? I can't really explain this internal shift I've been going through for so long now. Just doing a shitload of soul-searching. Doing nothing lately but smoking and thinking about... well, my life, really. It's because the 10 year anniversary is around the corner.

What was my life like 10 years ago? Who was I at the time? How would my life be different now if I was in a safe enough situation to tell family/friends the truth? How would I be different? I'm not dwelling or beating myself up. I'm just curious. Just when I thought I was ready to sit down and start writing my story for publication, everything started to shift inside of me.

It's a very powerful feeling, this "internal shift" I'm going through. It feels like the light is finally beginning to peek through this dark black hole I've been falling through for years. I'm kind of starting to feel validated and real again. I mean, I always knew I had every right to feel those things before, but it's different when you feel like you've been living multiple lives... in secret. The more torn you feel, the more drained and troubled your heart gets. Experiences like rape, incest, sexual abuse/assault do more than cross our path... they crash into our path. Every little invisible atom of our being is grinded to the core. We're left shattered, confused, angry, hurt, beaten, lost.

I don't know what else to say, except... I can't believe it's been 10 years since I was raped.

Do you know what that does to a person? Holding in such a big, traumatic, painful secret for so many years?

I don't know either... no wonder I'm smoking so much lately...

Random Thought:

A best friend is getting married in less then two months, and I couldn't be happier. I am SO excited and flattered to be a part of her big day. I mean, this shit's apparently a really big deal. I don't consider myself a girly girl by any means - I have NEVER thought about my wedding, marriage or anything of the sort. I don't know... all of that settling down stuff really freaks me out.

Except here's the flipside of all that. As excited and thrilled as I am to celebrate with my best friends nonstop for the next two months, it's kind of really hitting my heart a little hard that: Getting to this point in my life with someone seems so impossible and hopeless. I know that sounds really depressing, but I've reached such a point that I don't even trust my own family anymore. I mean, would you after your cousin aired your rape to people she shouldn't?... and said you were having trouble sleeping because of your "cocaine withdrawals"?... yeah, she had me kicked out her house after that. That was the day I drove back to the house I was raped in. I don't remember the drive... I don't remember what really happened before that... I was just there. Sitting in front of that house.

Wow. I haven't thought about that day in a long time.

The 10th anniversary of my rape is coming up. I'm silently starting to freak out. It feels weird that it's taken me 10 years to admit I was raped. It's taken me 10 years to not feel ashamed of what happened to me...

Stoned rambling aside... I can't believe my birthday and this huge anniversary is around the corner. I have no idea how I'm going to celebrate this birthday, but I'm definitely going BIG. I deserve it. Fuck Jay.

Survivors, Tell Me Your Story

I'd like to begin compiling survivor stories from around the world.

Or if you know a rape/sexual abuse survivor, I beg you to give them a voice and tell their story, too. I need as many truths as I can get...

I will not edit or change one thing. Think of this is your way of being heard. I won't adjust punctuation, spell-check, or add/delete anything. This is YOUR story, YOUR words, YOUR heart on "paper." You have the right to tell your story however you wish.

And I think it would be extremely therapeutic for other survivors to see that we are not alone, despite how many millions of times a day we feel it...

You can tell me your story via a comment below, or you can email me: rapedlostalone@yahoo.com

Thanks in advance for sharing :)

Much Love,
The Missing Link

Strange Days...

Everything has been really, really strange lately. Not really sure how to describe it. I tried to go back to counseling. But I'm not going back after only two sessions - and even those were five weeks apart! I can't really explain what's going on. Everything is very confusing and scary, but very exciting and alive... does that make sense?

I still haven't talked to my family since she died. I don't really know what to say to any of them. And I really don't feel like seeing them, either. Not that I'm angry or bitter... I just don't really care anymore. Harsh? Yeah, I know. I think so, too. But I can't help it, really. I'm about as fed up with how they treat each other that I just can't be around it for a while. I have enough on my plate as it is. I don't need other people's drama on top of it... and it just breaks my heart that she had to always be buried in it, as sick as she was, as painful as her disease was for her...

I'm just not ready to walk back into that house again... not after what happened the night of her funeral. I still haven't spoken a word to my dad or grandpa. It's been almost 4 months now. Damn... time sure does fly by, doesn't it? It's not that I'm intentionally holding out on my family at all. I'm just not ready to see them. I'm not going to force myself to be in a situation I already know is going to cause me mental and emotional stress. I'll know when I'm ready to go back there. Soon... I promise... maybe...

I don't know... I'm rambling. I'm high. Just smoked a bowl.

I've been smoking a lot lately. I can't really figure out if it's because I'm secretly freaked out about exposing my rape to everyone or because I'm avoiding writing my book.

I don't know what's going to come out.

Yeah... just been smoking a lot to calm my nerves. I've been really anxious and impatient lately. It's like I can feel everything still shifting in my life and I just want it to rest already. I just want to - for one minute, for one day - stop shifting.

... just want the world to rest.

Confusing Questions:

I've started advertising for the fundraiser and retreat center. (The fundraiser just being a small, starter kind to begin prepping for the big Farm-Aid type in the future.)

I don't know if it's really going to happen, like I've mentioned before, but I've put it out there to everyone I do and don't know via another anonymous site (but including photos of myself). So this is my experience and this is what I'm doing to help other survivors.

I posted the below message on my other site asking them to join my volunteer group:

May 29, 2006
7:42 PM

I think I might have "invited" you guys already, I don't know... but I created a volunteer group for anyone/everyone that can help me with this stuff. I hope you guys are all in, even if I haven't seen you in forever. And if it has been years, then at least now you know why... just trying to get my life back somehow... and it sure as hell doesn't happen overnight.

The group name: ---

... so please join if you can help. And if you're a band, I hope you'll join in hopes of playing at the event mentioned below...

Thinking about having a big concert here in -- . There is tons of room to make a lot of stuff happen. And I hope you don't mind the location, considering its right across the beach... I know, tough, isn't it?

Not this year, though - thinking Sept. . 07, the first weekend after school starts in the fall. Students will be back in town and this will be a great way to start the school year... lots of music and events to raise $$ and awareness for this. (I plan to sell "admission" tickets to raise funds. I cant remember if --- is free or not, but similar to that, but bigger and better... I hope...)

Maybe I'm just sending everyone on a wild goose chase with this shit... or maybe I'm just trying to force some kind of greater purpose onto why I was raped. But whatever the case, if I can make it happen, then that would be really fucking great. If I cant make it happen, then fuck it - I at least tried, didn't I?? As far as im concerned, I've got nothing more to lose...

So, my rambling aside, hope you can help, everyone...

Much Love
xo

PS - On a lighter note, I spent the day at the beach today and got sunburned. (I know, since when the hell do I get sunburned??!) So now I'm brown and red. Does that make me medium-rare? Damn...


A random guy contacted me to volunteer. We initially emailed once or twice about him helping me with getting a little website started up. But he's the same one I became a little weirded out by and don't want help from anymore. He emailed me the below questions regarding my rape. I'm confused. I don't plan on responding, but they are questions I've been asking myself ever since I "exposed" my rape to everyone.

I really don't think that these people, my friends included who now know I was raped, understand how this experience changes every little ounce of your being. It fucks up how you perceive the world and your place in it, how you relate to everyone, how you communicate to friends and strangers...

I picked up my pot again last night - was getting too weirded out by how exposed I am now. Just needed to smoke and think...

And last night, while I was baked again, I started to realize (and maybe I've mentioned this before) that maybe I'm advertising to do all of this only as a way to finally not hide from my rape anymore. Maybe I can't even make any of this happen. Maybe I should just delete that site and go on with life as usual - as if nothing is wrong, as if I'm totally & completely content, as if I am a normal human living any old life.

But that's not how I really feel...

I REALLY feel like I HAVE to do all of this for some unexplainable reason, and I will make it happen. I don't know... or maybe I AM just using this as an excuse to "shout" out my experience so I'm not hiding anymore...

Anyhow, here are his questions. I am so confused with what the point is to any of this. I don't care if people even know anymore. There are millions of girls and women who are hiding this inside of them, like me. I am just confused with why I feel so pulled into doing all of this... and scared and knowing that I AM doing all of this... Every since the moment I was raped, lying there knowing what just happened - and also knowing I could never tell anyone - I knew I would do whatever it took so other survivors didn't have to survive alone... like me.

There is no worse feeling that feeling like you are just broken pieces all alone in a world of matching wholes.

From the random guy who wants to help:

Jun 3, 2006
2:40 AM
Subject: RE: Need your help

Sunburns! Nice work. Summer is here! I think I already have one of the hallmarks of the days of sun and beach fun: an aberrant blonde eyebrow or two, this from a three day weekend of basking about by the catamarans on the beach. Ah, how I remember the college years... blonde streaks in my hair, sun bleached eyebrows, emblems of indolence... but those days are gone, fallen into the past, a Shangrila of youth. But while still on the subject, have you ever been to Baja? Your trips to the islands were probably the same, but coming back from Baja, which equals a multitude of days out in the open sun, I remember how my arms turned a shade of blonde... blonde arm hairs. Fun! Someday again...

Anywho, perhaps this is rude, and apologies if it is, but I wish to probe you some with questions. It's partly because of what I studied in school, but more just wanting to understand people (which is probably why I studied what I did). So you were raped. You're very open about it, which is good. An ex-girlfriend of mine had herpies, and she was just in denial/repress mode about the whole thing. Not in that she didn't tell me beforehand, which to her credit was an incredibly mature and brave thing to do, but just in that she didn't study or want to understand what herpies was... and what it wasn't. She supressed it. The dirt bag guy that gave it to her didn't tell her he had it beforehand. That's f'n dirty. I didn't think it was healthy for her to not be able to talk about it much; she was actually annoyed when I researched it (having an obvious vested interest in wanting to know more), and spoke to her of it. I think it ate away at her some...

You seem to have taken the opposite tact in such deeply affecting matters which perhaps also carry a social taboo to some, being completely open to what happened to you. I personally am abhorrent that rape exists in the world, it's just a disgusting sort of person who would do it, someone who obviously is damaged inside, and think it's great that you are so open about it. I've only known one other person who confided to being raped to me, and she didn't even tell her sister about it. I'm sure it's terrible to know just how many girls it's happened to...

My questions to you are more on why you are being so outspoken about it, why you are trying to form your own groups about it. Is this you just acting out on yourself, or have you talked to a therapist about all of this (for god's sake I hope so! I've seen one about much more trivial matters... and learned something)? Is therapy playing a part in what you are doing? There are a lot of rape awareness groups out there already, I imagine, I'm just wondering why you are doing your own thing...

My second question to you had to do with you you phrased your last bulletin. You said you were just trying find greater purpose into 'why you were raped.' Why? Do you think there is really a why? A 'why' connotates that you think things happen for a reason, that you were raped for a reason, that there is a greater power at work here and that this was a pre-ordained event... that it was meant to be. Personally, I think that's crap. This is of course all based on very little knowledge of you, only some pictures and writing samples, but I'm guessing what happened to you was not a 'personal' thing, it wasn't because of who you are. I think it was some sick-fuck who raped you, period. No rhyme or reason, no purpose, just male animalistic sexual drive (which all men, and women have... we are just animals) that was completely unrestrained by the bonds of civilized society. A deviant. Basically, a dirt bag. It wasn't a personal thing against you, it was just a thing. Your writings almost make it sound as if your identity is centered around a 'rape survivor.' Something tells me you are considerably more than this... that this isn't the source of who you are.

Again, apologies if I'm just being completely out of line here, but I feel you being so open makes it ok for me to be so as well. Maybe this is one of the 'good things' about such an impersonal place such as -- !

Ok, that's it for now. I hope you have a terrific weekend! And I'm totally available if you ever need help/advice on web related stuff.

Off to slumber land...


Not really sure how to react/respond to this. Those are the same questions I've been asking myself for so long now. I'm afraid I can't answer them... so then what the fuck am I really doing with all of this?

Do I really center my identity around being a "rape survivor"? If I haven't known any other life, then isn't this my only identity thus far?

I'm so completely and utterly confused...

Going to take a shower, smoke a bowl and go the beach... just need to be left alone to think... or not think at all, for that matter...

A Favorite:

"Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, some day far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."

- Rilke

SNAP OUT OF IT!

I need to snap out of whatever is going on with me lately.

What's going on with me?

I am totally and completely frozen in fear of pursuing my ultimate dream: Writing.

I have been having such twisted and fucked up physical reactions to the flashbacks while writing that I am just too damn drained and tired to attempt it anymore. I know it will get better and easier, but I just have to snap out of it.

What am I so scared of?

I have had, literally, been suffocating when a memory runs me over or when I have a flashback. Especially the things that I have shut out for so many years. When these things begin to spill out of me, I freak out and can't breathe. A few weeks ago, I was hyperventilating so bad & getting so scared that I had to walk around my house and talk myself through each step... I had to talk out loud about what I was seeing and what I was doing: "There's my table. That's my laptop. I'm walking into the kitchen. I am at my house. I am 27 years old. I am single. I am a sister. I am a daughter. There is my car insurance bill..." I know it sounds crazy, but I had to say everything out loud in order to pull myself out of my past - away from Jay raping me again - and back into the present.

Writing has never been that scary for me before. That panic attack wiped me out. I brushed my teeth and went to bed after I was able to breathe more calmly.

I just have to snap out of it.

I know I am having a very strange time with my grandma's death, but death is just a part of life. I have lost many friends at such a young age. But my grandma is one of the most difficult to process, especially since we were so close... I was closer to her than to my own mom. And I feel guilty for not talking to my family since she died... I just need to be left alone.

Another fear: I will be alone forever.

It is much easier to live my complicated and crazy life alone than attempting another relationship. I am tired of "trying and failing" in that department. More than that, I am tired of not being able to be my entire self, rape included, around my boyfriend. I have always had to hide a part of my life with every boyfriend I have had. And when I feel comfortable enough to open up, which takes me a VERY long time, something immediately changes with how he relates to me. And then it's over.

I'm tired of feeling like I've done something wrong in every relationship I've had.

All of my struggles, paranoias, fears, confusions - they are all valid and real. They are not easy to deal with. I admit this. I admit I can be a handful sometimes. But fuck it. I have more than enough reason to be scared. I am completely justified in needing to be left alone sometimes. I have a right to say no to anything whenever I feel like saying no.

Having a relationship with someone who has been through all the shit we (survivors) have been through is not easy. You have to really care about every ounce of our entire being to stick with us through the bad and real bad. And it will always get worse before it gets better. It's always just ended when it's gotten worse for me. They never let it get better... mostly because I completely withdraw and shut down when I don't know what to do... especially if I really, truly care about someone.

I am in a very weird place in my life right now. I feel like everything is all or nothing. I feel like this is kind of my only chance to make something of myself, to make something of my life, to wholeheartedly and 1,000% make my dreams a reality. And I know I can do it if I just stay focused and remember how badly my heart wants all of this: The Survivor Retreat Center, the fundraiser, the non-profit, the writing career...

And I've noticed that when I meet attractive guys I enjoy flirting with/talking to, I want to bail once it gets to the point where he becomes a "real person" instead of just a "fun flirtation." I talk myself into belieiving it's easier to never see him again, to just drop everything before he can hurt me. God knows I have a hell of a time trusting anyone anymore... I begin to panic with how he will react to what my life is REALLY like - the rape, the family, the drugs, the suicide attempts...

I mean, come on... I'm not exactly the kind of girl you take home to Mom. But I look like it.

Maybe that's another reason I'm too scared to get close to someone I really care about: Because I'm not what I seem. I feel like I'm just a big lie. I feel like I'm just lying to everyone all of the time.

Why am I so hard on myself? I don't know...

I guess old habits die hard - I might be bailing on someone I really care about... and I don't even know why. I'm just having a weird time getting things back in order. I sometimes feel like Life is so out of order that I don't even know where to begin anymore...

So maybe that's how you know I really like you - if everything is hunky dorey and I just vanish into thin air.

So, dear readers, don't take it personal I've been wanting to bail on this whole blogging business. According to my theory, it just means I really care about you.

I'm tired of rambling about stupid nonsense. I'm just agitated and cranky with feeling like nothing is working out according to my "plan."

So fuck it. Fuck my plans.

Plan to have no plans.

"Every possibility is elegantly disguised as a problem."

I just have to snap out of it, dammit.

For the love of God, just snap out of it already...

You Will Never Understand

I can't explain it.

There are no words for how I feel.

Lost and alone is sugar-coating it.

I feel deserted. Disconnected. Murdered.

I miss my innocence. I miss having a "real" family, whatever that means. I miss waking up and looking forward to the excitements of a new day.

I don't know how to stop the dark thoughts in my head. They are rapidly infesting my mind like a cancer. Maybe I'm a cancer. Maybe my rape is a cancer. Maybe I am too obsessive and too analytical to let it go. Maybe I'm holding onto it because I'm afraid of what will happen to me if I let it go.

I can't believe I just wrote that.

MAYBE I'M HOLDING ONTO IT BECAUSE I'M AFRAID OF WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO ME IF I LET IT GO.

Letting go of the only life I have ever known means starting over... yet again.

How many times must I "start over" in order to "move on"?

I don't know what else needs to change so my heart can gain whatever she needs in order to breathe again.

I am remembering everyone I have unintentionally hurt because I was hurting too much inside.

I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I loved you and let you go because I don't know how to love.

LOVE: Something I see flourishing all around me, yet something so foreign and blinding when I'm standing right in front of it... so I turn around and run the other way. Because the bad is what is normal. It's what I know. It's what I can live with. The good is new and scary. I turn into that little girl that was raped. That little girl who crawled into a hole during her rape. That little girl I abandoned years ago because she wasn't strong enough to fight a few more minutes or yell a little louder.

I know it's not my fault. I know I did everything in my power to prevent what was my fate. Except my heart doesn't feel it. My heart doesn't even feel responsible or guilty. She doesn't feel at all.

She is a newborn caught in a 100 year old body. Everything is disconnected and malfunctioning. Nothing inside of me is working right. Maybe the only way to end this is to end my life forever. I can donate pieces of myself to those in need.

I'm made up of leftovers anyway.

Never fully connecting and matching right to make a whole human being.

Just pieced and scotch-taped together until I fall apart. But the tape starts to wear off from too many tears falling at each seam.

I'm coming undone.

I'm afraid this is it...

I was raped. My best friends have died. My grandma is now dead, the only home my heart has ever known her entire broken and beaten life. And the only thought whirlpooling around my internal tears is:

What's left of a leftover once it falls apart?

A Little Weirded Out...

So I've been working pretty hard advertising for all of our stuff... The Farm-Aid type concert, the Non-Profit, and our Survivor Retreat Center. I started another anonymous site (but have photos of myself posted) via the suggestion of a best friend to start spreading the word. In the basic intro of this weird little site, I've included the cold hard truth of my rape being the reason I am doing all of this. I've sent this site to all of my friends to gain support... so now basically everyone I know is now well informed of my rape, including any randoms that happen to linger over to my site by chance.

Talk about full exposure.

I don't consciously plan my next step with any of this work... It just happens. I can be doing one thing one minute, and then I will totally switch gears and jump on a new idea the next minute. It's almost as if there is something deep down inside of me pulling me to do all of this. And more than that, I know if I try hard enough, I can really make it happen... WE can make it all happen.

But I get weirded out sometimes while in the heart of my work. I wonder if I'm just in WAY over my head here. I wonder if I am subconsciously putting my rape out there to everyone I know so I don't feel like I'm hiding anymore, so I can be 100% myself no matter who or what. A really good friend of mine even called to talk to me about my rape (he didn't know about it before reading my site). He asked when it happened and who it was. I broke it down for him. He asked how all of this came about (the non-profit, fundraiser & retreat center) and I told him I'm working with other survivors around the world to make this happen - that we are all anonymously connected through our blog sites. And when I mentioned that I have NO idea how I'm actually going to do all of this, he interrupted me and said, "You ARE doing it. Right here. This is it."

That keeps replaying in my mind over and over anytime I get discouraged or ovewhelmed with what my life is.

I am doing this, not just hoping, wishing and wondering. And all I can do is try. So that's what I'm doing. I'm just trying to help other survivors, just trying to raise awareness and provide for them what I never had.

And so through this other site I started, some guy contacted me to volunteer. When I mentioned I still need to get my website up and running, he offered to host it for free and set it all up for our fundraiser and retreat center however we want. He seems nice enough, and I definitely need the help, but I just want help with the website - that's all. NOTHING ELSE. And now I'm just getting kind of weirded out with this guy a little... he emailed me his number and to meet up at his boat if I was bored today... uh, what the fuck?! I admit I did suggest earlier we should meet to discuss the details of this website, but I mean all business, man... no pleasure here... definintely NO pleasure. He seems harmless enough, but... uh... I just need the website done, buddy. That's all... so now I doubt I'm going to respond or contact him again... so there's goes a free website, I guess.

Just knowing I am totally and completely exposed to everyone is pretty fucking scary. Everyone has been very supportive, but they can never understand how awkward and confusing this can be...

I feel like I'm at the end of my rope with everything these days. I think about my grandma all of the time and want nothing more than to just spend another weekend with her. But I know that's not possible. I know she's gone. I have every memory of her death in my head, in addition to replaying my rape over and over again because I just don't know where to go, what to do, or who I am anymore. I want to spend time with my family, I want to see my cousins, I want to barbecue and drink beers with my uncles and aunts, but I just can't go back there yet. And it kills me. It's crushing me that I feel like I really don't even have a family anymore.

I know that's not the case at all. I know they love more that I know - I'm the first granddaughter, the aspiring writer, the social butterfly who is always the life of every party and dinner and event, just like my brother. I feel like my brother and I are the core of our family in some kind of weird way. Maybe it's because we're the oldest, maybe because we've been through so much with our families already, maybe it's because we always see the bigger picture and do what's best for everyone. But I feel like I've kind of given up on my family lately... I don't know why. Family should be the one thing I should be able to count on, right? Family should be the one place I can always go to for safety, comfort and support... I do love each and every one of them more than anything, but I guess I'm just confused with my "place" since she died... I don't know how to explain it...

I'm rambling... I know. I do that a lot.

I don't know what's more confusing for me... actively working on our fundraiser and retreat center projects or feeling like I've just given up on my entire life as I know it... maybe that's why I'm working on this fundraiser/retreat center stuff - to trick myself into believing I have some kind of greater purpose... to force some kind of answer on why I was raped... to make myself believe that the world does need me...

Aw fuck it...

I don't know what the fuck I'm even talking about anymore...

I Need A Change

Something needs to change and it needs to happen real soon. I'm at the end of my rope with everything these days. I'm flustered, rattled, confused, agitated, frustrated, numb, drained, stuck.

I feel like the world is secretly making her plans for me without me. What about the plans I have for myself? Why isn't anything panning out? Haven't I paid my dues? Don't I deserve some kind of break already? Why do I feel like the world has me ON HOLD? What are you making me hold for?

I've been searching for jobs elsewhere - nothing. I've been searching for another place to move into - nothing. I've been trying to get the word out about our fundraiser, retreat center and non-profit and instead of feeling so proud and alive that I'm doing all of this, I feel like I'm in way over my head with these "pipe dreams." I've been trying to sit down and get my writing out to agents and publishers - nothing.

Am I standing in my own way? What the fuck is going on? Why can't I get to the next level? The next step? The other side? What else do I need to do?? Aren't I doing it already??

What the fuck am I missing here???

Fuck it.

I'm just pissed and frustrated all over again.

And what would I do whenever I felt like this in the past? I'd spend the weekend with her. But she's dead now.

So fuck everything all over again. Now I'm more pissed and more frustrated. Something else that's out of my reach.

DAMN IT.

I just need to run away somewhere, disappear from everyone and everything until I feel like returning. IF I ever feel like returning.

I need to run away to our Survivor Retreat Center.

I feel like I'm being held back from everything I'm trying to accomplish.

Fuck the world right now.

Wish

I don't know what's going on with me lately...

It's been hitting me really hard that she's dead. I've had a really long and hard week - unfocused and agitated at work, so exhausted I can hardly move, and so distracted that I'm not even paying attention when driving. I feel like I'm so mentally fucked up that I shouldn't be, literally, operating a moving vehicle.

I know my life is exactly where it needs to be right now. I know I am doing really good on the outside. I have a steady job where my bosses recognize, appreciate and compensate for my hard work and effort... although I'm still weirded out by one male co-worker (still don't know how to deal with this). I have a great living situation where I'm renting from a family who is constantly looking out and taking care of me... except now I feel like I've "outgrown" this place. I've paid off my DUI and that whole legal mess... except I still do stupid things I know I shouldn't, and getting caught again will really fuck shit up. I want to go back to counseling so I can learn how to be happy with myself and my life again... but if I hear myself say everything I need to say, then it means it really happened. I (eventually) want a strong and safe lifelong commitment with a man who teaches me what REAL love is all about... but I don't know how I can possible learn if I am scared of men, commitment and happiness.

I connected with a counselor yesterday. I finally returned her call during a rare, "Of course I can do this," moment one afternoon. I explained how reluctant I am with returning to counseling and I don't even know why. This is the most I have ever resisted. But there is a part of me that knows I need to at least try it again for some reason. That's one thing about myself I do appreciate: No matter what, I will (eventually) try everything. It may take me a while to meet you there, but I'll eventually make my way around. Just don't push me, otherwise I'll run for sure and never return. I just have to wait until I'm good and ready. And I know I'm ready when I'm not lost wondering whether or not I'm ready... if that makes sense.

I don't even know what else to say except: I've always felt like I've been trying to live one life as two separate people. I'm my NORMAL self - the social butterfly, the planner & coordinator, the witty, sarcastic and fun girl who loves to meet new people and try new things. And then I'm my SECRET self - the rape survivor, the daughter of an alcoholic dad (he's not like that anymore but I still find myself very hurt and angry about my childhood), the one who has been so emotionally shut down for so long that any feeling at all is totally new and foreign, especially the good ones.

I'm tired of being two different people trying to live one peaceful life.

I see my best girlfriends finally gain their "true happiness" after finding their one "true love." And so then I wonder, maybe all I'm missing is that one guy who shows me how valuable and important my life really is. But then I remember how I could have had all that... he was right there, asking me for the rest of my life and I said no. I could've run away with him. I could've let him "save" me like he wanted. He wanted to give me a new life separate from my rape. I could be married right now, maybe even starting a family. If that's all my girls needed to find their place in their world, then shouldn't that be enough for me?

No way. I'm not like them. I've always been different.

They weren't raped. They didn't grow up with a father like mine. They didn't spend Friday and Saturday nights wrestling their mom away from their drunken dad. They didn't push butcher knives into their stomach to experiment how long until it hurt. They didn't swear to God, just seconds after they were beaten, that they would NEVER rely on a man to EVER take care of them... especially if this was the kind of care a man was capable of.

I'm just rambling now - evidence of how chaotic my head has been with what to do with myself and my life. I know things will work themselves out and I just have to be patient. But I'm getting pretty impatient with being patient. Despite the fact that I am, logically, setting up nicely for my future, I am still unsatisfied with the little things: I wish I wasn't alone, I wish I had a bigger place to entertain friends and celebrations, I wish I could jumpstart my writing career, I wish I always didn't feel so dirty, I wish I could look in the mirror without disgust and hatred, I wish I was more motivated and disciplined, I wish... I was just content with who I am and what my life is.

NO!!

DO NOT edit my shit.

Some fucker hacked into my blog and messed with my shit.

I'm pissed.

DON'T FUCKING DO IT AGAIN.

That's what the comments portion and my email address is for, you moron.

As if writing about my rape and all of this shit isn't hard enough already, I come to find out that part of it isn't even what I wrote.

Respect my courage and bravery to share this with you.

DO NOT EDIT MY FEELINGS, THOUGHTS, PAINS, ANGERS, CONFUSIONS...

They are mine.

DO NOT take this away from me.

Leave me alone.

NOW I REALLY WANT TO BAIL ON THIS BLOG SHIT ONCE AND FOR ALL.

Agree or Disagree?

Book: Recovery
Author: Helen Benedict

Recent studies have shown that the speed with which you recover from rape depends primarily on two things: how you regard what happened to you and how supportive the people close to you are. The circumstances of the rape - who did it, how brutal it was, where and when it happened - don't seem to affect how fast you get better.

How I regard what happened to me:
Fuck him. I looked for a gun in his room that night. I would've killed him, you know. I am dirty, contaminated, disgusting and weak.

My support network after my rape:
I didn't have one. My rape is a secret. My parents still don't know I was raped. Three solid years flew by before I uttered the words to anyone. It was during sex with a friend of mine. Just before he entered me, I made him stop.

My circumstances:
WHO DID IT: Teammate of best friend's boyfriend.
BRUTALITY: It could have been much worse and violent. He didn't beat the shit out of me (I had my dad for that, remember?) but he was very angry, powerful and determined. He did whatever he could to get me right where he wanted me. His behavior and attitude throughout the night all made sense when he was raping me.
WHERE: His house. In his bedroom.
WHEN: My birthday. My party was at his house.

The circumstances of the rape don't seem to affect how fast you get better.

What the fuck does that mean??! Don't ALL of your circumstances affect your recovery?

DONE...?

I don't know if I want to do this blog stuff anymore. I keep getting comments and emails from readers who say I'm letting this stuff eat away at me, I'm dwelling, I'm acting like a victim, I need to start enjoying life, I need to learn how to find the good in everything... blah, blah, blah.

I'm tired of it.

I understand readers wanting to be supportive and helpful, but I am NOT doing any of the above. I am just reflecting and releasing my secrets - things that no one knows about.

If you think I walk around life moping, angry, bitter, etc., then you are wrong. This blog is a small part of who I am and what I do. But although small, it is probably the most important.

I'm confused with why I should even bother anymore.

Maybe I should say, Fuck it.

And just be done with it once and for all.

I'm tired of people telling me things like, I'm acting like a victim.

Whatever.

I'm not acting like a victim.

I am just being open about who I am and how I feel about such secret life things.

And I am trying to get published right now - that's why so many weird emotions are resurfacing. I'm just letting myself feel them for once.

So maybe I will just say, Fuck it.

And maybe fuck this blog, too.

I can't wait to finally move and change my number. Hopefully this next place works out... we'll see. But as soon as I'm all moved in, my fresh start begins.

I thought this blog would be helping me... but it just seems to be confusing me more.

I just want to delete it forever. Just erase any evidence of my "dwelling, crying victim, unable to find the good in life...."

And I'm not taking a few random comments/emails too personal, either. Just noticing a pattern lately.

Maybe I was all wrong in starting this blog.

Whatever.

I'm open to any thoughts, suggestions, advice, etc...

Later.

Heart Attack

Just rec'd a voice mail from my Mom.

My grandpa had a heart attack. The same grandpa who blamed my dad for so many things the night of her funeral. The same grandpa who said hurtful things to my aunts and uncles. The same grandpa who said to me, the night of her funeral - a little before shit hit the fan - that I was an embarrassment to the family because I was already this old and not married.

Uh, what the fuck?!?!

Whatever. You can't argue with a 90 year old man. He's always right. That's how it's always been in our family... I think he's going to die soon. He's been really sick off and on for the last few years. And now since she's gone, I think he's going to be more accepting of dying... I can't explain it. But I think he's going to start to give up a little.

Anyhow, I finally checked my email linked to my blog to find a few anonymous emails. They basically said they feel my pain to such a degree that they wish for nothing more but for me heal, move past everything, enjoy my life again...

And then I finally picked up my pot... while I was baked, I started to read over my previous posts. It just kind of hit me how incredibly depressing, heavy and plain fucked up this site is. I mean, is this REALLY my life? Are you kidding me??

Maybe I AM drowning myself in my past and unable to move on.

Nah.

I'm sorry.

I still disagree with all that.

How do you feel when you read all of my fucked up shit? Do you feel bad for me? Do you feel as fucked up and crazy as I feel when I'm writing this mess? Then good. Because that's exactly my point....

TO MAKE YOU FEEL THE SAME THINGS SO MANY WOMEN/SURVIVORS FEEL.

After all, survivors are everywhere. And so is rape, sexual assault, incest, abuse... you name it. It's such a taboo topic, something no one ever wants to talk about or confront.

My whole reasoning behind starting this blog:

1) Pull myself out of my writer's block. I haven't done any kind of writing whatsoever since completing my last writing project for college, a research paper I created for my last six units of credit, "Psychology of a Rape Survivor." Needless to say, I was a little fucked up while writing this paper... and utterly confused for a long time after that about who I was, where I was, what I wanted... I don't think I have totally pulled out of that yet.

2) To force myself to look deep inside to find my real story. I want - more than anything else in this world (even more than falling in real love) - to become a well-known & respected writer whose words are not only felt, but also heard. I deserve to be heard. And you need to listen.

3) I don't want to write about my rape or my dad's alcoholic fits or any of this blog content in what I am trying to publish. These are my life experiences but they are not my entire story. I don't know how to approach writing for publication right now. I am digging and digging to rid of any bad seeds until I have a clean slate, a fresh start, a new beginning. This blog is all about me purging my dirty little secrets because I don't want them to be a secret anymore... but I also don't want to make them public to those who know me. (Although I have given this address to a few who do know me, but that doesn't bother me anymore. The truth never hurt anyone, right?)

4) I am just trying to find my heart again. I am very intuitive and have such a strong gut feeling about things. Sometimes I feel like I know what's going to happen before it ever does. And most of the time, I'm right about it. Except lately I have had trouble with my intuition. Instead of listening to my heart, I have been yelling at her. I have been fighting with her nonstop. I have been fighting with myself, blaming myself for things I cannot change and am not responsible for happening. I have to get out of my own way. The writing on this site helps me to really dig down and yank out the infested parts of my heart and soul. I know these experiences will always be a part of my life. But maybe they just need to be cleaned up a little. Just a little wash and polish and I'll be fine in no time.

5) This is my release. I am the TOTAL opposite in my day to day living. I am outgoing, fun, sarcastic, love to go to new places, meet tons of new people, try new things... I am always pushing the limits and trying anything at least once. After all, life really is too short. And we only get one chance to live it, right?


But I'm think I'm still confused with why I am even bothering with any of this. Maybe I am intentionally pouring salt in my wounds because I NEED the pain and memories. Maybe a part of me feels like I MUST feel everything so deeply in order to find my real purpose on this planet. Maybe I should just stop writing about it, stop talking about it and really just, well, "get over it."

Shift

Everything is shifting right now. I know this is just how Life works but it feels different this time. It feels like anything can go this way or that. I am running blind through an open field, happily knowing there is nothing to stop me - I can run forever. Except I just can't see where the holes are... what if I trip and fall down one of these holes? Then what?

I'm scared.

There's someone at work who's made me uncomfortable since day one. It's weird stuff. I can't explain it. And I'm the only girl so it's strange for me to confront it... again. I confronted it when I first started but now there are little things I can pick up on that I know just don't make me feel right. Call it a woman's intuition. Strange and "playful" contact is sometimes made that I just DON'T like. I have a very playful and outgoing personality but I definately notice when I feel uncomfortable.

I am in a strange situation.

I'm irritated with my work situation. Everything else is fine... except this. And this just totally and completely spoils everything.

Everything is shifting. I am finding myself dreading work because I don't want to see his face or deal with anything that could secretely make me uncomfortable.

I feel stuck in so many different areas of my life.

I feel like so much is totally out of my control.

I feel like everything is shuffling and shifting beneath my feet as I am running blind.

Just for once, I want to feel whole and comfortable. That is all. It is a very simple request.

This writing is becoming too solid, definitive and heavy for me. I recognize it is very cathartic and therapeutic to write all of this down. But, at the same time, it is very numbingly painful.

Only because I have forgotten how to let myself feel anything anymore.

I did feel something that weekend, though. I just think I was alone in feeling it... I'm afraid this is it...

I don't have a fucking clue what is happening with anything.

I am just dreading seeing this man at work tomorrow. He made a strange comment this afternoon that made me stop in my tracks. The other guys didn't say much afterwards, either. I don't know if I misheard or what but either way, I just wanted to leave the fucking office and never return.

I checked the weather online this afternoon, too... where I live, where my brother lives and where she used to live, the one who recently died. I started to get excited at the thought of hanging out with her, sitting outside, swimming, etc. when it hit me like a ton of bricks: She is dead.

What an exhausting time I am having these days.

Although it would be comforting to finally know what he feels about our last night together, I almost don't want to ever know. It doesn't make sense for something to feel so good, scary and confusing all at the same time.

I don't even want to go to sleep because I don't know what work will be like tomorrow...

I don't know what anything will be like tomorrow.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

On Second Thought...

"Dying is a part of Life... I don't know if we each have a destiny. Or if we're all just floating around accidental-like, like a breeze. But I think maybe it's both. Maybe both can happen and live at the same time." Forrest Gump

Maybe it all doesn't even matter in the big picture of it all.

It is what it is.

I am who I am.

Yes, my life is heavy and it is filled with traumatic experiences.

And yes, there have been many who have witnessed the affects my experiences have had on me. Many have left because there was nothing they could do to help. I had to first help myself.

I hope I am finally helping myself this time. I want to be healthy again. I desperately want to be happy again. I desperately need to feel comfortable in my own skin again, Jay's fingerprints and all.

But my heavy experiences are not my entire life. I am only in my twenties. I have years and years ahead of me. And maybe I just lived the really bad, hard, painful stuff in one big lump up until now. And from here on out, I can only live the really great, happy, beautiful stuff because otherwise my life would be unbalanced.

It all evens out in the end.

You have go through the bad to get to the good.

Pieces of me have slowly been pulled off and blended until liquefied. Parts of me have died unfairly. I have too many cuts and bruises to be able to move sometimes (perhaps why I didn't crawl out of bed until 3 this afternoon), but it's okay.

New skin grows over each wound to heal it.

It just takes time.

I can slowly feel my skin growing again. Even in my twenties, there is such a thing as growing pains. Maybe this is why it hurts so much sometimes. Maybe all of my memories and nightmares are just different parts of my skin growing to heal over my invisible wounds. Maybe the growing pains are more painful the older we are because we know more, have lived more, can feel more.

Each life experience is a growing pain.

Some are just more painful than others.

I do believe that everything that happens in our lives has some kind of grand purpose and meaning. I do believe there is rhyme and reason to all of it, but it can never make sense while we are in the middle of it all. I do believe that somehow, if it is meant to be, it will find a way to be.

I don't know what he will decide about me and our last weekend together... But something is different now. And neither of us can really tell what has changed. We just agree that something has changed with us... All I know is that I do care about him very much...

Crash

I didn't know how her death was going to affect me.

Today, I came home after a long day and found myself looking forward to another usual weekend away with her.

But it wasn't until after I finished writing my last post... and on my way to my fridge to stash my pizza... that I realized:

She is gone.

I can't visit her this weekend.

I fell to my floor, pizza box in hand.

I cradled my face in my hands and lay on my floor, unable to do anything else but cry and cry because she is dead and I can't ever go to see her, talk to her about life, touch her soft skin, hold her soft hands, play with her soft her, help care for her...

I am so sad.

I am starting to cry all over again.

I hate that she is gone.

She was the only person, the only home, I ever went to when I needed to feel safe and alive.

I am so angry she is dead.

I am so angry I dressed her for her funeral.

I am so angry I gave her eulogy.

I am so angry I can never see her again.

... Mother's Day is around the corner...

I haven't talked to my family since her death.

I don't want to.

I don't care...

I just want her back...

Saved by the Bell

"Of all the thirty-six alternatives, running away is the best." Chinese Proverb

PROFILE: 1. n. the shape of something, esp. the face... a concise biographical description... any short historical, geographical or other descriptive sketch in writing... 2. v.t. pres. part. profiling past and past part...

This "profile" section on my blog site confuses me. I always change and update it, never 100% content with what I "profile" myself as. I am anonymous to you so it shouldn't matter... it should actually be easier than harder if anything. Except that I still struggle with categorizing who I am because I feel like I am always evolving, as we all are.

The only constant is change.

I revisited the local rape crisis center for another intake with the director to pursue counseling... once again. I hate I am "back at square one." My head knows this is not the case but my heart just doesn't feel the same way. I fully recognize that as I get older, I develop more insight into my life - what it is and what I want it to be. But when I look at it from the outside in, I see an incredible, dynamic, attractive and thriving young woman who is frozen in fear and lonelinessss from her life's traumatic, painful, gut-wrenching experiences. I see myself trying to turn around and move forward but I can't because I am rapidly spiraling down a dark and cold tunnel. My rapist is holding my hand. And in my other hand, my father's favorite handle of whiskey.

I am being yanked down this tunnel by my past's two heaviest components.

I am at a total loss.

I have been trying to connect with this director for the last two months for yet another intake. I tried counseling again at the start of the year, but I never returned... something about it just didn't feel right. I was angry. Very angry that I was in that room again. All I remembered: The first time I cried in front of a counselor was in this room.

It was during the time I contracted a suicide agreement. I promised my counselor, in writing, that I would call her these given days and times to confirm I was still alive. And if she didn't hear from me within ten minutes of our agreed time slots, I gave her permission to call the cops to my home incase I had attempted yet another overdose.

It was the absolute most lowest of low times in my life.

I didn't want to be in that room again.

But today:

I have this suicide contract framed in my bathroom. I must see it everyday. I must begin each day with this contract standing right beside me as I shower, brush my teeth, apply mascara, make myself look pretty, etc... I must remind myself:

Even when in the deepest of holes, I can - and will - have the strength to dig myself out. I just have to believe.

And I do have the strength to do it. Standing before my suicide contract every single day is my evidence.

Wow - I had no idea I was going to tell you about that. See why I need to drink so much wine these days??! I feel myself holding back so much inside of me. I have to let it all go. I have to let it all out...

Anyhow, every single time the Rape Crisis Center has returned my call to schedule another intake, I flake. I never return her call to confirm a time. I just don't want to do it. I hate talking about my rape. What good is it going to do anymore? It's not going to change what Jay did to me. It's not going to erase it. It's not going to erase the fact that my birthday marks the anniversary of my rape, or the fact that Jay was my first experience with a man... ever... including my first kiss. None of that will ever change... so I don't understand how talking about old shit is going to help me with letting in the new shit.

My cell phone rang at 8:30 this morning. It was a restricted call, which I NEVER answer. The director left a voice mail saying she had a 9:30 am available today or next Monday afternoon worked for her. I called her right back and scheduled the 9:30 am meeting.

We met and talked for an hour. I was very tired. I didn't want to go to work afterwards, which is always how I feel after I have a counseling session - it just takes everything out of me... I am completely numb and drained for the remainder of the day.

She is going to have a counselor contact me soon to begin sessions next week. I am quite nervous about returning to counseling but I can't avoid it any longer... I don't know what is going to come out. And that is what scares me the most. I am so shut down with what I feel that it is getting in the way of my life. Even she noticed that (she knows me by now). She even asked me, "And what kind of way is that to live? To not let yourself REALLY feel anything inside? To just put it all aside and not recognize that it's okay to feel what you are feeling? To not be afraid of how powerful these emotions can get sometimes?" (I explained the nightmares, hyperventilating, etc.)

She said she recognized that I have come a long way since I first started counseling there. And that it is perfectly okay and natural if I need more help and support. That as scary as it might be for me to explore everything I am hiding inside, she sees that there is a part of me that doesn't want to hide because I am so dedicated to my writing. (I explained that the hyperventilating comes when I am writing and I don't know how to control the physical reactions while in the middle of it all.)

Long story even longer, I don't know what's going to happen. I just know I'm on hold right now. My life feels like it's on hold. My writing is on hold. Everything is on hold as I dive into counseling once again. And I'm deathly afraid this is the most crucial, most emotional time in my life to get back into it. I don't really know why, but I foresee myself just not being able to hold it in anymore. And because of that, I know I DO need to go back. But that is also the very reason I DON'T want to go.

I just want to erase it.

But I know I can't. Life does not come with an eraser.

And I do appreciate, love and admire who I am today because of what I survived yesterday.

My head and my heart are just in two different places... and that, my dear reader, is a rape survivor's greatest struggle.


Book: The Truth About Rape
Author: Teresa M. Lauer, M.A.

"I don't want to talk about it; what's the point?"

+ A Clinical View

The Definition of Avoidance

You are remembering and reliving the rape and it's effect on you, a great deal of your time anyway. With the more formalized approach to resolving your issues that therapy will provide, or with your own self-study, you will begin to see the value of expressing your feelings about the rape.

You are avoiding emotions surrounding rape - a very useful, if you examine the behavior - method of avoiding pain. There is a difference, though between having successfully moved beyond a traumatic experience and continuing to avoid the emotions surrounding it. Avoidance of our emotions eventually leads, in many cases, to behavior that is unacceptable and painful to us.

The road to recovery is circuitous not linear, and you'll see that there are times when you just need to retreat as a turtle in its shell - take this time to take care of yourself; change takes place very slowly and occurs when you least expect it.

Taking Control of Avoidance

It's scary to feel the pain associated with rape. Sometimes it's overwhelming sad, depressing, terrifying, fearful - all at the same time and we wonder if we're ever going to feel the same as we did before the rape. You may feel that if you let your emotions out, if you allow yourself to really feel, you're not going to be able to stop - that you will slip down and be overcome by those feelings.

There are no magic pills we can take to get well; we must all walk the path of recovery in our own time. Coping with avoidance is not easy. Remnants from the rape can creep into many different facets of your life. You will know when it's right for you to start feeling and sharing aspects of the rape. Try on a small scale to venture inside yourself. Find a safe, supportive place to begin.

Secret

I doubt any of this will even make any sense to you but it makes sense to me:

I am drinking again in order to numb my pain and nightmares. I won't always be like this. It will be almost one year (in just a few weeks) that I haven't done any hard drugs - which is HUGE for me. And I haven't smoked pot in six weeks or so, with the exception of the three days after her funeral, but fuck that... that doesn't count. And I will have to reload, I think, this week.

But here it is:

I think I am a secret.

I can't explain but I know what I mean by that and that is all that matters. This is my blog, my writing, my journaling, my pain, anger, confusion, hurt, etc. blowing over in a healthy manner instead of a self-destructive manner so I shouldn't have to explain.

But I think I am a secret. That is why so much time has passed and nothing.

I think it's done.

I think I am done here now.

I can find a job anywhere.

I can find a home anywhere.

I only stayed because I found out she was sick. And what was a few years out of my entire life to spend with her? It was nothing in the big picture of it all. So I stayed here to be close to her, to stay near to visit every weekend, to love her as often as humanly possible.

But now she is dead. And I don't understand what else I am here for.

I think I need out.

I think I need to find a new life elsewhere.

I think I need to CREATE a new life elsewhere.

I have every reason to be happy, and I am happy. Except that something is missing.

Or am I being distracted?

I feel distracted. Unable to stay focused on the "prize" - WRITING.

What is bothering me? What is agitating me? Why do I feel like there is some kind of invisible wall standing between me and my ultimate passion? Why am I holding back? WHAT am I holding back?

I don't know.

I am just confused.

Maybe more confused than the normal human being.

Oh. Wait. Nope.

My excess confusion only proves I AM THE NORMAL human being.

So, then, it is settled.

I am NOT a secret.

I am a person.

I am just a person struggling to win the hand with the cards she was dealt.

Except it's not even about the game anymore.

It's not even about the players.

It's about the chips on the table.

It's about how much of yourself you are willing to accept and gamble in order to gain everything you know you deserve.

Lucky 7, just like my seven deadly sins.

I'm a secret... but not for very long.

10 Hours & Nothing

I went to sleep at 8 pm last night. So exhausted. So drained. Work was hard yesterday. But even after 10 hours of "sleeping," I still haven't really slept. I had dreams about her all night long. I woke up every hour or two, and every time I went back to "sleep", the dreams started right where they left off. I woke up drenched in sweat, feeling like I was hit by a bus. And I found myself crying most times I woke up last night, because I was crying in my dreams. Sweet. So I've gone from having nightmares about Jay, my rape, being chased, unable to move or cry for help to dreaming about her and waking up crying or unable to breathe.

I am very tired this morning. In bed for 10 hours, but only feeling like I've slept for no more than 10 minutes.

I miss her so much.

The only time I can remember where I didn't have trouble sleeping was last Saturday night. I stayed with a friend of mine, but left his house at 6 am because I was afraid that if I went back to sleep, I would wake up like I have been lately. I didn't want him to be witness to that. So I got dressed, grabbed my keys, kissed him goodbye, and drove the hour and a half home because I didn't know what else to do.

It will get better. I know it will. I just miss her. It just hasn't really hit me that she is gone. The dreams are making her death more real.

I don't like it.

Just have to keep muscling it...

It will get better. It has to. You have to go through the bad to get to the good. Everything happens for a reason. It all evens out in the end.

Okay, time to make a few more dollars today...

Dear Anonymous,

I'm sorry but I totally disagree. I appreciate you reading, but I am not crying victim and purposely fueling an internal fire. I understand what you are trying to say, though, except that I don't - and have NEVER - labeled myself a victim of my past.

I hate the word VICTIM as much as I hate the word RAPE.

I am a survivor.

I am very sorry you were also raped. I appreciate you being able to relate to the feelings and confusion because you felt them once, too. Except I think you have missed the point entirely.

I am not dwelling. I hate that word, too.

I am reflecting because I am only human. Everyone reflects, thinks and feels different things and emotions about their lives as they ARE moving forward with their lives.

I am a writer. I write non-fiction, about life, who we are, things that do and don't happen, relationships, struggles, triumphs, etc., etc. No, not self-help crap. Just life in general. And the world. And how there is rhyme and reason to all of it. Everything I have survived thus far reminds me that it is the worst situations that bring out the best in all of us.

What you read about in this blog is a big part of who I am, but it is not all of who I am. I do not dwell and drown myself in my misery because I am unknowingly fueling the fire. I am just expressing emotions and feelings about hurtful moments and experiences.

And everyone has them. Not just me.

I apologize if I seem agitated, but your response reminds me of another anonymous reader (male reader) who responsed that I should just "get over it." I erased that post entirely just to erase him.

Another important note - I AM taking control of the situation by finally not running from it anymore. Many people who know me DO NOT know these things about my life. But that doesn't mean they didn't happen, and that they don't happen to others. I am allowing my past to rest, not burn because I am fueling it. I am slowly but surely making room for the new. I don't even know what else to say except: You may have been reading my words, but it doesn't sound like you were really listening.

Take Care of Yourself, Anon.
ML

Dream World

I had dreams about her all night last night. I woke up at 4:30 am feeling so nauseous and weird. I went back to bed and had more dreams about her.

After having these dreams all night, it really hits me that she is gone when I wake up from them. I can feel how much more empty this world is without her. I can feel my heart slowly depleting when I realize it was only a dream.

I miss her so much already.

Life will never be the same.

I am not having nightmares about Jay and my rape anymore. Just dreaming about her now.

I can't tell which is more draining - being raped over and over or realizing my favorite person my entire life is dead.

I emailed around for some contacts for this fundraiser/non-profit we are starting.

But I suddenly don't even give a shit about any of that anymore.

Is this all it is? Life? Is this what it's all about??

Losing pieces of yourself, losing people you have loved so deeply, and losing yourself all the while you are trying so desperately to find yourself?

They say we spend a lifetime shaping who we are.

I have lived a million lifetimes already.

I am only 27 years old in this lifetime.

But, in reality, I have lived as long as God.

I have lived forever.

I am very, very tired.

I am the complete opposite outside of the writing in this blog. I have been described as funny, attractive, exotic, empathetic, outgoing, daring, smart, strong, fun, creative, adventurous, hard-working...the list goes on. What you read about in this blog... my broken feelings and memories... they are all only for here. Nowhere else. No one else.

I've been told I appear to have the perfect life.

Don't judge a book by its cover.

We all have our struggles, pains, angers and confusions.

It is evidence of normality existing in this messy world.

The more crazy we feel, the more normal we really are. The more I am just like you.

I am everywhere.

You see me everyday of your life.

I am the one passing you by on the street, parked next to you at a stoplight, serving your meal at the restaurant, ringing you up for your drycleaning.

I have lived as long as God.

Maybe I am God.

She was my God. And now she is dead.

Maybe she passed the torch onto me. And now it is my greater purpose to be for others what she was for me.

I miss her so much.

I just want to see her.

So maybe this is why she is in my dreams... she hears me and wants to see me, too. So we meet in my dreams. And maybe where she is, she is dreaming the same dream. So we do still get to see each other... in our dreams.

I still miss her, though...

Missing Him...

Tracy's mom was at the funeral. She couldn't even speak when she hugged me, just wrapped herself around me and started to cry. I held onto her and remembered Tracy, desperately wishing she didn't end her life with his gun, and that she was there to hug me right back.

I miss a lot of things in my life. I miss a lot of people that have come and mysteriously disappeared.

I wish Life would understand that I NEED her to leave me alone and let me live... or try to live, anyway.

I'm drinking again, against the better judgement and concern of my readers. I understand drugs and alcohol are not the answer, but they sure do make great place-holders while waiting for the answers to all my angry, painful, disgusting questions.

I'm sorry I cannot do this any other way.

I am alone.

Drugs and alcohol are my best friends.

I haven't smoked pot since the weekend after Valentine's, but it's definately time to reload. I take that back. I smoked the day after her funeral, and I skipped work the following two days because I wanted to do nothing but be high and watch tv.

She is really dead.

I cannot ever talk to her, see her, touch her, hug her, tell jokes with her, learn from her...

I've been having a strange and difficult time since her death.

Tonight, I just lay in my bed for a while, totally and completely glazed, staring at absolutely nothing, but just thinking about absolutely everything. I was curled up, covers off, with my body frozen in a fetal position... too scared to move... too empty to feel...

Everything is different.

And while I was lying in my bed, I realized... I miss him - my boyfriend.

I don't have one, but I desperately wish I did these days, especially in times like this.

He would just lay beside me and hold me, not ever needing to say a word, but just laying his body gently next to mine. He would make me feel safe. He would carefully brush my hair away, slowly and softly kiss my trembling lips and wrap himself around me so tight that not even my nightmares could pull us apart.

That's my favorite - being wrapped around each other like rattlesnakes. Just lying together, not having to say or do anything... just letting yourself be. Just letting yourself relax in his safe arms, warm up to his tender skin, and feel your two hearts beating, dancing, together.

I have already polished half a bottle of wine.

I know I am only numbing my pain.

I commented the below on Survivor's site (post 04/08/06) on the night of her funeral... or maybe just after, I don't fucking remember... everything is so blurry, foggy, gray...

[sigh]

hi sweetie... so sorry you are having such dark and difficult days... wish i could take it all away from you. if this helps at all, everything you write TOTALLY makes sense. i know that we understand that about each other, so please, i beg you, to NEVER discount your feelings because you are not alone in feeling them. & while i hate how much everything hurts, how deep i feel the memories cut the insides of my heart and soul, the ONLY thing that helps me is knowing that:

I AM NOT ALONE IN WHAT I FEEL.

we are on the same wavelength w/the numbness being bliss part... if feeling so many confusing highs & lows is so draining and painful, then why even bother feeling them at all? why torture ourselves w/this pain & turmoil? why not just smoke a bowl (or do a line in my case) and color the world a lovely shade of intoxicated and loaded?

before i forget, though, i want to mention that i experienced incredible mood swings & horrible nightmares when i stopped smoking pot. i also thought it would be easier to just reload, roll a blunt, and get lost in my make-believe happy world again. but i knew i had to feel everything because it has been so many fucking years that i havent let myself feel anything at all.

and in a weird, twisted way, i guess just feeling numb to everything we have survived thus far in our young and innocent lives is probably the most draining and taxing feeling of all... it is the one feeling that has to work soooo fucking hard to keep all of the other feelings shoved way deep down.

damn - i cant believe i just wrote that...

but it makes sense, doesn't it?

thats why all i want these days is a line or a pill or a bowl or a drink... but i know i cant have it for some reason... for my angel that went into hiding during my rape... i have to stay clean and sober for her... well, clean anyway... uh... i guess pot is okay since its natural, right? think ill be needing to reload shortly -

take care of yourself... ill be thinking about you and hoping you keep muscling through the days...

ive been struggling just as hard lately, so please trust you are not alone...

this all just fucking sucks, doesnt it?

but we will get through this.

we ARE getting through this.

it just hurts along the way sometimes...

email me if you need to talk at all...

xo,
ML
8:38 PM

I only posted the above because while I was commenting on her site, I realized that everything I am doing to NOT remember is creating MORE work and pain for me in the long run... (says the anonymous blogger who continues to empty her oversized wine bottle into her sage-colored antique wine glass...)

I only miss having a boyfriend because I am incredibly vulnerable and scared right now, as I have been for quite some time. Let's face it - these things are not easy to read. It is not easy for me to confess my dirty little secrets. But I must purge them somehow, someway, because I am deathly afraid that if i don't, I will never let myself experience anything relating to love and trust, my two most feared enemies I am desperately trying to call a truce with.

I'm afraid I'm not even making any sense right now.

I am so disconnected and still.

Like I was after I was raped.

But something is a little off, a little askew, a little different.

I know she is dead and I can't change that.

It's as if I am so angry and so torn that...

... I can't even complete sentences or thoughts anymore...

... I wonder what she would say if she were here right now...

"Don't stop yourself from feeling what you need to feel. Life is what it is. You will have a difficult future if you don't let your heart live. It's not good for your spirit to hold things inside - they grow inside of you and keep you from enjoying Life."

We used to talk about Life a lot when she was sick. I wish she were still here... I still need to talk to her about all kinds of things. She needs to be at my wedding. She needs to be here for the birth of my children. She needs to shop with me for my new house. She still needs to be here, alive and healthy.

I wish she weren't dead.

I desperately wish she wasn't gone.

I need her here.

More than I need to heal from my rape and abuse, I need her to be here.

I miss having a boyfriend because right now, he would tell me nothing at all, but just hold me a little tighter, kiss me a little slower and touch me a little softer. And all the while, I would know that I don't have to say or do anything to explain how I'm feeling because he would just understand they are feelings.

And we don't get to choose our feelings... they just are.

And he would appreciate my confusion to the point of almost loving it, and ultimately, loving me.

I only miss him because I am not just alone anymore, I am...

... speechless...

I don't know what is happpening.

I don't know where I'm going.

I don't know who I'm becoming.

I'm Drunk... Again

Writing & wine has become a pair... like Bonnie & Clyde, Laverne & Shirley, Tom & Jerry... Drinking is the only thing numbing enough to keep my nightly fears at bay.

I've had nightmares again. Last Saturday night, I dreamt about her coming back from the dead to tell me that it's going to be okay, that she will always be with me, and that she will always love me more than I could ever know... I woke myself up because I was hyperventilating. I have never woken up from not being able to breathe before.

I'll tell you the rest about her and my dreams at a later date because I am too tired & too drained these days... I know she is still with me... in a good way, though. I miss her terribly, more than I miss my innocence and virginity. I miss her in ways I can't even explain. She is such an incredible, internal driving force and spirit that I doubt I will ever feel she has left me, which is a really great thing. I just desperately wish I could still hug her and talk to her...

But I know she is still with me.

I can't believe she is really gone.

Is she really gone? I don't know.

I hated it when the coroner came into the house, covered her up and wheeled her out. I wanted to lay down w/her and ride with them to wherever they were taking her. When I was talking to my aunt a few days later, she felt the same things - she wanted to run after them because she knew she would be scared all alone in that car ride to the mortuary.

I can't believe she is really gone.

She is really dead.

My eyes have formed their own personal wells again. I am too tired to cry anymore...

I wish she wasn't sick. I wish my family didn't fight so much. I wish she knew how much I loved her and looked up to her. I wish I never had to say goodbye.

My grandpa and my dad got into a big fight the day of her funeral. The funeral was in the morning, the fight was in the evening. I freaked out... I snapped: I jumped up, started yelling, "Just stop!! All of it!! Just stop!! She's dead!! Doesn't anyone care?! She's never coming back!! Just let it go forever!! She's dead and this is all still happening!! I hate it!! I can't stand it anymore!! She's never coming back!! She's gone so just STOP IT!!"

I was furious. I ran upstairs and cried until my insides were all dried out.

I miss her. I wanted her to live forever. But she was sick and in too much pain to live forever. I knew that, but wished that somehow, some way, it would all change for her sake.

But instead, my family is being torn apart before my very eyes.

I walked into the house yesterday only to hear another aunt crying and begging my grandpa for his forgiveness. My uncle was defending his honor, too. My grandpa has accused many people of many different things since her death, including my father.

He accused my dad of being responsible for an aunt's divorce and for the marital problems another aunt was having with her husband because, as far as my grandpa was concerned, my dad had taught them how to be disrespectful, negligent and hurtful.

As much as I hate how much my dad used to drink during my childhood, he is still a very honest, caring, honorable man who loves his family more than anything in this world.

On the day of her funeral, my grandpa told my dad he never liked him from day one. I looked over at my dad... the pot was slowly starting to boil...

I begged my dad to let it go. But I freaked out and broke down. I jumped up in front of everyone, crying and shaking. I begged my dad and grandpa to let it go today, of all days... the day of her funeral.

I just wanted - I NEEDED - us to to be a family for once.

I was already secretly really angry and hurt with how life was unfolding for our family before her very eyes... just beggging and praying they could all grow up and get along for her sake...

I have been a mess since her death. I want her back more than anything in this cruel, cruel world...

Things aren't just blurry and confusing anymore...

Things are non-existent.

I think this is the end of my family forever.

No one talks to one another. There is so much gossip and bullshit that I have to leave the house to take multiple drives in order to de-stress from it all.

All of my family's mess only proves that we are normal.

I don't give a shit about any of that, though.

I told them that it was going to be too late when they realized we had to support each other as a family.

And now she is dead. Gone forever.

I hate it. I hate her death more than I hate my rape.

Yes, that's true.

I'd rather let Jay rape me a hundred times than let her suffer the way she did while she was sick.... and witnessing the entire downfall of her entire family.

I am disgusted with my family these days.

But they are a part of me.

Literally. So I must appreciate them, for we are all connected.

Ah, hell... who even cares...

I'm drunk again, missing her, hating that she is no longer around to laugh with, talk to, help care for...


I will always and forever love and miss you...
xoxoxo

Living is Killing Me

I don't even know where to start...

But fuck you.

And fuck God, too. And fuck the world. And fuck it all to fucking hell.

Just fuck off and leave me the fuck alone.

She died at 4:00 am on Friday, March 31, 2006.

I wrote her obituary.

I picked out the clothes for her funeral.

I put the beautiful silk jacket on her cold and stiff body. Just looking at her dead face... and I totally lost it.

I felt my body cracking and breaking from all of my tears pouring out of me... like a waterfall... but I had to make her beautiful...

... just playing dress-up like all our shopping trips together.

I wrote her eulogy.

I cried the entire time I gave it... pieces of me slowly falling off and crashing below as I stood before her dead body in a cherry wood casket.

I am writing the thank-you letters to send to everyone who donated money, sent food, gifts & flowers.

I don't know who I am.

I don't know what to do.

I don't give a fuck about any of it anymore.

I thought I didn't care before, but since her death, I am just walking around blind and deaf, counting the minutes until a bus runs me over to end me forever.

I haven't been doing very good at all.

I hate myself even more now than I did before.

I hate that she is gone.

She was the only home I have ever known in my entire life. She was the only one I always went to when I needed to feel alive and safe.

And now she is gone.

I am even more alone now.

Now, I am just vapor.

I want to change my name, change my number, get up & move and leave everything/everyone behind forever, once and for all.

A FRESH START.

I don't give a fucking fuck if you think I am too scared or running away. What if I'm not running away because I'm scared, but I'm running towards something to feel safe?

Have you thought about that?

How can I be running away from something if I'm trying to finally be safe? How is that running away? Isn't that taking care of myself?

I don't know.

Fuck off if you think I should tough it out.

Fuck you if you are going to give me some bull fucking mother fucker cliche... shove your cliches up your rotten ass.

Just bring her back.

I didn't want her to die.

Please. I am begging you with every weighted tear pouring out of my eyes right now...

JUST BRING HER BACK, DAMMIT.

I have never felt so numb and hard, so angry and violent, so empty and dead.

She was the only one helping me to live.

She was the only one I lived for.

She was my life.

And now I don't know what to do.

I don't want to be here.

I want to disappear and start a new life somewhere else. Like I did before, but I returned for some reason. So maybe I returned to be here for her death... but now I have to go... don't I??

I don't want to be here anymore.

Literally.

And figuratively.

Fuck you for taking her away from me.

Just fuck off.

And fuck this blog. Fuck writing. Fuck it all.

Fuck everything.

And fuck you the most, God. Fuck you. Kill me now. Just get it over with... Why do you keep on slowly killing me by ripping away the only things and people that have meant anything to me? Why even bother with all that extra effort? Just kill me now. Save yourself a hell of a lot of steps by cutting right to the chase... just slam my car into a deadly tree. Or aim a drunk driver in my direction. And give him a lit cigarette to make my car burst into flames upon impact...

Just finish it...

If you even exist, just finish me forever.

PLEASE GOD,
DON'T MAKE ME LIVE ANYMORE BECAUSE THIS LIFE IS KILLING ME.

I don't have anyone now.

She was my heart and soul.

Please, Dear God,
Bring her back to me because my heart is missing, my eyes are burning and my body is dead cold... like hers.

Inspect, Demo, Excavate, Rebuild

The verse below has been my mantra for days and days... I've been listening to this song at least a few times each day for weeks now...

Artist: 2pac
Song: Keep Your Head Up

"... And since we all came from a woman
Got our name from a woman
And our game from a woman
I wonder why we take from our women
Why we rape our women
Do we hate our women?
I think it's time to kill for our women
Time to heal our women
Be real to our women
And if we don't
We'll have a race of babies
That hate the ladies that make the babies
And since a man can't make one
He has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one
So will the real men get up
I know you're fed up, ladies
But keep your head up..."


I work at a construction company.

I absolutely HATED it for the first six months. I would come home and cry myself to sleep every night because I was the only girl surrounded by so many men all day long. And each and every one of them needed something from me. I hated being surrounded by the enemy. I hated that I was there to "serve" them. I knew it would be a difficult adjustment because of my past, but I never expected how difficult of an adjustment. All I knew for sure was that things and issues would surely resurface... I just prayed I would be able to muscle through the memories, triggers and emotions...

I forced myself to stick with the job because I needed the money. I promised myself I'd relocate to wherever the money was because I desperately needed a stable financial situation to pursue writing. I went from working three jobs every day of the week and carrying a full load of writing courses to a regular Monday through Friday work schedule. I needed something new. I needed something challenging to make me feel alive again. I needed routine. I needed stability. I needed time to rest.

This job offered all of those things.

But I also knew I was being tested.

I was dumbfounded at the irony of it all: Of course this was the only way I'd confront my worst nightmare - by working for a construction company... and you know the stereotypical image/actions of construction workers. Of course this job was my fate... and I was the only girl at it's center.

Life sure does work in mysterious ways...

Today, though (just about a year since my initial start date), things are the exact opposite. I adore everyone I work with. I do struggle some days - especially when I have nightmares and flashbacks - but I recognize I am just adjusting to having some kind of life again. I recognize that being around men all day long is helping me to know myself better:

I am becoming more aware of my surroundings.

I note when I am secretly snapping on the inside because I suddenly feel overwhelmed, angry or drained.

I feel myself suffocating at times and know when I need to leave the office in order to breathe.

I am learning how to communicate.

I am recognizing the characteristics which make me feel safe and endangered.

I am letting others get to know me again.

I am learning how to be objective and fair.

I am learning that not everyone is out to use me and hurt me.

I am learning to trust my feelings more, regardless of how crazy I feel for letting myself even feel them at all.

I am recognizing my boundaries in certain situations.

I am learning about men: All men are NOT the enemy. All men are NOT sure and determined. All men are NOT careless, hurtful and vengeful. All men are NOT cold, hard and angry. All men do NOT hate all women.

I don't work in a normal office-type setting. Instead, I work on location at different job sites. These job sites are breathtaking estates in rich and famous neighborhoods. I am right there in the heart of it all - the jackhammering at the opposite end of the wall, the crane lifting full grown imported trees overhead, the custom designed underground tunnel being dug out of Mother Earth, the roof being thrown to the ground for a third story add-on... I'm the one manning the satellite office for not just one project, but dozens of gazillion dollar estates owned by my employer's most lucrative and prestigious client. I have a pretty amazing job despite the insane levels of stress and ridiculous deadlines we are always up against.

It was the aforementioned jackhammering in my ear that made me realize:

My life is a construction project.

Before any initial work begins on a project, preliminary interior and exterior inspections of the entire property must be completed - you have to know what you are dealing with before you can proceed. Then, demo can begin to remove the necessary existing structures. Excavation begins to further dig - or remove - the "bones" in order to... rebuild into a beautiful, customized, strong, healthy, new structure withstanding the forces of any future complications.

First, I must inspect my life:

I must look at my past from as many different angles as possible. I must look at each situation's advantages and disadvantages. I must consider the history of the original foundation and existing structure prior to beginning any kind of work. I must research, organize and confront the facts before I can proceed. If there is no history or foundation, then there is no future.

Second, let the demo begin:

This blog site is a record of my personal demo on my life. These raw, painful, hurtful, numbing memories are evidence of the removal of my outdated structure. These stories are the demo-ing of my mind, body, heart and soul. I have to cut away here, chop away there, knock down this and drill away that in order to make room for the new and improved. And even this is not that easy... sometimes, when I demo, new problems surface. Unexpected setbacks were overlooked during the initial inspection because they were hiding too deep and too far within the structure. They only became visible after removing this door or tearing down that wall. They were hiding in the cracks of my frame, beneath the surface. They surprise me, freeze my plans and force me to pay attention.

Third, excavate to the core:

As painful as it is, I have to dig even futher beneath the surface. I have to chisel away inbetween the tiniest and most fragile of my bones in order to attack and destroy my dirty little secrets. I don't even know what's hiding anymore... it's been so long since I've rapidly shoved everything deep down, covered it up, and walked away only to never look back... until now. And why am I looking at it now? Because my dirty little secrets are molding from my nonstop tears. The mold is spreading inside of me like wild fire. It is a different kind of cancer I have - Cancer of the Core. My past has created a tumor consuming my heart and soul. I have to dig and dig and dig until every pebble of my molded tumor is removed. I have to scrape, jackhammer and bulldoze until my core is visible, clean and healthy.

Last, it is time to rebuild:

Rebuilding is even more difficult than continuing with what you have. You know what the existing structure consisted of, including its strengths and weaknesses. And after completing the demo and excavation, you stare at your fresh start, fully recognizing that you are building over in a new time - in the future of your past. Different requirements must be met in order to pass an inspection now than before the demo. Rules have changed. What used to be acceptable before may very well be null and void now. The noise from the hammering and machinery has stopped, but the work is just beginning. You don't want the tumor to return. You don't want to leave any secret hiding places for your shame and guilt to grow any more painful mold. You examine your Life's blueprint and finally realize:

You will always be building.

This is precisely what Life is about.

As angry, ashamed, pained and alone as I am, I take great comfort in knowing a few small truths about my Life:

I will ALWAYS be inspecting, demo-ing and excavating my life because: IT TAKES A LIFETIME TO (RE)BUILD A LIFE.

I am fascinated with my deep pain and internal turmoil because: IT GIVES ME THE STRENGTH TO NEVER GIVE UP.

There are an infinite number of quick-fixes (one-night stands, cocaine, ecstasy, shrooms, acid, pot, pills, alcohol...) but: I DO NOT NEED FIXING BECAUSE I AM NOT BROKEN.

The love I deserve will find me because: EVERYONE DESERVES TO BE LOVED.

Dear God,

Please give me double the strength and wisdom you deem necessary... just hanging on by an invisible thread...

Red Like Brake Lights

“Here is a test to find out if your mission on earth is finished: If you’re alive, it isn’t.” Richard Bach

I headed down south last Saturday afternoon to clear my head again. It was dark by the time I was ready to drive home. I was lost in thought, just listening to music, really trying to understand who I am and how I feel. I suddenly noticed all of these red spots everywhere. They were keeping me company. The only light around me was coming from the brake lights of all my roadside companions.

I remembered her.

My eyes welled up with tears.

I'll call her Tracy.

Tracy was a few years older than me. We grew up together. Our parents had been friends for years and years... they used to socialize as young newlyweds even before we were born.

Junior High: My family was invited to her parent's house for dinner. Tracy was going to meet up with her friends afterwards. She asked me to help her decide what to wear. I felt so cool because she wanted my help and trusted my opinion. We even began playing around with her jewelry and started to try on different clothes for fun. I kind of looked up to her. She was one of the "big kids."

Junior College: Tracy randomly showed up at a dinner party one weekend. We were all so excited to see her. Since she started her master's program in LA, she was keeping pretty busy with classes and a full time job. She looked good. She looked happy. There were a lot of people at this dinner party, at least five or six families altogether. All of our parents had been friends for over 20 years. All of us kids were like brothers and sisters. It was kind of becoming tradition for us to sneak some alcohol, make fun of our drunk parents, and watch a late night movie after playing video games. I remember Tracy not wanting to watch a movie, though. Instead, she wanted to do funny, random girly stuff. So all of us girls, about seven of us, started to play around with our makeup because we were so bored. I remember watching a friend apply Tracy's eyeshadow... she loved it. We all shared makeup tips and continued to drink, laugh, play video games, watch tv... It was a good night.

College: My mom left a few messages to call her back over the period of about one week. She needed to talk to me about something, she said, but to only call her when I had time to talk. I was starting to mess up real bad at this time: The more I started dating, the more I remembered my rape... my secret rape I never told anyone about. I was joining a sorority, lived in a new college town, carried a full load of writing classes... my time was very limited... my plate was rapidly overflowing with unexpected memories.

I just hyperventilated again... I can't believe I am starting to have trouble breathing along with the nightmares and panic attacks. It's taken a scary and solid fifteen minutes for my body to cool back down and my throat to open back up. This is fucking ridiculous. Absolutely FUCKING RIDICULOUS.

I was running out the door for a sorority thing when my phone rang. I quickly answered it. It was my mom again.

"Hey mom. Can I call you back, though? I've gotta get to the house for our big fundraiser thing I'm advertising for."

"Yeah. When will you be back?"

"I don't know. Late probably. Sorry I haven't called you back yet, just been super busy. But I got your messages. What's going on?"

"Well, I don't want to bother you if you're busy so just call me as soon as you get back."

"Okay... is everything alright?"

"Well..."

"Mom, what's going on? It's fine, I can be late. What is it?"

"Well... you better sit down." I didn't like the sound in her voice. I froze.

"Okay."

"Tracy killed herself."

I'm crying again... I wish she didn't do it... I will never know why she did it...

"(Missing)? Are you there?" I couldn't move or speak.

"That doesn't make sense. What?!" I started to panic.

"I said: Tracy killed herself."

"What do you mean? You're not making any sense, mom. That's not true. You don't know that."

"I mean she's gone. She took her own life..." I needed to throw up.

"Are you there? Are you okay?" my mom kept asking.

"That doesn't make any sense. What do you mean she killed herself??!!" I fell to the floor, grabbing onto my bed as I crumbled.

"I mean she's dead, (Missing). She's in a better place now. She's at peace. This was what God wanted for her."

"No. That doesn't make sense to me. What do you mean she killed herself? What happened? What did she do? How do you know? This doesn't make any sense..." The questions were starting to come...

"Well, she shot herself."

"What! How?! Why?! Where?!! What do you mean? Mom, this doesn't make any sense! Why would she do that? She was doing so great..."

"I know she was. I don't know why she did it. Guess she thought there was no way out and this was the only answer..." I knew how Tracy must have felt, considering how many suicide attempts I had so far. I felt guilty for still being alive.

"What happened? Who found her?"

"Well... I guess she was dating a police officer in town and they wanted to get married or something... I'm not really sure what happened. But I guess they were dating for a while and she really loved him. And they wanted to get married but for some reason or another, he ended the relationship. I don't want to say anything for sure... I don't really know. But I guess she took one of his guns and she shot herself on the steps of his house."

I couldn't believe what my mom was telling me. I couldn't believe my mom was telling me Tracy shot herself on the steps of her boyfriend's house.

"Who found her? What happened? Was she still alive when they found her?"

"I guess the neighbor heard the shot and went over and found her laying there. She died instantly. She shot herself in the head."

I don't remember much else after that except just sitting on the floor next to my bed, unable to move or say much. Everything was blurry for days after that. Instead of seeing classmate's faces, I just saw unfocused, noisy shapes. Everyone blended together. I sat in class and just stared into space. All I could see was Tracy's dead body in a pool of her own blood on the steps of her boyfriend's house. All I heard was the gunshot that she decidingly ended her life with. All I felt was incredible guilt, nausea and sadness... I didn't understand why this world would take her away and let me live, especially since I had desperately tried to end my life already. It didn't make any sense. Why was it her time to go and not mine? Why did she have to die? Why did God take her away from me?

Because there is no God.

I didn't go to her funeral. I didn't even see her parents until a year later... and even then, I didn't know what to say. I was so nervous to see her mom, but I gave her a hug, told her I missed her daughter and that Tracy is still alive and happy even though she isn't physically here. That was one of the toughest dialogues I have ever had in my entire life. My heart was racing and my body was limp.

Tracy killed herself because she loved a boy.

I wanted to kill myself because I hated a boy.

I can't get her out of my head... her motionless, cold, small body resting in a pool of her own blood.

Blood red like brake lights.

I'm Over It

I have been thinking all week: I just need to get over it.

I know I can't change my past. I know what's done is done. It is what it is. I can't beat myself up over what I should have done differently because the truth of the matter is, it doesn't matter anymore. I mean, it DOES matter, but it doesn't always have to matter with the same piercing pain and sadness. It's all water under the bridge. The World is trying to tell me that today as she continuously dumps her tears out of the sky. Her tears are wiping away my life's dirt.

There is so much shit making up my life thus far. I don't want the nightmares anymore. I don't want to see Jay anymore. I don't care about any of it. It happened. It all happened and it all fucking sucks and that's the end of that.

No. Literally. I don't know if I'm going to Nevada anymore. I'm not going tomorrow so I don't have to decide today. I just can't let all of that matter right now. I'll figure it out when the time is right. I'll know when I'm ready. I am not going to push myself.

Maybe time does heal all wounds.

Maybe this is my time.

Maybe my time is now.

I know everything has rushed back with such force the past few months because I am trying to get published right now. I know everything is resurfacing because I have been doing nothing but reflecting on my life and who I am today because of it all.

My readers have taught me that all of my feelings are valid, no matter how scared, confused and angry I get. I am learning that not everyone in this world is out to use me and throw me away like Jay. I have opened the door for my angel to come out of hiding. She sees the light and will emerge when she is ready. I just have to be patient.

I just have to be patient with myself.

You have to go through the bad to get to the good.

It all evens out in the end.

Everything happens for a reason.

Unrecognized Hero

"If one woman told the truth about her whole life, the world would split open... if one woman dared." Roseanne Barr

This is the truth. I don't want to tell it, but I have to. I don't want you to know it, but you will.

Something happened when I was very young. I can't even tell you, a total and complete stranger, because it will ruin me forever. But I still know it happened. It haunts me as I struggle to wrap my head around who I am today because of what I survived yesterday. I want to tell you, but I am afraid I cannot. I will never tell anyone. I will never even hear myself say the words. It is too painful. It is too shameful. I have never mentioned it to anyone... ever. It is that big of a secret. A secret so big and so scary that if it earthquakes out me, it will kill me instantly. I cannot tell you, but it is true.

It's happened to others in my family. But I didn't learn about it until much later. Someone was even threatened with a gun because of how bad the rumors were. But she survived. She is still here. I didn't even know this story until just a few years ago: He put a gun to her head and threatened to kill her until she confessed the truth. She was telling the truth. He just didn't believe her. He didn't shoot. Thank God.

Another was threatened with a public court trial. It became such a silent family scandal that it tore our families apart. I haven't even seen some of my cousins in years. One was just recently married. I didn't go to her wedding. I have never met her husband. I am the one who "always wanted to be white" and didn't respect her heritage. They were wrong - I respected it very much, I just never understood why women had be treated so differently. We were stronger than men, I always thought. We are the ones who really put food on the table. We grow entire human beings inside of us and bring them into this world. As far as I was concerned, women deserved to be treated BETTER than men. We gave life and nourished it every day of our lives.

Women are heroes.

Women are used, abused and thrown away everyday.

I look at my naked body and wish it was different. I touch it slowly and softly. I feel my hands smooth over his fingerprints. Jay's fingerprints are branded on my breasts, my stomach, my thighs, my back... My dad's fingerprints are branded on my face, the back of my neck, my arms, my bruised and cut up hands...

I should have come with an owner's manual.

Please fix me.

I know I am different than you. I know I have experienced too much life way too soon. I know you will never understand. I know I even don't want to understand. If I understand, then there are reasons for everything that has happened. If there are reasons, then there are no more questions. But I need the questions because bad things aren't supposed to have answers. They are just supposed to be here and there, answerless, pointless, just random with no explanation except forcing you to be more aware of who you are and who you want to become.

I am just a girl... I am an angry daughter, a doubting sister, a scared girlfriend. I have a small frame, but it is made of iron. I am not white, but all the cocaine in the world could not make me more innocent and pure. I am sarcastic and witty, but honest and dumbfounded. I am brainwashed, yet my worst nightmares are ingrained in my memory. I will walk through hoops of fire to take away another's pain, turmoil and sadness, but I cannot extinguish the fires threatening my own heart and soul. I am loving, affectionate and giving, but I am too hard, cold and paralyzed to fully express it.

I am not trying to find my niche in this world. I am not challenging joy and happiness. I am just sharing one woman's truth. I am just feeling the volcanic eruption of my past overflow into my present with such force that I can't see my future anymore.

So this is my life. I am a silent rape survivor. I am the interference in my dad's drunken rampages. I am the niece of my murdered uncle. I am a drug abuser. I am an easy one-night stand. I am the fucked up one who has the perfect life. I am the social butterfly who is always alone. I am the one with the perfect figure, except I am too broken to stand up straight. I am daring and determined, but challenged and afraid.

My rape has torn apart my insides to a depth I am barely able to see and feel. There are parts of my heart and soul that are so vaporized by what Jay did to me that I have to just let it go because I know it will never be the same. The only solid make-up of my entire alienated being are the holes that float inside my wasted shell.

Does that even make any sense??

Does it even make sense for a person, an alien, to be so strong from her broken past that nothing can tear her down anymore?

Does it make sense that as her tears burn her branded skin, her eyes begin to see a little clearer?

Does it make sense that as regretful, hurt and pained I am of my horrible, freight-train, whipped memories that I am just as grateful and appreciative of them for helping me live a life to its absolute fullest - good and bad?

Nevermind.

I am drunk again.

Another bottle of wine down the hatch.

Anything to make it all pour out of me.

Like a waterfall.

I am, after all, my father's daughter.

Please God,
Please let my nightmares rest tonight.

MANTRA: Precious

Every time I turned on the radio this weekend, this song had played - including right now, this morning. I didn't listen to the words until I was driving back Saturday night from another mini road trip to clear my stuffy head... I was thinking about my friend who killed herself. That's another story I'll tell you... when I'm ready.

Didn't sleep again last night - up every hour. What a royal pain in the ass. And now back to being the only girl working with fifty men. Sweet... Surrounded by the enemy.

I know my life won't always be so confusing. I know I won't always have nightmares and panic attacks and lightening rod memories of my rape. I know it will get easier. I know that sometimes it just takes longer than others to accept and heal from this new life we did not choose, but were thrown into. This new life that is so foreign, blinding and foggy that even when I do get a moment's peace at a time, it makes my pain all worth it... because whatever is growing inside of me, this new life, this new understanding, this remodeled heart and soul, it is making me whole again. It is very painful and extremely draining, but if I have survived everything else thus far, there is no reason I can't survive my... well... survival.

Artist: Depeche Mode
Song: Precious

Precious and fragile things
Need special handling
My God what have we done to you
We always tried to share
The tenderest of care
Now look what we have put you through

Things get damaged
Things get broken
I thought we'd manage
But words left unspoken
Left us so brittle
There was so little left to give

Angels with silver wings
Shouldn't know suffering
I wish I could take the pain for you
If God has a master plan
That only He understands
I hope it's your eyes
He's seeing through

Things get damaged
Things get broken
I thought we'd manage
But words left unspoken
Left us so brittle
There was so little left to give

I pray you learn to trust
Have faith in both of us
And keep room in your hearts for two

Things get damaged
Things get broken
I thought we'd manage
But words left unspoken
Left us so brittle
There was so little left to give

"Why?"

"If you understand everything, you must be misinformed." Chinese Proverb

I have been doing nothing but a whole lot of thinking lately. Just driving around, listening to music, noticing the world around me, listening to Her, feeling my heart slowly accept everything she has denied for so many years...

A question I used to always get into trouble for asking as a young girl: WHY?

If I was told to clean my room: WHY?
Take out the trash: WHY?
Set the table: WHY?
Bedtime: WHY?

I always needed a reason. I always had to know the purpose. I had to know why my dad drank so much. I had to know why I couldn't do the same things as my brother. I had to know why the sky was blue, why the ocean made loud sounds, why my dad hated my grandpa, why Jay raped me, why there weren't more drugs around if they made me feel so good, why I was the life of the party on the outside when I felt so dead on the inside...

And my biggest WHY question yet: Why am I alive?

I know I'm not the only one who's asked myself this. But for me, personally, it's a tough question to stomach. I am beginning to realize there is rhyme and reason to everything. I am beginning to feel like although nothing makes sense to me right now, it may make sense in the big picture of my Life. I started thinking...

I have seven suicide attempts under my belt. Seven is a lucky number. Lucky 7. Let me remind you of my seven deadly sins: LONELINESS, BLAME, DENIAL, PAIN, DOUBT, FEAR, ANGER. My rapist lived on Alberta Street. Alberta has seven letters. My birthday is on the 17th. My rapist lived seven exits away from my parent's house. There are seven days in a week. When I was very young, I marched into my parent's office declaring I was writing a book about my life entitled: Seven Days in a Week. There are five senses tied to the body, seven if you include the mind and soul. I only trust seven people in this world: four girlfriends, my brother, my aunt, and myself. It took me seven years to finish college, dropping out when I returned to therapy... I couldn't do both at the same time. The first names to both my blog name & my real name have seven letters in them. My dad drank Seagram's 7 Whiskey. Whiskey has seven letters. I have been in seven car accidents. My address is 270. My work addresses are 670 and 771. I was raped on a Saturday, the seventh day of the week. The first time I admitted my rape was seven years ago. SURVIVE is a seven letter word...

Every single day I take a tired and excruciating step in this world, I wonder, "What's the point of it all? Why? What am I supposed to do with everything I have been handed? Why do I have really good days and really bad days? Why can't I just let it go? Or, better yet, why won't it just let go of me? Why the nightmares? Why the pain? Why the confusion? Why can't I just learn what I need to learn to move on?"

Because Life is not that simple.

Shit happens to everyone.

I am not alone in my survival.

There is not one thing to learn now or later to make it all better, simpler, easier to move forward.

No.

That is not what Life demands of us.

Living is:

Always questioning and trying to understand. Always striving for what you feel, not what you see. Always accepting what you are handed, although your plate is already too full. Always allowing yourself to ride the coaster of emotions because when you don't open your heart, you close your soul. Always playing to win even if you don't know the rules. Always loving when you have been hated. Always trusting when you have been betrayed. Always finding peace when you have been in war.

I know I must heal and learn from my experiences before I can fully accept who I am, but all of that confuses me. Don't I already accept all of this? Haven't I already moved on from it? Isn't this sharing proof of that? Or is it that there will always be new and different learning opportunities as I move forward? My best friends are getting married one right after the other... all of this "settling down" is quite unsettling. But only because I am beginning to think about my future and my children. What if I have a daughter? I don't want a daughter. I don't want her to suffer through the same things I have suffered through. What if I'm not a good wife? Or a good mother? What if my pain and turmoil continues until I destroy my relationship with my husband and children? What if I hurt my family like my family has hurt me? What if my daughter is raped and she fears me as I fear my parents?

What I know for sure: I don't know anything at all.

Except:

Our greatest destiny is to reach that point in our lives when we don't exhaust ourselves chasing after it.

Our greatest learning will come when we realize we will ALWAYS be learning... from EVERY experience, good and bad... and they both happen to all of us.

Our greatest healing will come when we accept we are not alone in our pain.

I wish I had answers. I wish I could fast-forward through the memories and nightmares to a time and place in my life where I am happy, safe and whole. It's mind over matter... If you wear a smile on the outside, you will feel it on the inside.

I am desperately trying to feel comfortable in my own skin again, except that I don't like it. I must constantly shower to wipe away his stains, the branded wounds. I am not white like cocaine. I am not white like my angel from the night I was raped. I am dirty. I am always brushing something off of me, trying to keep any more dirt away, trying to keep my scarlet letter as unnoticed as possible. I am raw and sticky, like his intoxicated tongue slowly raining down my innocent neck, small breasts and nauseating stomach.

I can feel him again.

I saw my friend, Jill, a few days after that night. She asked me what happened in his room. I was shocked.

"Nothing," I told her. "I was just uncomfortable."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Why?" I let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh. You just looked like you had seen a ghost or something. You sure nothing happened?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. I just didn't want to sleep in there anymore is all."

"Okay. Well, good. I thought he raped you or something!"

I froze. I let out another nervous laugh saying something like how ridiculous that sounded. I don't remember much else about what Jill and I talked about after that. I just remember needing to throw up somewhere but having no where to go... again.

I know Jay will not always be with me. Trust me... I know this.

Or do I??

Maybe this is why I have to see him. But what good will that even do? What will I even say to him? Why do I need to see him so badly? Why do I have to see his horrible and dirty face again???

If you are a survivor, you will understand the confusion, the flashbacks, the nightmares, the guilt, the incredible dirty feeling you can't get rid of, the anger, the regret...

If you are NOT a survivor, you will NEVER understand why we have good days and bad days, how the pain gets deeper as time progresses, why we love you and hate you, why we deny your honesty and support...

I am rambling tonight. I am confused. All I want to do is see him. I just need to go see him. And maybe kill him. I should take a gun and shoot him here and there, just watching him squirm and plead for his life like he make me plead for mine. Just watching the blood slowly ooze out of his pores... and then I would let in the wolves to lick it up and tear the rest of him to tiny bits and pieces.

Is it safe to see him again?

Am I walking into my own trap?

Should I go alone?

Who will I take that understands what this is like? Who will want to be there with me as I confront the biggest, most terrifying skeleton in my closet?

No one.

I have to do this alone.

I have to see Jay right now.

I don't know if I can wait until my birthday.

I may go sooner.

I really don't know much else anymore... except that he lives in Nevada and I have to see him.

MANTRA: Schism

Artist: Tool
Song: Schism

I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them fall away
Mildewed and smoldering, fundamental differing
Pure intention juxtaposed will set two lovers souls in motion
Disintegrating as it goes testing our communication
The light that fueled our fire then has burned a hole between us so
We cannot see to reach an end crippling our communication

I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them tumble down
No fault, none to blame it doesn't mean I don't desire to
Point the finger, blame the other, watch the temple topple over
To bring the pieces back together, rediscover communication

The poetry that comes from the squaring off between
And the circling is worth it
Finding beauty in the dissonance

There was a time that the pieces fit, but I watched them fall away
Mildewed and smoldering, strangled by our coveting
I've done the math enough to know the dangers of our second guessing
Doomed to crumble unless we grow, and strengthen our communication

Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any
Sense of compassion
Between supposed lovers/brothers

Risk

"He who doesn't risk never gets to drink champagne." Russian Proverb

I gave this site address to a few people I know. I don't know why I did this anymore. I'm kind of regretting it now that it's all said and done, but at the same time, I'm tired of wishing I wasn't "lying" to everyone by hiding what my life is really all about. I'm generally pretty happy but as I start to prep for publication, I am beginning to realize that there is so much shit I have kept buried so deep down that I am absolutely, positively, incredibly and indefinitely screwed up... in more ways than one.

My memories are electrocuting my insides. I wish I didn't give this address to my friends. But I did. I don't know why. Or maybe it's because of this:

Ever since I was a very young girl, I knew I would always be on my own. I had my parents, but I wasn't taken care of. Bad things happened. A lot. Things that when I am just thinking about them now make my tears rush forward... like a waterfall.

I am not sad. I am not angry. I am not in pain. I am not confused. I am not depressed.

I am just accepting.

I am just surviving.

I wonder what my friends will think of all of this shit their eyes are reading and knowing of who I really am. What are you thinking? How do you feel about me now? Don't feel sorry for me because I don't want your pity. I don't need your pity. I don't even need your help. I just need you to understand that real fucked up things happen to real good people and there is nothing anyone can do, except embrace the experience for what it's worth, integrate it into their lives, understand it is a part of their Life and move on the best way they possibly can.

I should really practice what I preach.

I haven't smoked pot in five weeks - a record, I think. So I've just been drinking. A lot. I have been making frequent trips to the store with each receipt reading only a healthy list of purchased wines and a grand total... think I've been wine shopping more than grocery shopping. I guess I'm killing two birds with one stone - wine is made from grapes.

I'm so confused that I cracked open a bottle of wine 30 minutes ago. Whatever I have to do to find my heart again. Whatever I have to do to make all of this ooze out of me so it doesn't continue to eat away at my insides, to burn them, to electrocute them to ashes.

I have to put my life back together somehow, some way. I have found joy in many people and experiences, but that isn't enough for me. My life is exactly where I need for it to be. Except that I am still disconnected from it all.

It's that angel I lost during my rape.

I can't get her out of my head.

When I left his house that morning, he smiled at me, as if to say, "Thanks for letting me rape you."

I was driving home with my best friend and told her, "I was naked last night."

She looked at me with this huge grin and said, "You finally hooked up!"

I said, "No... I was naked, but I wasn't supposed to be."

She looked at me with the same smile and said she was proud I finally hooked up. And that she was glad I had such a great birthday.

She heard my words, but she wasn't listening to what I was saying. I didn't say much on the way home. I knew I couldn't tell anyone if I couldn't tell her. I was just raped on my birthday and had no where to go, except back home to my dad's Canadian Whiskey, heavy hand and bottles of pills to overdose on.

I cannot believe I gave this site address to people who actually know me. What the fuck was I thinking?!!

I am thinking: Fuck this. Fuck all of it. Fuck my rape. Fuck my dad. Fuck the suicide attempts. Fuck the butcher knife into my stomach. Fuck my deadly car accidents. Fuck the rumors. Fuck aborting my rapist's fucking kid. Fuck the boyfriends who deserted me because of my rape. And fuck you, too, for thinking I am fucked up.

It only means I am normal.

It only means I am just like you.

Good thing I am drinking a bottle of wine at two in the afternoon. Sweet. I am, after all, my father's daughter. So this must be how it all begins...

I don't care what you think of me, dear reader. I don't even care about what my life has been like for so long because I can't EVER imagine being anyone else. I can't EVER imagine being someone to deny another's pain and not do everything in my power to help him/her to not feel so empty and alone.

I gave this address to people I know for two reasons and two reasons only:

1) This fundraiser: SURVIVOR AID FOR RAPE AND ABUSE AWARENESS is the most important, most rewarding, most fulfilling thing I can ever do in my entire life. The moment I realized I could very well be carrying my rapist's child - and had no one to go to - was the moment I realized I would dedicate the rest of my life to helping other survivors. It is surreal we are really making this happen. And we need all the help and support we can get to make this as successful as it deserves to be.

2) Fuck what people think of me... this is my life. If you don't like it, then leave. I am used to it. I am bigger and better than other people's opinions. I hold more strength and wisdom at my young age than most people can muster in their whole lives. I am not only a rape survivor, I am a proud survivor. Fuck Jay. Fuck his kid. Fuck the fact that he ruined my life. The truth is it could always be worse... and I'm not alone.

Years went by until I even told my brother what happened. I hate saying the word RAPE. I hate hearing other people say it. I hate seeing it staring at me on this computer screen right now... RAPE RAPE RAPE. It fucking sucks. It kills a part of you that you never knew you had, which makes the pain and suffering so much more unbearable. It touches pieces of your heart and soul you never knew existed. The only way these pieces came to life was through the pain of this experience... and when you start to realize there are parts of you already damaged - parts you haven't even had the chance to know yet - you get angry and confused, feeling like it's you against the world.

Last week, my brother said the word RAPE to me for the first time. I was talking to him about how everything is rushing back now. How I don't know what's going on. That I know this isn't my whole life, but everything is so fucking confusing because as I am prepping to write my book for publication, I am realizing there is A LOT of SHIT I just shoved away. I can't even sleep anymore... he's in my dreams every night. My brother has never said RAPE to me before. I froze. I felt so awkward and dirty. I needed to take a shower. I immediately flashed back to the moment I told him I was raped:

I was breaking up with a boyfriend - Hands Dropper. We met through our jobs. I had the night off, he didn't. We had already been having problems. I knew he was getting more and more disgusted with my rape. He was slowly drifting away... couldn't even look at me anymore. We took a trip to Lake Tahoe for a week over New Year's... he wouldn't even snuggle with me at night. It felt like I was kissing a wall when we kissed. I knew he was already gone. When we returned home, we had to deal with what was happening with us. He was supposed to come over after work to talk about why he's been avoiding me. I couldn't wait. I called him at work. He said, "I don't know why. I just can't. I'm not okay with it... I wish I was, but I don't know how to be. It just really bothers me... I'm sorry but I can't do this anymore." Before I could say anything, he had to go and said he'd call me right back. Five minutes later, the phone rang. I thought it was my boyfriend. It was my brother.

He was in a good mood. He asked what was going on, how I was doing... I just started to sob uncontrollably. I couldn't hold it in.

"What's wrong?" he asked me.

"I can't tell you," I said.

"Yes you can. What happened? What's wrong? I'm here... talk to me."

"I can't say it. I don't want to tell you."

The tears are starting to come again... I wish this wasn't my life, but I'm afraid it is...

I was crying so hard while my brother was trying to figure out what happened. I told him my boyfriend and I were breaking up right now because of something that happened and I was waiting for him to call back.

"Okay, baby. But what happened? You can talk to me. Just take your time and tell me what's going on."

I started to sob. "Something bad happened... with a boy."

"Like what? What did he do?"

"I can't say it. I didn't want it to happen. I tried. It wasn't supposed to happen." I was crying so hard.

"It's okay, sweetie, it's okay. You don't have to say it. But I'm going to ask you something and just say yes or no, okay?"

"No, I don't want you to ask me."

"Why not? You just have to say yes or no. You don't have to say anything else."

I started to sob again. "Please don't ask me," I pleaded with my brother.

"Why not?"

"Because you already know the answer."

Just then, call waiting beeped in. I told my brother I had to go. He said he would call me later. But before he hung up, he told me he had this nagging feeling all day to call me for some reason. He's been busy with classes, but today, while he was driving home, something inside just told him to pick up the phone and call me right now. So he did.

I think it's pretty ironic I am game for anything involving incredible levels of risk, like jumping out of planes, driving absolutely hammered, multiple suicide attempts, confronting my rapist in eight months... except the one and only thing I desperately NEED to risk now more than ever - my faith.

I have to risk it all in order to get it all back. I do have faith, but I don't exactly know in what. I don't believe in God, but who/what else would see me through all of this shit? I don't believe in love, but if my dearest friends didn't love me, then who else would save me from my excessive drug use? I don't believe in family, but where else did I come from?

I have to keep taking these risks. No matter how scary or how difficult they get, I have to keep taking each day one risk at a time in order to see the light of my next day. As much as I regret giving this address to those that know me, I will regret it even more if I stood in the way of them knowing the real me. I have to remember that it's okay to have a bad day, a rough night and painful memories because this is my life.

This is who I am.

For better or for worse.

This is my life.

Dear God,
Please help me to live it.

Survivors Can Thrive!: Survivor Aid--Dream to Reality

LINK: Survivors Can Thrive!: Survivor Aid--Dream to Reality

Okay... we are REALLY doing this.

Ever since the moment I was raped, I knew I would be a part of something huge to raise awareness and show The World that rape and abuse is happening EVERYWHERE.

It could even be your own daughter and you don't even know it yet.

My parents still know nothing of my rape.

I have been secretly planning and keeping all kinds of notes of all the different things I can do to help others survivors not to feel so helpless, alone, ashamed, scared, dirty, guilty... the list goes on and on.

I cannot erase what happened to me, but I cannot run and hide from it anymore. I am too tired and too broken to let Jay win again.

MY RAPE IS NOT WHO I AM, but it will always be a part of me. I cannot let my sadness embrace me. I cannot let my anger break me. I cannot let my fear shut me down. I cannot let my loneliness come to life.

Because I am not alone.

These are my dearest friends, pieces of my heart and soul working together to heal others as we heal ourselves.

OUR DREAM IS BECOMING A REALITY.

REALITY IS WHEN IT HAPPENS TO YOU.

I beg you to join us on our incredible journey!!

Angel in Silence

"Some stories you can tell. Some you spend the rest of your life trying to pretend they never happened." Jerry Stahl

I've been having a lot of Missing Link days lately. Days where I just spend time alone and do whatever I want to do, just go wherever the day will take me, do whatever I think of right then and there. Just need time to think about my life, to think about who I am and where I want to go. Just need to give my heart the space she needs to breathe freely. Just need to let Life and The World point me in the right direction because I am too blind and too broken to know what to do next.

I ended one of my Missing Link days one night by ordering dinner-to-go at one of my favorite local restaurants. I had some time to kill while they prepped my chicken ceasar salad and cajun shrimp pasta, so I wandered around for a little while and plotted myself in a local art store. This is a fairly new store, but I absolutely adore it because is sells things only made my locals. I find it quite inspiring to occasionally check out all of this local art. That was my ultimate favorite thing at my last job, a local gift store carrying all kinds of personal & handmade things. I was continuously touched at how I could almost feel the artist's passion through his/her work... and it was even more rewarding when I met these artists in person. More often than not, every single one of them had been through some kind of horrific tragedy - something so life altering that they devoted the rest of their life to their art because it was the one thing that helped to keep them sane and human. I can relate to that.

Anyhow, I found these matted pieces of art with different sayings written around handpainted images. There were plenty left for sale, but only one was left with these words wrapped around a colorful handpainted angel:

In my dream,
the angel shrugged & said,
If we fail this time, it will be
a failure of imagination
& then she placed
the world gently
in the palm of my hand.

I kind of freaked when I realized this was the last one left with this quote. It was a sign. I bought this piece.

This is a story of my rape.

I am 1,000% certain I will never forget this moment the night I was raped:

"Is this why you kept feeding me beer?" I asked him. He boldy held my face with both hands and repeated he wasn't "like that" or "one of those guys." I couldn't fight him anymore. I was tired, broken, drained, exhausted. It was happening. My worst nightmare. And I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't move. I went from being scared and tired to totally and completely limp and frozen.

I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling as he continued to take off my clothes and rape me. I couldn't beleive his touch was the first I would know. I just lay there, unable to move or make a sound. I wanted to call for Jill, my friend in the next room, but no sound came out. I was muted.

I don't want to cry, but the tears are starting to come.

THIS IS THE MOST POWERFUL, PAINFUL, HURTFUL MEMORY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE:

I looked up at the ceiling and saw myself looking back at me. I was dressed in white. White like cocaine. I was fluttering in place, holding myself there, watching my own rape. I had wings. They were white, too. Like white chiffon. I watched Jay rape me. I silently screamed at myself, my angel self, "Why is this happening?"

She replied only with a tender and reassuring smile: It's okay. We will get through this. She stayed there, fluttering, calm, smiling, watching Jay from above. Doing whatever he wanted, feeling like I was his right.

I was just floating there - angel like - while Jay raped me. I couldn't move. I couldn't make a sound.

The only thing I focused on during my entire rape was that angel. My eyes never left her. She was there for a reason.

I am certain this was the moment I disconnected from my body. Jay had my body now. He used it. I was damaged goods. I was trash.

One man's trash is another man's treasure.

I am a treasure.

A lost treasure.

I hyperventilated earlier tonight. That has never happened to me before. I have panic attacks. And nightmares.

I don't want to tell you any more stories about my life. There are too many like the ones your eyes have already read. But I cannot run and hide anymore. I cannot live in anymore fear.

LIFE = Living In Fear Everyday

I have run out of lies. So this is my truth. These are my wounds.

Time does NOT heal all wounds.

TIME BRANDS ALL WOUNDS.

It slowly and carefully makes my skin sizzle as the wounds fall deeper and deeper inside. I take shower after shower to put the fire out. But the salt from my tears becomes fuel for the fire. There is too much smoke for my heart to breathe freely... she is suffocating. I am branded:

R A P E D
A B U S E D
W A S T E D
A L O N E
S T A I N E D

My life will get easier. I will be happy. I will have a successful, healthy, bright and whole future. My past gives me the strength and courage to be an independent woman, a loyal lover, a trusting friend and a determined survivor.

My life will get easier. I will be happy. I will have a successful, healthy, bright and whole future. My past gives me the security and wisdom to be patient and aware, cautious and daring, giving and tender, alive and warm.

I am a lost treasure. I need my angel. But I have buried her deep inside with my dirty little secrets. I have to let her go. But what if she never returns? What if I never find her again?

If you love something, set it free. If it is yours, it will come back to you.

I have to set it all free.

I have to let it all go.

Dear God,
Please help me set her free. Please help her fly. Please let me rest tonight.

How I REALLY Feel

"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding." Kahlil Gibran

I only write what I know. This is what I know:

My dad was a mean alcoholic. My parents have NEVER said, "I love you." I have never fallen in love, or at least have had someone love me enough to say those precious, sacred words to me. I always knew I was different than everyone else ever since I was a young child. My life has never been easy, but it could always be worse. I want to fall in love but I am deathly afraid of it as much as I am of my rapist. My rapist was my first experience with a man... my first kiss was his tongue shoved down my throat. My dad had the heaviest, most intoxicated hand I have ever known, but he loves me more than anything in this world. Love really does hurt. I am a survivor. I am a believer. I am a dreamer. I am struggling to breathe every day. My mouth waters for an eight-ball of cocaine and a bottle of vodka, but I cannot slip again, or it will be the end of me forever. My best friend died in a car accident... wish she was here to talk to. My family loves me, but only because I am who they want me to be. I have a full mind and a full body but they are mismatched, disconnected and malfunctioning. I have a wise soul, always searching for something greater, something bigger, something better than what I have been handed. It's not about the hand I was dealt, it's about the game I am in... and I always play to win. I love life, but am deathly afraid to live it. I look in the mirror and only see my rapist's eyes staring back at me... "I'm not like that. I'm not one of those guys..." I know my past is in the past, I must live in the present, and my future is up to me. I am stronger than I feel. I am more beautiful than I can see. I have the world to offer to Life and all her children, except I am too scared to open myself up... I am too scared to know myself as a human being in this World... because I have never, ever felt human. But I am. These feelings are proof of that. I am human. I am a person. My dad did not intentionally hurt me, he just did. My rape was not my fault, it just is. I was raped on my birthday. My first kiss was my rapist's tongue shoved down my throat... at my very own birthday party. I am disgusting, dirty, stained, hopeless. NO. I am beautiful, mysterious, determined and so, so fucking strong. I am strong. I am stronger than my rapist. Only weak people rape... it is about power and taking it away from someone for your own self gain. But no, Jay, I am more powerful than you will ever be. You do not define me. You hurt me. The more I break inside, the more I connect with the outside. The more gray my life gets, the clearer my heart gets. I have to let my heart feel. I know I have to feel everything. This is my right. The good, the bad, the ugly... this is my life. It is my right to own it.

My 7 deadly sins:

LONELINESS
BLAME
DENIAL
PAIN
DOUBT
FEAR
ANGER

Acceptance: I accept what is my life and who I am... or do I? Am I challenging this? Am I being stubborn? Am I standing in my own way? I feel even more dirty when I realize my harsh truths and realities. Dear God, if you even exist, give me a few pills of ecstasy, a few bags of cocaine, a few tightly rolled blunts, a few handles of vodka... and another one-night stand to make me feel WANTED when I don't even want myself anymore.

Drugs: I want them now more than ever. My mouth is watering at the thought of rolling a bill and dancing with my favorite lady of all time: Lady Cocaine. She makes me feel clean... because she is white. The more I ingest, the cleaner I become. Oh, just thinking about her makes me miss her terribly. I lived next door to my coke dealer for so long. My LA dealer had a crush on me... he would always call when he had "really good stuff." I would never have to pay for it... it's tough being an attractive party girl, I suppose. "We're lucky you're hot," my guy friends would tell me. I was always the only girl still partying with all of them until six, seven or even noon the next day with mounds of cocaine and bottles of beer everywhere. Cocaine made it all go away. Lady Cocaine wiped my slate clean. Literally.

Love: I don't know what this is. The only love I have known is my love for the next big party. No. Wait. I am in love with the unknown. Life is a big unknown. Why my rape happened is a big unknown. Why it happened in the most fucked up, horrible, messy way is a big unknown. Figuring out how to abort my rapist's baby was a big unknown. And here is a flashback:

His hands were hot and eager. They brush my thighs as he removes my pants in one big swoop. I think, "This can't be happening. This isn't happening." I feel his breath in my left ear as he kisses my neck and makes sounds. He shifts his body directly on top of me. I melt under him. "Is this why you kept feeding me beer?" I ask him. I am crushed. Literally. I know what is happening. I realize this is my fate tonight. It is my birthday... and he will not stop until he feels like he gets what he deserves. He will rape me. My first kiss was his dry, coarse, drunken tongue shoved down my throat. He is raping me tonight, on my birthday, at my very own birthday party.

I don't know if I can ever forget his eyes that night. He grabbed my face with both hands as he told me over and over again, "I'm not like that. I'm not one of those guys. Okay? I'm not like that." But you are, Jay. You know you are. I know you have raped other girls. I looked for a gun in your room that night. All I found was socks to keep my feet warm and family photos on your dresser. I would have killed you if you had a gun. I would have lit you on fire and watched you burn into the same pile of ashes you left my heart in. You told everyone we had sex. You lied... that is why you never looked at me after that night. You know what you did. You know you raped me. You know you can't erase that. I will tell you when I see you. I hope, for your sake, that I don't have a gun.

What if I do kill him? What will happen to me if I see him lying there - dead, motionless, empty, cold... like me? No. I don't want to kill him. I want him to know what he did to me. Just like I cannot ever forget him, he cannot ever forget me.

My birthday is November 17. The day of my birth is the anniversary of my death... ironic, isn't it?

But I am going to see you, Jay, on the anniversary of it all... on my birthday. November 17. Will we talk? Will I yell? Will you try to hurt me? I don't know... but I will see you soon... My rapist's name is Jay and he lives in Reno, Nevada.

Big Idea - Need Your Help!

I wanted to post this here for anyone that is interested in helping.

Click on the SURVIVORS CAN THRIVE (Blog) link on my sidebar...

Read the March 16th post: Survivor Aid for Rape & Abuse Awareness

It's all about working together to raise money for survivor's aid relief... Check it out and feel free to comment any suggestions, ideas, thoughts or the like...

We appreciate any kind of support you can provide!

The Closet

I can feel another little breakdown coming on. I wonder if I am intentionally doing this to myself for some reason. Am I secretly beating myself up and blaming myself for my rape? Is this why I can't get it out of my head? Why do I keep remembering all of these horrible memories? There are too many. I am too young to have this much burning inside of my tired, fragile little heart... this heart that is barely hanging on by a thread... this thread that is about to break any second from the force of my tears rushing past it.

And the tears have started to come. I remember the closet.

My tears are so heavy right now. These words are blurring once again as I am trying to get this out. I can't keep it in anymore. I wish I wasn't alone right now.

The Closet:

I was in high school. My dad was really angry for some reason. He was really drunk... again...

I don't want to tell you this, but I have to. I have to get it out of me. I can't believe this is the only life I have known - this life of always being in constant fear and constant pain... physical, mental & emotional pain.

My dad was really drunk and angry. We were fighting. I wrestled him away from my mom and took it again. We were in the living room.

I can't stop my tears right now. I hate this.

We were in the living room. It was over and he went into the kitchen to refill his Canadian Whiskey and water. My mom was in the living room. I was exhausted and tired. The only thing holding my body together was my skin. My skin was the only thing holding this broken mess inside of me together.

I left the living room, walked down the hall and locked myself in my room. I heard things falling and him yelling again. I heard him yelling through clenched teeth. I knew he had my mom again but I couldn't go out there. I was too tired. I was already too broken. I just stood by my bedroom door and tried to listen through the crack. I grabbed my phone, walked into my closet, closed my closet door and called my brother at his college dorm. I prayed he would answer. His friend answered and handed him the phone.

I said hello and asked what he was doing. He said he was just hanging out with his friends watching a game. He asked what was going on - the usual small talk. I told him nevermind, that I would just talk to him later because it sounded like he was busy. My brother said he wasn't busy doing anything, they were just watching a game. He just started making small talk. I started to cry so hard.

"What's wrong?"

"It's so bad. I don't know what to do. I'm so scared. I don't know what he's going to do."

My tears have started to pour out of me again. Like a waterfall. I have never forgotten this night. It was one of the scariest nights of my life. I am certain my dad doesn't know just how much he has hurt me.

"What do you mean?" my brother asked me. "Where are you? Where's mom? What's going on?"

"I'm hiding in my closet." I am crying so hard that my brother can't understand me. I have to repeat myself over a few times to explain to him where I'm at.

"I'm in my closet. I have my bedroom door locked and my closet doors closed so he can't hear me." I tell my brother where my mom is and what happened that night.

"Are you hurt? Are you bleeding? What did he do to you? Where did he hurt you?" I am still crying so hard that my brother has to calm me down and ask me each question over again, one at a time.

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't know. I don't feel good. I hate this. I hate him. It's not fair. I just want it to stop."

"I know you do, sweetie. But you have to tell me if you're hurt. Where are you hurting?"

"I don't know. It's not supposed to be like this... I'm sore. I'm so tired. I'm just sore everywhere." I continued to sob uncontrollably.

"Are you bleeding anywhere? You have to tell me where he hurt you."

"No. I'm not bleeding. My arms and legs are just really tired. I can't move them. I just want to go to sleep."

"Do you want me to come home?" I start to cry even harder because I want him to come home so badly, but know he is too far away. I don't answer. He asks me again.

"Do you want me to come home? Tell me if you want me to come home."

"You can't. You have midterms."

"Fuck my midterms. I'll come home if you want me to."

"Yeah. I want you to come home. You have to. I can't do this. Please come home fast." I am crying so hard that I can hardly hold my head up while talking to him.

"Okay. It's okay, baby. It's going to be okay. But you have to listen to me, okay?"

"Okay."

"I have my keys in my hand. I'm just going to grab my backpack and I'm coming home, okay? I'll be home in an hour."

"Okay. I'm so tired. Just come home."

"It's going to be okay, sweetie. Listen to me. He's not going to hurt you, okay? Just stay in your room. I'm on my way. I'll be home in an hour. Just lay down in your bed if you're tired. Just stay there & close your eyes. Don't open the door. I'm leaving right now. I'm going to hang up now so I can come home."

"Okay. You'll be here in an hour?"

"Yeah. I promise. So I'm going to hang up now."

"Okay."

"Everything's going to be okay. I love you. I'll see you soon. Stay where you are."

"Okay."

My brother did make it home in an hour. He had the most disgusted, angry look on his face when he walked through that front door. He threw his backpack on the ground. He and my dad started to argue. They had a fight. They started to wrestle and my dad started to swing at my brother. But my brother handled himself - he wasn't the drunk one. They continued to fight. My dad crashed through the hallway wall. There was a big hole there afterwards.

I just stood there and watched the whole thing, knowing this was not normal, knowing this was not what other high schoolers were doing at that same time. My dad made a hole in the wall, just like he made a hole in my heart.

I will never forget that night. But now that I have told you, I may not have to remember it anymore.

Dear God,
I beg you to let me sleep tonight. Please. Just let me rest.

MANTRA: Crawling

Artist: Linkin Park
Song: Crawling

Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real

There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming /confusing
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending
Controlling /I can't seem

To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Wthout a sense of confidence and I'm convinced
That there's just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before
So insecure

Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real

Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting /reacting
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting how I can't seem...

To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced
That there's just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before
So insecure

Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real

Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real

There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming /confusing what is real
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending
Controlling /confusing what is real

God Is On Drugs

I have a dear girlfriend who is probably my most best and favorite girlfriend ever. We are very similar in a lot of ways. We have shared many ecstasy, coke-filled, drunken, trouble-making nights during (and since) our college days. But we have pretty much moved on from the hard stuff since then (although an occasional drug induced worry-free night does appeal to us here and there).

I remember when she moved away after college, we used to talk for hours about how fucked up Life can be... how she just hands us good days on a platter and then just - snap! - throws us in a dark hole and fucks us up. "Life really can be a bitch," we used to say. "She is really starting to piss us off. Why can't she just let things be sometimes?!" We have both been through so much in our lives and with our families that we just understand one another when either of us is feeling totally and completely lost and alone. There is no one else who can better understand how "the crazies in my head" (as I like to call it) operate better than she can.

During one of our many long-winded conversations, we somehow began talking about God and how the hell she decides what our lives are going to be like. We came to a conclusion: God does just as many drugs as we do. That is why the weather is always changing... just like our lives. God can't figure out our lives any better than we can. She fights with Life. She fights with Mother Nature. She fights with The World. Sometimes they all get along, sometimes they don't. When it snows, she's on coke. When it's perfect summer weather, God's on ecstasy. When the leaves turn that amazing fall color, God is on mushrooms. She trips on acid when there is thunder and lightening. And she smokes a bowls when the sun is setting.

I am struggling so hard these days that I need my girl now more than ever. I texted her to check in last weekend and when she asked how I was, I texted back that I am hanging on by a thread, everything is hitting me so hard again, and I don't know what to do anymore with any of this. And then I texted her again that I wanted to talk to her but nevermind because I will just sound like a broken record. This is our email contact:


Mon, 13 Mar 2006 - 11:57 am
Subject: hey
To: (The Missing Link)

hey there... how are you doing? i'm worried about you. what is bringing everything to the forefront again? don't ever feel like I've heard it all before, so you can't talk to me - I'm always here for an ear to listen.


Mon, 13 Mar 2006 - 12:34 pm
Subject: Re: hey

yeah... i know you're always there - who else would understand the crazies in my head?? i just get sick and tired of hearing myself talk about everything though, you know? it keeps happening every night - the rape - over and over again. the nightmares, the crying spells, the headaches, the nausea... it's all there again. this is the worst its ever been. its been bad before, but now, its like im remembering all of these things i haven't thought about it in years - even things about how bad my dad was w/his drunken rampages - meaning the hitting & how i would always get in the way when he would go after my mom so she would be safe & i would get it instead. things like when i was almost a month late w/my period after that fucked up night and how i had to secretly make arrangements for an abortion b/c i thought i was pregnant w/his fucking kid.

even just writing this email to you is making me cry but i cant because im at work. everything is so fucked up. I know it will get better, but its like... i dont know... its like now that im finally at that point in my life where i can focus on writing for publication, all of these "dirty little secrets" of my past are resurfacing... and hitting me so hard because its like the world is almost throwing it in my face and saying: LOOK - THIS IS YOUR LIFE. and i have to just accept it.

i dont know what to really do anymore w/any of this. all of this shit is really my life - that's all really hard to accept. and i cant imagine ever meeting someone that is going to be okay with all of this, you know? who would ever want to walk into all of this? who would ever want to be with such a fucked up crazy girl like me?? i dont know... everything is just so, so, so, confusing and super hard to digest - like each memory is cutting my insides so deep and the blood from all of these cuts are the tears that just pour out of me when i least expect it...

i just cant believe all of this shit that I've had to put up with my whole life... im too young to feel this old, you know? im only (age) and just feel myself rapidly losing hope.

im a royal fucking mess - just like my life.


Mon, 13 Mar 2006 - 3:07 pm
Subject: Re: hey

Jeez (Missing Link)... I'm so sorry you are going through all of this. I wish I could just erase your past for you! Are you specifically writing about the rape? Is that why it's bringing everything up? I wish I could tell you how to make yourself feel better. Maybe by going over it all and facing things you haven't thought about in years, you will work through it? I wish there was a good therapist or someone you could talk to. It's so hard to be locked in your head - you start to feel like that IS life. I'm not saying that's the solution but it might just help to have an outlet so you're not holding this torrent of emotions in.

As far as meeting someone - it's not true that you won't. So many people are fucked up in their own ways. There are empathetic, caring people out there and someone will see it through if they really care about you. But right now, you can't think that way - it's beating yourself up even more. First you have to help yourself get through this before you think about meeting anyone.

let me know if there is anything i can do and call me anytime. I can't stand the thought of you up there isolated and going through this alone.


I'm taking a little road trip next week to visit her for a little shopping, dinner and talk therapy. I haven't seen her in ages and miss our time together. We've planned to meet up next Wednesday... I can't wait to get out of here and hang out with her, to talk with her and not feel so damn fucked up and crazy. We have seen each other through so much in our lives. I need her now more than ever.

Doubting Everyone

I'm feeling about as fucked up as a girl can feel these days. Don't know what's going on. Just feel like it keeps happening over and over every night. It's been a really rough week. I have been testing everyone in my life lately - wondering what they want from me. Needing to know who I can trust and who I just want to shut the door on... Just when I think I can't possible feel any more crazy than I already do, I surprise myself...


Text Messages to Friend, Male - 03/14/06, 7:30 pm

ME: You should - your blog. Doing that with mine.
HIM: How do you do it?
ME: Unsure, figuring it out still.
HIM: Let me know if you find out for sure. How are you?
ME: Not good.
HIM: Why?
ME: You know what my blog's about.
HIM: Well, yeah.
ME: I mean I'm just struggling again...
HIM: Oh, I see. I'm really sorry. So you're whole blog is about that?
ME: Pretty much. & lots of other fucked up shit that's happened that would trip you out.
HIM: Damn. Well, sorry. Is it up yet?
ME: My site? Yeah, been posting for weeks.
HIM: Can you send me the address?
ME: You'll freak out with what you'll read. Trust me. It's not good stuff. I'm still struggling with all of it. You may never want to talk to me again...
HIM: Well, if you don't want me to read it, I understand.
ME: Don't know what I want or who I can trust - the memories are that bad right now. But also don't want to lie to you about what my life's really all about. Just need time...
HIM: Yeah, that's fine. Take the time you need. It's probably good for you to write about it.

03/15/05 - 8:50 pm

ME: Didn't mean to be short with you last night re: sending my site link. Just really confused about lots of things and people in my life right now.
HIM: It's all good. I understand. I'm kind of similar myself. I often wonder what I'm doing exactly.
ME: Yeah, mix that with the flashbacks & nightly nightmares & I am about as fucked up as a girl can get these days. Seriously want to kill him.
HIM: That's fucked up. Sorry.
HIM: When was it?
ME: My birthday... a while ago.
HIM: Damn. Who was it?
ME: Teammate of best friend's boyfriend.
HIM: I'm sorry. That's shitty.

03/16/06 - 7:02 pm

ME: Will send the - info if I figure it out but don't think I want to stay in touch anymore. Haven't really seen the point for a while... just being 100% honest.
HIM: Alright. Send it if you can. Yeah. I understand. It's probably for the best I guess. Hope things go better for you and definitely keep writing.
ME: Don't know if it's for the best, just really confused about what you want from me... and bailing is easiest right? Think it sucks but okay if you think it's for the best.
HIM: Well, I don't even know what I want from myself. I don't want to bail but I can't really provide much of anything. I'm not even a good friend right now.
ME: I'm in the same place with my life and what I can give. This is what rape does - makes you fear everything and everyone. I don't want to bail either, guess I'm just really lost.
HIM: Yeah, well I don't want you to fear me. I don't know what to say.


Nothing makes any sense to me. It seems that whenever I try to understand a situation better, I end up being more confused and drained than I was when I started. Why is everything and everyone so fucking gray and hard to read? Why is everything so blurry? Why do I have this desperate need to figure everything out? What is going on with me? I feel so damn crazy these days. This isn't who I normally am. I don't know where my head and my heart are anymore. Everything is so disconnected inside of me. Everything is malfunctioning. I don't work right anymore. I go through the day-to-day motions but nothing is processing. Nothing at all.

I'm sure this guy, and the rest of my friends, think I am absolutely crazy these days. No one can understand why I get into these weird places - I can't understand HOW I get here. I can't understand why I STILL can't trust ANYONE. I even doubt my own brother half of the time. I think everyone is lying to me, only out to use me to further themselves. Everyone is just using me as a stepping stone to better themselves and their lives.

What a twisted, twisted, fucked up way to live.

Except that I have never known any other life.

I am totally and completely fucked up.

I can feel it deep inside.

The fucked up part. It is a twisted, rotten, dirty mass that is buried deep inside of me. It has been buried there for so long that it has become a part of me. It is growing inside of me. It is growing with my insides. This is why I am malfunctioning. It has grown in the way of who I used to be - an attractive, funny, alive, smart, spunky, witty, beautiful person. This rotten mass has become bigger than me.

I don't know what to do.

I am totally & completely lost.

I am blinded by this twisted, rotten, dirty mass.

It has suffocated my heart.

It is resting on the replay button of my worst and most painful memories.

I am rapidly losing hope.

MANTRA: Crucify

Artist: Tori Amos
Song: Crucify

Every finger in the room
Is pointing at me
I wanna spit in their faces
Then I get afraid of what that could bring
I got a bowling ball in my stomach
I got a desert in my mouth
Figures that my courage would choose to sell out now
I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets
Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets
I've been raising up my hands
Drive another nail in
Just what God needs
One more victim

[Chorus:]
Why do we
Crucify ourselves
Every day
I crucify myself
Nothing I do is good enough for you
Crucify myself
Every day
And my heart is sick of being in chains

Got a kick for a dog
Beggin' for Love
I gotta have my suffering
So that I can have my cross
I know a cat named Easter
He says will you never learn
You're just an empty cage girl
If you kill the bird
I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets
Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets
I've been raising up my hands
Drive another nail in
Got enough guilt to start
My own religion
Please be
Save me
I cry

[Chorus:]
Why do we
Crucify ourselves
Every day
I crucify myself
Nothing I do is good enough for you
Crucify myself
Every day
And my heart is sick of being in chains

MANTRA: Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Artist: Green Day
Song: Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk alone

I walk alone...

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone

I'm walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line
Of the edge and where I walk alone

Read between the lines
What's fucked up and everything's alright
Check my vital signs
To know I'm still alive and I walk alone

I walk alone...

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone

I walk alone...

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk a...

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone...

Just Weather the Storm

It's been another really strange weekend. Just feeling - and hating - the tornados that zip around inside of me. Their force makes my toughest memories earthquake to the surface of my dirty and stained skin. This skin that I don't just want to peel off of me, but grate it off. I want to slowly grate it off of my body into little bits and pieces and then open the window to let this pile of grated skin just blow away wherever the world wants to take it. Just let it blow over here and over there, spreading itself thin to different parts of the earth's surface, planting myself wherever the world thinks I need to be. Anywhere but here.

The weather has been pretty nuts lately. I don't live in a snowy area, but the newscasters (who never know as much as they claim) were predicting snow just up in the hills from where I live, which is the beach. I finally crawled out of bed yesterday afternoon and as I was brushing my teeth, I heard a tapping on my bathroom window. Like little nails tapping softly on the glass. I turned around and looked out... it was hailing. Tiny little balls of ice falling from the sky. Weird, I thought. I have never seen hail around here. And I've been living here since college.

I struggled to take a shower and get dressed, crying off and on because I can't seem to get clean anymore. I always feel dirty. No matter how long I stand in the shower and let the water just run over my aching and beaten body, I am still dirty. Sometimes, because I am thinking so much (a problem I can't seem to get rid of), I wash my hair twice or start to shave the same leg over again because I forgot I just did that. And then I scrub again. And again. And soap again. And then just once more. And then I rinse again and just stand there while I let the water slowly wash away my dad's bruises and my rapist's fingerprints.

I made myself look extra pretty yesterday. I normally put on eyeliner and mascara, but used some light eyeshadow yesterday, too. I was feeling particularly dirty and drained so I took extra care to look "normal." I looked good. I looked happy - "looked" being the operative word here. I generally look pretty normal, I guess. You would think I have an incredible life from just looking at me, I've been told. Whatever that means. One guy - who was interested in me at the start of college - told me that I was one of those girls that guys would notice walking on the other side of the street and would want to run over to get to know better. I just had that whatever it was, he said. I don't know what he meant, but it was nice to hear... especially since I met him just after three high school friends died in a drinking and driving accident and another childhood friend had just killed herself. This guy wanted to date, I guess, but when he called me once, I pretended like I didn't know who he was. That was the end of that.

Anyhow, I didn't have a plan of action yesterday or anything... I just needed to get the hell out of my stupid place. The weather was shitty, but I just needed to get in my car and drive somewhere. Driving always helps me think. Just listening to music and driving. I filled up my car with gas and headed south. It started to pour.

As I continued on my drive, I noticed even the weather was confused about how it felt. There were black clouds to my left, blue skies above, and patchy white cotton ball clouds to my right. The ocean was calm. And then ten minutes later, it grumbled with choppy waves and loud crashes against the rocks. I was confused. It would sprinkle lightly. Then it would downpour for a solid ten minutes. And then the sun was out to join the blue sky. The world was so undecided and roller-coasting with her own emotions that she couldn't make up her damn mind. I was getting frustrated with her carelessness for my safety and well-being.

But who was I to get frustrated? The world was entitled to feel however she wanted, right? I was just as confused and rocky as she was. I feel sunny glimpses of blue skies sometimes, too. But then I panic when I see dark clouds in the distance because I don't know how hard the rain will pour out of my eyes during my next storm. At least I had a car to keep me safe and warm during Mother Nature's storms, but what about these life storms that keep interrupting my days and nights? What will keep me safe and warm during these storms? How do I feel safe when I have always been in danger? How do I stay warm when my heart is so cold from standing all alone?

I kept driving and listening to music, just thinking about how to make all of this stop inside of me. Or is that my problem? Is it that I have to feel all of this once and for all? Is it that the world, that Mother Nature, is - literally - showing me her storms as a means of helping me get through mine? I don't know...

I drove for an hour and found a store to pull into. I started to look for frames for some photos from a dear friend's recent wedding and a Caribbean vacation I took a while ago. Looking at these photos again, while trying to match frames, was a nice distraction - a little reminder that my life won't always be this difficult and draining. That I will, hopefully, be looking for frames to match to MY wedding photos because there will eventually be someone who won't be freaked out by my difficult and painful past. More than that, there will be someone who will understand that my difficult and painful past can, unknowingly and unsuspectingly, creep into the present. And he will also know that when this happens, there is nothing that I need more from him than to just be there to keep me safe and warm when I wake up from my nightmares.

Today was the same thing... another long drive listening to music until I felt like stopping somewhere. Pulled into a few stores and spent unnecessary money. But fuck it - I haven't shopped in ages. I needed to spend a little something on myself. I needed to do something nice for myself because all I have been doing is letting my past beat me up.

I saw three rainbows on my drive today, too. I have never seen three in a row. I have a picture of two in a row on my fridge because even that I rarely see. But three? That was pretty nice. And then there were two more going in the opposite direction... when the hell does that happen? Five rainbows criss-crossing in the middle of all of these confusing storms? Very strange, but very beautiful. Very mysterious, but very calming. Very hidden-message from the world to me, I thought:

Even in the worst of storms, you will find your beauty. As long as you keep your eyes open, your head up and your foot on the gas, you WILL move forward.

Wasn't Alone Last Night

Woke up in the middle of the night because I felt my bed moving. I was laying on my stomach with my head turned to the right. My right arm was tucked under the pillow where my head lay.

I suddenly felt the bed move, like someone was there. I felt it sinking in where my arm was. But no one was there, of course. I'm sure it was another nightmare. I hate it when I have these kinds of nightmares. Sometimes I even feel like someone is pulling the covers off of me or breathing in my ear. Very, very, very scary stuff.

Anyhow, I started to force myself out of my sleep. I tried to move, but I couldn't. My body was really heavy. It was the same kind of feeling like trying to yell but there is no voice to be heard. As soon as I woke up, I turned on my tv for light and noise again.

The night before last, I had nightmares about my cousin and her mom (the same two who pulled all of that shit and kicked me out of the house). This time, they were both egging me on, telling me fucked up stuff when no one was around - how they were going to do this and do that to make my life a living hell - and when other people came into the room, they played all innocent.

Fuck those bitches. I couldn't care less if they died tomorrow. They did whatever they could do to kill me, as far as I'm concerned. When I totaled my car and almost died right after they kicked me out, my cousin never even called - but of course I had to go see her when she had her fucking nose job. Bullshit. And when I totaled my car, her mom came over and needed to know exactly what happened in my accident because of how awful it was.

"Nothing," I told her.

"What do you mean nothing? Look at your car. It was something. How could it be nothing? Thank God you're all right. What happened?" she asked in her conniving, nosy, manipulative way.

"I mean nothing. You know what nothing means. The car just crashed. A lot of cars crash everyday. Mine was just one of them today."

She snickered and walked away. Too bad you bitches weren't under it, I thought.

Awakening

My aunt sent me the story below a while ago. I haven't even read it yet. Figured I'd read it as I post it here - despite the migraine I am getting right now. I have a feeling everyone can benefit from this one...


Title: Awakening
Author: Unknown

A time comes in your life when you finally "get it"... When in the midst of all of your fears and insanity you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out - ENOUGH!

Enough fighting and crying and struggling to hold on. And, like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your sobs begin to subside, you shudder once or twice, you blink back your tears and through a mantle of wet lashes you begin to look at the world through new eyes. This is your awakening.

You realize that it's time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change or for happiness, safety and security to come galloping over the next horizon.

You come to terms with the fact that he is not Prince Charming and you are not Cinderella and that in the real world there aren't always fairy tale endings (or beginnings for that matter) and any guarantee of "happily ever after" must begin with you and in the process a sense of serenity is born of acceptance.

You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love, appreciate or approve of who you are... and that's okay. (They are entitled to their own views and opinions.)

And you learn the importance of loving and championing yourself and in the process a sense of new found confidence is born of self-approval. You stop complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you (or didn't do for you) and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected.

You learn that people don't always say what they mean or mean what they say and that not everyone will always be there for you and that it's not always about you. So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself and in the process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance.

You stop judging and pointing fingers and you begin to accept people as they are and to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties and in the process a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness. You realize that much of the way you view yourself, and the world around you, is as a result of all the messages and opinions that have been ingrained into your psyche.

And you begin to sift through all the crap you've been fed about how you should behave, how you should look and how much you should weigh, what you should wear and where you should shop and what you should drive, how and where you should live and what you should do for a living, who you should sleep with, who you should marry and what you should expect of a marriage, the importance of having and raising children or what you owe your parents.

You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. And you begin resassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for. You learn the difference between wanting and needing and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you've outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with and in the process you learn to go with your instincts.

You learn that it is truly in giving that we receive. And that there is power and glory in creating and contributing and you stop maneuvering through life merely as a "consumer" looking for your next fix. You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a by gone era but the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life.

You learn that you don't know everything, it's not your job to save the world and that you can't teach a pig to sing. You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility and the importance of setting boundaries and learning to say NO. You learn that the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry and that martyrs get burned at the stake.

Then you learn about love. Romantic love and familial love. How to love, how much to give in love, when to stop giving and when to walk away. You learn not to project your needs or your feelings onto a relationship.

You learn that you will not be more beautiful, more intelligent, more lovable or important because of the man on your arm or the child that bears your name.

You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be. You stop trying to control people, situations and outcomes. You learn that just as people grow and change so it is with love... and you learn that you don't have the right to demand love on your terms... just to make you happy.

And, you learn that alone does not mean lonely... and you look in the mirror and come to terms with the fact that you will never be a size 5 or a perfect 10 and you stop trying to compete with the image inside your head and agonizing over how you "stack up."

You also stop working so hard at putting your feeling aside, smoothing things over and ignoring your needs. You learn that feelings of entitlement are perfectly okay... and that it is your right to want things and to ask for the things that you want... and that sometimes it is necessary to make demands.

You come to the realization that you deserve to be treated with love, kindness, sensitivity and respect and you won't settle for less. And you allow only the one who cherishes you to glorify you with his touch... and in the process you internalize the meaning of self-respect. And you learn that your body really is your temple.

And you begin to care for it and treat it with respect. You begin eating a balanced diet, drinking more water and taking more time to exercise. You learn that fatigue diminishes the spirit and can create doubt and fear. So you take more time to rest. And, just as food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul.

So you take more time to laugh and to play. You learn, that for the most part, in life you get what you believe you deserve... and that much of life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing fo something to happen is different from working toward making it happen. More importantly, you learn that in order to achieve success you need direction, discipline and perseverance. You also learn that no one can do it all alone and that it's okay to risk asking for help.

You learn that the only thing you must truly fear is the great robber baron of all time - FEAR itself. You learn to step right into and through your fears because you know that whatever happens you can handle it and to give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your terms. And you learn to fight for your life and not go squander it living under a cloud of impending doom.

You learn that life isn't always fair, you don't always get what you think you deserve and that sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people. On these occasions you learn not to personalize things.

You learn that God isn't punishing you or failing to answer your prayers. It's just life happening. And you learn to deal with evil in its most primal state - the ego. You learn that negative feelings such as anger, envy and resentment must be understood and redirected or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you. You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls.

You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of people upon earth can only dream about - a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower.

Slowly, you begin to take responsibility for yourself by yourself and you make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never ever settle for less than your heart's desire.

And you hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind. And you make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting and to stay open to every wonderful possibility. Finally, with courage in your heart and with God by your side you take a stand, you take a deep breath and you begin to design the life you want to live as best as you can.

Dialogue

Instant Message dialogue with a really good (male) friend of mine...

February 16, 2006

ME (8:06:56 PM): what up yo... just a quick hello to my little wisconsin student...

HIM (8:07:10 PM): hi there, girlie.
HIM (8:07:22 PM): I am actually in scottsdale, az, on a real estate trip.

ME (8:07:37 PM): oooohhh.. you doing good w/stuff & life?
ME (8:07:56 PM): i rec'd your email about dating that chick - so thats cool you've found a little friend :)

HIM (8:08:28 PM): yeah, just stressed b/c I've got an econ test tomorrow.

ME (8:08:51 PM): good luck w/that then - im feeling like total ass - got some horrible sick/flu bug.
ME (8:09:02 PM): just woke up to reload on the drugs
ME (8:09:20 PM): but back to bed for me... take care babe

HIM (8:11:18 PM): sorry to hear that girl. What have you been up to? haven't heard from you in a while. You generally ok?

ME (8:11:45 PM): id love to say yes, but the truth is things have been a real struggle
ME (8:12:04 PM): im planning a trip to see my rapist - uh.... yeah... im crazy

HIM (8:12:30 PM): What?? Do you know this dude? Was he a friend of a friend or some random dude?

ME (8:12:50 PM): he was a random from my junior college back home
ME (8:13:02 PM): a sorority sister works in a law firm and pulled a few strings for me
ME (8:13:22 PM): she has given me a few addresses & phone numbers matching the info i gave her from that night.
ME (8:13:54 PM): he's in nevada - im going in november - on the anniversary of it all... the anniversary is my birthday - eek
ME (8:14:33 PM): yeah - i am definately crazy

HIM (8:14:48 PM): Are you going alone???
HIM (8:15:05 PM): Did you ever file a police report?

ME (8:15:12 PM): no police report

HIM (8:15:21 PM): Why didn't you have some big dudes kick his fucking ass?
HIM (8:15:37 PM): what are you going to say when you see him?

ME (8:15:45 PM): havent decided if im going alone - who the F* would i even take on this trip?? so crazy

HIM (8:15:54 PM): are you bringing pepper spray?
HIM (8:16:21 PM): (Missing Link), before you go ... try to figure out what you want out of it and bring some kind of protection.

ME (8:17:08 PM): i dont plan to talk to him at all - he would deny everything anyway. i just need to see him... from a distance is all
ME (8:18:47 PM): i just need to take this trip to see him again is all... but i do plan on the protection stuff - just in case. you never know. life can get real fucked up sometimes right? okay... i better get back to bed. whoa - cant believe i just told you all of this. these drugs are crazy

HIM (8:19:01 PM): are you pissed? do you want to inflict pain on to him?
HIM (8:19:24 PM): well, goodnight, (Missing Link). Take care. You know that you can count on me to be a good friend.

ME (8:19:58 PM): yes. i really do want to kill him. but in such a tortured way to make his life as miserable as he's made mine

HIM (8:20:55 PM): Well ... I do believe in Karma. However, sometimes it's better to speed up the process ... you know what I mean?

ME (8:21:45 PM): i agree - if you find any machine guns laying around any one of your real estate trips, ship 'em out to me.... i have until november to practice the shooting.
ME (8:22:17 PM): later babe - please do call me to meet up during your next trip home

HIM (8:24:48 PM): not talking about machine guns ... it would be more of a psychological fuck. For example, if he is married or about to get married ... somehow let her know in a non-obvious way.

ME (8:27:19 PM): ooo... didnt even think about that one. keep sending me more good ideas like this if you have any more. im a woman on a mission to get her life back somehow, someway... whatever it takes. as long as it takes. but november 17 is it... crazy im planning to take a week off to do this. but i have to...
ME (8:27:50 PM): xo

HIM (9:08:17 PM): buena suerte

Losing It Again - FUCK

Just woke up to start another long work day & immediately started crying... even before lifting my head off of my pillow. I am crying now. But I have to stop. I have to pull myself together and finish getting dressed for work... And then I can pretend like nothing's wrong with me and everything is just fine. Work becomes a struggle in itself on days like this - I work with all men. I work at a construction company. Ironic, isn't it? Being the only female surrounded by at least 50 men all day long? Life really has her ways of... well... she just has her fucked up ways sometimes.

I don't know what's wrong. I am so alone and so tired. That is all. Just so alone and so tired and there is no one here to help me. I am a broken record. Who would want to be with me anyway? Who would want to even put up with all of my ups and downs? Who would want to deal with my roller-coasting emotions, my sleepless nights jam-packed w/nightmares, my paranoia, my fear, my horrible memories, my pain, my guilt, my confusion, my dirty, scared little body? Who would even want to be with a mess like me? No one... I am not beating myself up here - just telling you the truth.

This is my truth - anytime I have tried desperately to give someone the benefit of the doubt, it bites me in the ass - and then I regret never listening to my gut instinct because I tell myself, "You're just being weird. Let him in. Trust him. He won't hurt you like the rest." But they all do - spreading lies, not understanding, telling their friends & family about my rape, not wanting to touch me after they know the truth.

I really don't ever see myself being able to wake up to someone and whole-heartedly feeling like I can be myself. I don't see that as a possibility - even down the road if things get better. I don't see it getting any easier... and I just keep getting older and more scared and more alone.

My first kiss was my rapist shoving his tongue down my throat.

I can't get that taste out of my mouth.

Who would dare attempt to put up with this mess?? No one... No one is here. No one has ever wanted to stay when they find out what my life is really like. No one has ever wanted anything to do with me after they know the truth.

This isn't how it's supposed to be, is it? This isn't what my life is supposed to be like. So scared, so alone, so drained, so empty, so lost.

This isn't how it's supposed to be. I don't know how to change it.

I'm afraid this will never change.

I have to pull myself together for work. Another long day surrounded by the enemy.

I hate this. I don't know what to do.

Just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

My first kiss was his tongue shoved down my throat.

I just want to go back to sleep... but then there would be nightmares again. And the days are so hard.

I am screwed.

Please God,
Just make this go away. I beg you, just let it rest so I can rest. I am afraid I can't do this much longer... I am rapidly losing hope.

Rape Books I Own

Just posting incase anyone else can benefit from a little reading... Be forewarned, though - if you are a survivor, many of the words will strike a cord. It hasn't been easy for my eyes to read over these words... or for my heart to process. I can only do it in breaks - never reading one book from cover to cover and then moving onto the next. Instead, the only way I've been able to read any of this is a few pages here in this book and a few pages there in that book - always random reading... never in order... no rhyme or reason to which parts I choose to read...

I guess I approach this reading in the same way my rape effects & interrupts my life - random, no order, no rhyme, no reason...


JOURNEY TO WHOLENESS - HEALING FROM THE TRAUMA OF RAPE
Vicki Aranow & Monique Lang

THE POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER SOURCEBOOK - A GUIDE TO HEALING, RECOVERY & GROWTH
Glenn R. Schiraldi, Ph.D.

THE SEXUAL HEALING JOURNEY - A GUIDE FOR SURVIVORS OF SEXUAL ABUSE
Wendy Maltz

I CAN'T GET OVER IT - A HANDBOOK FOR TRAUMA SURVIVORS
Aphrodite Matsakis, Ph.D. (Specialist in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)

TRANSFORMING A RAPE CULTURE
Edited by Emilie Buchwald, Pamela Fletcher, Martha Roth

TREATING THE TRAUMA OF RAPE: COGNITIVE-BEHAVIORAL THERAPY FOR PTSD
Edna B. Foa, Barbara Olasov Rothbaum

THE TRUTH ABOUT RAPE - EMOTIONAL, SPIRITUAL, PHYSICAL & SEXUAL RECOVERY FROM RAPE
Teresa M. Lauer, M.A.

RECOVERING FROM RAPE
Linda E. Ledray, R.N., Ph.D.

THE RAPE RECOVERY HANDBOOK: STEP-BY-STEP GUIDE FOR SURVIVORS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT
Aphrodite Matsakis, Ph.D.

BEAUTY RESTORED - FINDING LIFE & HOPE AFTER DATE RAPE
Me Ra Koh

QUEST FOR RESPECT - A HEALING GUIDE FOR SURVIVORS OF RAPE
Linda Braswell

TRAUMA AND RECOVERY: THE AFTERMATH OF VIOLENCE - FROM DOMESTIC ABUSE TO POLITICAL TERROR
Judith Herman, M.D.

RECOVERY - HOW TO SURVIVE SEXUAL ASSAULT FOR WOMEN, MEN, TEENAGERS & THEIR FAMILIES
Helen Benedict

SEXUAL ASSAULT - WILL I EVER FEEL OKAY AGAIN?
Kay Scott

I NEVER CALLED IT RAPE - THE MS. REPORT ON RECOGNIZING, FIGHTING & SURVIVING DATE & ACQUAINTANCE RAPE
Robin Warshaw

The books below I have kept "on file" to buy. There are a lot, but I am sure you can understand why I have to do it little by little...

ACQUAINTANCE RAPE: THE HIDDEN CULTURE

THE AFTERMATH OF RAPE

AGAINST RAPE

AMERICAN FOCUS ON RAPE: SERIES VOLUME #1 - RAPE IS A SEX CRIME

THE CAUSES OF RAPE - UNDERSTANDING INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES IN MALE PROPENSITY FOR SEXUAL AGGRESSION

COGNITIVE PROCESSING THERAPY FOR RAPE VICTIMS - A TREATMENT MANUAL

CONFRONTING RAPE & SEXUAL ASSAULT

AGAINST OUR WILL - MEN, WOMEN & RAPE
Susan Brownmiller

AFTER SILENCE - RAPE & MY JOURNEY BACK
Nancy Venable Raine

MEN WHO RAPE - PSYCHOLOGY OF THE OFFENDER
A. Nicholas Groth, H. Jean Birnbaum

WHEN YOU ARE THE PARTNER OF RAPE OR INCEST SURVIVOR: A WORKBOOK FOR YOU
Robert Barry Levine

THE EPIDEMIC OF RAPE & CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE IN THE UNITED STATES
Diana E. H. Russell, Rebecca M. Bolen

IS IT RAPE? - ON ACQUAINTANCE RAPE & TAKING WOMEN'S CONSENT SERIOUSLY (LIVE QUESTIONS IN ETHICS & MORAL PHILOSOPHY)
Joan McGregor

TELLING - A MEMOIR OF RAPE & RECOVERY
Patricia Weaver Francisco

COGNITIVE PROCESSING THERAPY FOR RAPE VICTIMS - A TREATMENT MANUAL (INTERPERSONAL VIOLENCE - THE PRACTICE SERIES)
Patricia A. Resick, Monica Schnicke

EMOTIONALLY INVOLVED - THE IMPACT OF RESEARCHING RAPE
Rebecca Campbell

THE RAPE POEMS
Francis Driscoll

VOICES OF RAPE
Janet Bode

THE EMOTIONAL RAPE SYNDROME - HOW TO SURVIVE & AVOID IT
Michael Fox, Ph.D.

COPING WITH DATE RAPE & ACQUAINTANCE RAPE
Andrea Panot

A NATURAL HISTORY OF RAPE - BIOLOGICAL BASES OF SEXUAL COERCION
Randy Thornhill

HURTING & HEALING - HOW TO OVERCOME THE TRAUMA OF SEXUAL ABUSE & RAPE
Gloria Wade

SEX EQUALITY - RAPE LAW
Catherine A. MacKinnon

WHO'S AFRAID OF THE DARK? A FORUM OF TRUTH, SUPPORT & ASSURANCE FOR THOSE AFFECTED BY RAPE
Cynthia Cawsella

IF SHE IS RAPED - A BOOK FOR HUSBANDS, FATHERS & MALE FRIENDS

RAPED - HOW TO RECLAIM THE POWER YOU LOST THROUGH RAPE TRAUMA

NICE GIRLS DON'T GET RAPED

IF YOU ARE RAPED - WHAT EVERY WOMAN NEEDS TO KNOW

ATTITUDES & PERCEPTIONS OF RAPE VICTIMS TOWARD THEIR EXPERIENCE OF BEING RAPED

My last writing project in college was an assignment I created - a research paper entitled, "Psychology of a Rape Survivor." (It was definately one of the hardest things I ever did... the incompletion of this paper prolonged my college career by at least a year just because of how strong the memories & flashbacks were... like now...) I have on file, still, dozens of more rape books from this paper. I will share those later.

I am too tired now. My head is aching and I feel like throwing up. My eyes are burning. My body is really heavy and heated. I feel dirty.

Writing that list of books above just took everything out of me.

Dear God,
Please let me sleep tonight.

My Favorite Song Right Now:

This song takes me to a place I can't even begin to describe to you. Anytime I hear it, my world crashes to a halt. I can feel that little girl inside of me breaking slowly, little by little, trying so desperately to see the light peek through the cracks of this deep, dark hole her rapist threw her into.

Except she is blind...


Artist: Nine Inch Nails
Song: Everyday Is Exactly The Same

I believe I can see the future
As I repeat the same routine
I think I used to have a purpose
But then again
That might have been a dream
I think I used to have a voice
Now I never make a sound
I just do what I've been told
I really don't want them to come around again

Oh, no

[Chorus]
Everyday is exactly the same
Everyday is exactly the same
There is no love here and there is no pain
Everyday is exactly the same

I can feel their eyes are watching
Incase I lose myself again
Sometimes I think I'm happy here
Sometimes, yet I still pretend
I can't remember how this got started
But I can tell you exactly how it will end

[Chorus]

I'm writing on a little piece of paper
I'm hoping someday you might find
I'll hide it behind something
They won't look behind
I am still inside here
A little bit comes bleeding through
I wish this could have been any other way
But I just don't know- I don't know what else I can do

[Chorus]

How Do I...

accept my rape? accept what is my life? accept that this is a part of who I am - and it always will be? Why am I fighting the truth so hard?

I have always been in some kind of fight my entire life. I am always fighting. I was always fighting with my parents - my dad's dark whiskey and heavy hand every night, my mom's angry words and just-as-heavy hands during the days. My brother because I secretly hated him for leaving me there all alone. I had to fight my rapist. I had to fight the lies my dad was hearing about who I was with and where I was - who the fuck were these people anyway? I had to fight the stories that weren't true. I had to fight the eyes all around campus that whispered as I passed by. I had to fight an ex-boyfriend who was so disgusted that he couldn't even touch me anymore - The Hand Dropper from a post below - the one who told his friends and family about my rape... and then lied to my face when I confronted him about it... more people to fight. I had to fight another ex who wouldn't let me slow down with the sex when I needed to - The Questions Fanatic from the same post as Hand Dropper. I had to fight my cousin when SHE spread rumors about my rape and cocaine use to the rest of my family - and then had me kicked out of the house. She disgusts me - she made me fight more people - members of my own family.

I have always been fighting with someone, somewhere. I am so tired of fighting.

I am way too young to feel this old.

I am afraid I am losing the strength for the most important fight of my life - this horrible, scary, nightmare-filled, burning-eyes, dragging-heart, stained-skin fight I am in right now - the fight for my life.

I am on hold.

I need you to tell me what to do. I need the world to tell me what to do. I need answers.

But there are too many questions. I just need to keep fighting. I have to keep fighting.

But I am so tired of always fighting for something that I shouldn't have to fight for in the first place - my survival.

I have to fight for my life. No matter how badly my rapist wants to take it away from me, I can't let him. I can't let him win again.

But I am so tired of fighting. I can't do it anymore.

I just need to rest.

That is all.

Please, just let me rest.

Please, God, let me wake up from my nightmare.

This is YOUR nightmare. NOT MINE. I didn't ask for this. I don't want it.

Please, just let me rest. Let my nightmare rest.

You gave me this life.

Now you have to help me to live it.

I am too tired to do it alone. I am too beaten and bruised and scared and drained to do it alone anymore. You have to help me.

You have to help me breathe again. This is the life you gave me. It is your responsibility to help me live it.

Falling Apart

I just called my aunt to clarify what she meant by saying my rape isn't as big of a deal as the way my dad was. She clarified: I think that just reinforced everything for you. It was like your rape was the exclamation mark of everything else about what you thought & felt about the world. Like it took away the last bit of self-value you had because of how your dad was.

I just hung up on her.

I don't see the point of any of it anymore. Living is just so hard. I'm not going to end my life or anything - just need to let you know the truth about what rape can do to a woman. This is how everything makes me feel. This is how emotionless and dry and cold and empty I feel. I am not a person. I am not even human. I am not a part of this world. I do not belong. My dad wasn't shy of pointing out everything that was wrong with me. He had no problem at all telling me I was lying or making a mistake. Even when I told the truth, he believed all of the lies. After his drunken rampages, he pretended like nothing happened. "Where do you want to go to dinner?" he would ask as if nothing happened. "I'll buy my daughter dinner tonight, whatever she wants." The silent treatment was the only answer he got from me.

I am dirty and wrong. That is the story of my life. That has always been the story of my life. Just like my dad always pretended like nothing happened, so will I. Nothing happened. I wasn't raped. I was wrong.

I am, after all, my father's daughter. I learn from the best.

Fuck it all. And fuck you for not being able to erase this.

More nightmares last night. I was always going up and down a hill for some reason. As soon as I reached the top - struggling with every ounce of my being - I slid back down it somehow. I don't know why I had to get to the top of this hill or if anyone was with me or even what the fuck was going on in the rest of my dream, but that is what I remember over and over again... anytime I finally reached the top and looked down at what I had struggled so hard to accomplish, I somehow, magically, started to slide down again. And I couldn't even do anything to stop the downslide because I was too tired from struggling on the way up.

Just like I became too tired to fight my rapist all night. I was too tired and I let him rape me. I let him take the last crumb of my being away from me. I should have fought harder. I should have fought harder. Dammit - I should have fought harder. I should have stopped him. Just like I used to always stop my dad from going after my mom.

I am dirty and wrong. Nothing happened. I am my father's daughter.

Fuck off.

Do not judge me for how I feel.

I can feel you judging me.

So go ahead, then. Judge me. See if I give a fuck.

Judge me all you want. You're opinions are of no value to me. Just like I am of no value to myself.

So fuck off. Let me sleep tonight.

Dear God,
Please let me sleep tonight.

It's All Bullshit

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