Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Q & A

Text Message to Best Friend, Female - 02/16/06, 5:12 pm:
ME: Can I ask you something in total confidence? Just need your honesty.
T: Of course.
ME: Why do you think my rape is still so hard for me to process sometimes?
T: Because you didn't really deal with it until after a lot of time has passed. And maybe because you don't have much family support since they don't know.
Text Message to Best Friend, Female - 02/20/06, 4:29 pm:
ME: Can I ask you something in total confidence? Just need your honesty.
A: Of course.
ME: Why do you think my rape is still so hard for me to process sometimes?
A: Well, I'm not really sure what you've been doing the last year to heal but from what I knew before, I think you were not open or honest with your feelings. You pulled away from counselors when you didn't agree or if they struck a cord. Maybe with your anger you blame yourself also. Could be anything. But I think it's something that will always be with you. You just need to accept.
Email to Best Friend, Female - 02/27/06, 19:48:06
why do you think my rape is still so hard for me to process sometimes???

asking you because you are one of the few people who know my heart so well... just need your honesty...

(Reply) - 02/28/06, 15:17:38
I think it is harder for you to get over because you pushed it away for so long and are only now dealing with it (which is completly natural). I think it is a hard thing for anyone to deal with. I know that if you keep dealing with it in the present it will eventually become easier. I'm not saying that it will be something that you will ever forget, but instead something that will be less on your mind. I think it is important that you keep seeking therapy on a regular basis because it is not something that you can deal with on your own. And if you are trying to deal with it on your own, I can only imagine that it will take that much longer to get through (if you even ever will). I also think that it is important to remind yourself everyday that you are a special, amazing person. It is important that you build your self-esteem back up so can you tackle this one step at a time. And also to remember that your rape took away a piece of you that you can never get back, however, there is still so much of a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent person left. The good parts of you are still here and she is the person you need to concentrate on now. I am not sure if that makes any sense. I am just writing from the heart.

I love you and if you ever need anything, let me know.

Monday, February 27, 2006

Rain Rain Go Away

It's been raining all day today. Supposed to continue through the day tomorrow... or some shit like that. Work was crazy busy, as usual. Another nonstop 9.5 hour day. I finally drove myself out of the office, so exhausted, and just sat in my car forever after I got home. I was watching the rain fall down. It was hard, definitive and angry... yet soothing, comforting and clean. I was watching it slowly cover my windshield, each rain drop rapidly melting with its neighbors to form a sleek puddle pouring down.

I started to cry. These are my tears, too, I thought to the world. You are crying just like me, unable to stop once you start.

Nightmares again last night. They were strange and heavy. In the first one, I was on a journey with someone close to me just walking happily in the summer weather to get from here to there. We were so happy, sure, confident, whole, just trotting around making the most of the day. I think we were maybe headed to do some shopping or something, just girl stuff. And then, the longer we enjoyed our walk to get to wherever we were headed, the more we realized we were not alone. And we were lost. We saw three really fishy guys. I was nervous to talk to them, but we needed directions. They were approaching us in a triangle, one man in front and two behind him. They had an unfriendly and scary looking mid-sized dog. The men were really strange. I immediately had a funny feeling, but I asked for directions anyway...

They directed us this way and that. We were skeptical, but took their advice, especially since we hadn't seen anyone for hours. These guys were our best shot to get home (or wherever we were going) before dark. And it was going to be getting dark soon. I was getting scared.

And then, as we followed their directions, the landscaping changed. Suddenly, we were in an orchard or something. Trees all around, like a maze. It was almost as if these strange men directed us in this maze purposely - they wanted us to be lost. I was beginning to panic, but couldn't show it to my friend. If I panicked, then I knew she would panic, too. And that would not help us get out alive at this point.

As we rounded a corner, we were greeted by three large, gnarly, hungry looking dogs. One was black, one was brown and I don't remember what the other one looked like - I think it was white, but really dirty. They had a hungry look in their eyes and they were slowly beginning to show their teeth & growl at us. Being attacked by a guard dog in real life (he took out a chunk of my left side) I remembered that age old truth that animals can sense fear. "If you don't act scared," I told myself and my friend, "then they won't know that we're scared. Just pretend like they don't scare us."

We turned around to find an open field. I was grateful, but still confused with where to go once we walked through this open field since there were trees everywhere... trees as far as our eyes could see. So we turned around and started to walk away from this angry pack of dogs. They started to follow us. And then they started to jump up real high all around us, jumping as high as our heads, kind of circling us as we continued to walk... they were preparing to attack.

I woke up in a panic and drenched in sweat. It was 1:30 am. I turned on the tv for light and tried to go back to sleep.

And then another strange dream. I don't really remember this one that well, but I was alone and had to go to some kind of jail or something. The setting was the back parking lot of my old high school. I don't remember why I had to go to this jail or delinquent institution, but I remember it was a mistake. I remember that I wasn't supposed to be there, but I had to make this initial trip to clear up the situation or something. Like I had to make this trip to prove that I didn't belong there. Everyone was really strange. I was real weary of who I talked to and what I said. And I observed everyone real close, knowing that I wasn't one of them, but questioning if I really did belong there and just didn't know it yet.

My body was so heavy when I woke up this morning for work. I don't remember hearing my 4:30 am alarm go off. I just remember waking up and wishing it wasn't Monday and praying today was going to be okay.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Confused... Just Keep Writing...

I just read over all of my previous posts and am pretty shocked at how sad and defeated I sound. I'm sorry, but that's how I feel when it comes to my rape. No one even really knows about it. It's a secret. It's as if I am two people wrapped in one disconnected and lost little body.

I am a rape survivor. And then I am me...

I think I just realized what my problem is...

I am keeping my experience totally and completely separate from the rest of who I am.

I have been totally and completely disconnected from that part of my life for so long. Everything is hitting me so much harder now because it's had so much time to grow inside of me. The bigger I feel it get inside, the faster and deeper I push it away. But now it's just way too big and I'm way too old to push it away anymore. I have to figure out how to just be okay with me again.

I mean, I am okay with me, aren't I? I am starting to be okay with me, I think. I have shut out so many friends for so long and am just now beginning to let them back into my life. Even their friendship, though, I am doubting for some reason. And this is not like me. It's not like me to doubt my dearest girlfriends, my brother, my family. It's not like me to snap at strangers and be uncomfortable in social settings. I used to be the life of the party - the party and vacation coordinator, the one who made everyone laugh, the one who always was the first to arrive at a party and the last to leave, the one who made friends everywhere I went, the one who hated to be alone.

And now I see myself hiding more and running further away from who I used to be. Why am I doing this? Why am I scared to be myself? Why am I always living in fear and doubt? When will I feel safe in my own skin again? If this is the only thing I desperately wish for, then why can't I just do it????

I think the rambling on this blog site might be helping me to not feel so crazy, especially since I have found other sites of survivors writing of the same angers, pains, confusions, guilts... We, rape survivors, are NOT crazy. We are courageous. And lucky for surviving. Our rapist could have just killed us after he got what he wanted, but he didn't.

So I am alive, he got away with it, and now what?

Now what do I do?

Do I just say, "Okay. I was raped. Time to move on," and then I just move on? Okay - Let me try that...


I will let this be my mantra for the next few days. Okay. I was raped. Time to move on. Okay. I was raped. Time to move on.

But I need help with how I move on from this. I am moving forward with the rest of my life, which is going pretty well, but my rape has effected parts of me I don't even know yet. That is where the nightmares and triggered reactions come in. I have to start keeping a log of these things. I guess that is exactly why I started this stupid blog.

Even this lame-ass blog site is a secret. I wish I could share this with my friends and others I care about, but I am afraid I can't. At least not yet. My rape is mine - I have to fight with it, talk to it, deal with it, accept it, hate it, whatever... whatever I have to do with my rape, I have to do it alone because it is my rape. It is no one's but mine.

Until I confront my rapist, I am afraid this blog site will be a secret. Except to you, dear reader.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

I Don't Believe In Love

I cried myself to sleep earlier tonight. And then I had some really weird dreams and just woke up. My body is very drained from all of the crying. It just started to pour out of me - once it starts, I don't know how to make it stop.

Every night I lay my head down in hopes of gaining more than two hours of shut-eye at a time. I pray and pray that even in those two hours, I don't see, hear or feel my rape again. When I am lying in bed, fearing what kind of night this will be - thankful I made it through another day without challenging death - I begin to worry that the only thing so alive about my small and pathetic life is my loneliness.

I don't believe in love anymore. I don't believe there is someone out there who is strong enough to catch me every time I fall like this. I don't believe there is someone out there who is accepting enough of my rape and what kind of life it has given to me. I don't believe - even if I do find someone like this - that I will even believe him. I don't believe in happily ever after. I don't believe in soulmates. I don't believe that love conquers all. I just don't believe in any of it. It's all bullshit.

I do believe that I will settle with someone, but I won't be happy. I don't believe I will ever be happy again. Perhaps my negative outlook is subconsciously setting me up for failure, but I don't really believe that either. Even now, being so honest with you as I have never been with anyone else, tears have started to flood out me once again. These words are blurring as I am writing them to you. My eyes will be burning tomorrow from all of the crying. My body will be so drained from being so empty.

Why can't I make this stop??? I don't want to feel like this anymore but I can't - and don't - remember a time when I was happy and content with everything I was made up of on the inside and the outside. Am I being stubborn and angry? Shouldn't I just accept my past and be able to move on by now? I am very confused. I am even more confused with how deeply rooted the effects of my rape really are. I am so much more confused still with where that leaves me now.

My first boyfriend after I was raped dumped me because he couldn't move past the truth. He didn't even want to touch me anymore. I reached for his hand on the way to one of our last dinner dates. Without even looking over at me or saying a word, he let go of my hand and continued to walk straight ahead toward the restaurant. I can't even begin to describe what I felt when he dropped my hand out of his. I used to be "the most beautiful girl he had ever seen." And now I was the most repulsive, dirty and shameful thing he had ever been with. Our break-up was awful. I didn't want to date anyone after him. He was heartache enough.

Another boyfriend - the first man I thought I could fall in love with, but was so terrified of his reaction after learning the truth - had met someone else he wanted to pursue towards the end of our relationship. We were over long before we ever ended it. We had a healthy sex life... until the night I panicked when he was inside of me. I immediately made him stop, got up and ran out of the room completely mortified and terrified of what just happened. I felt myself rapidly fall down the same dark, bottomless pit my rapist threw me in. I tried to make it work with this one - I really, truly cared for him and wanted to be as mature and adult as I possibly could be. As time progressed, so did our relationship. But our sex life was quickly hitting a wall. I confessed one night. He immediately had a million and a half questions, making me feel like I was getting the third degree about every little detail. Didn't he believe me? Why did he need to know so much? I froze in fear and divulged everything, feeling so violated again. I felt even more angry with myself that I wasn't strong enough to be more up front about how uncomfortable he was making me, but more than that, I was angry that he thought he deserved to know everything right away. After that, things didn't look so great for us anymore. Our sex life was quickly diminishing - it was always an issue with us. I needed to slow things down. He never understood why. The day I called to tell him I was moving to another state, he told me he met someone else. I was crushed, but so relieved.

I believe I will never feel safe with a man again. Or trust him. I am very doubting of true intentions and my mind begins to work overtime with finding ways to prove these doubts. It's a very twisted, twisted game that goes on inside of me. It's a game I have yet to win. Except that I don't believe winning is an option. I think I will just get tired of playing the game.

I am already tired of playing the game. I just want it to end. Wish I had some pills to overdose on again. Wish a car would veer out of control while driving and just kill me instantly. Wish something fast and quick would end my life because I can't bear this numbing pain anymore. I am just one small, unnoticed, lonely, dirty, shameful, guilty, angry, sad, sad person with a leftover and wasteful life. No one will miss me if I am gone. No one will even notice. Not even you.

Friday, February 24, 2006

More Memories

I couldn't sleep last night again. All of a sudden, I began to regret sending that email to my ex-boyfriend - thinking I am so damn stupid for ever thinking he would ever want anything to do with me after the way I lied about why I didn't want to start the rest of my life with him. I miss him terribly. But only because I am vulnerable, I keep telling myself. See what is happening to me? I don't even trust my own feelings anymore.

And then, out of nowhere, I remembered a time in my life when I had taken up an eating disorder - bulimia. Everyone always assumed I was anorexic because of my small frame, but I never had any eating issues. I was always healthy. I used to be really sick as a baby - almost died a few times, I guess - but I never even thought about eating disorders or that I would ever end up admitting to having one. That is my struggle with my rape, I suppose - that I never beleived it could happen to me... until it did.

I took a year off of college and worked at a publishing company. I was making a lot of money and spending it all on partying - drinking and cocaine, mostly. Pot to help me sleep after doing lines all night. I blew all my money on... well... blow. That's when I started the bulimia.

It didn't last very long - only for a few months... or maybe longer, I don't know. But I remember the last time I made myself throw up: I went home for lunch and had some leftover pizza. I was watching TV and started to feel awful and real sad. I went upstairs to my bathroom and made myself throw it all up. I was surprised at how easy/routine this was becoming for me. I saw it laying there in the toilet, flushed it and watched it go down, stood up, turned around and stared at myself in the mirror. I began to just cry and cry and cry. And then I pulled myself together, washed my face, reapplied my makeup and went back to work as if nothing had happened.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

More Nightmares... and an Excerpt...

I've had more nightmares the last two nights. Last night I was being chased and couldn't do anything about it but keep running, despite how tired I was. All I knew was that I had to keep running... and so I did. I didn't know where I was going or who/what I was running from, but I kept running and running and running. The night before last, I was watched or stalked by a faceless person. I knew what happening, but I didn't have hard evidence for anyone to believe me in my nightmare. I was unable to talk or yell for help (this happens in almost every nightmare I have).

I kept having those weird jerks that shake you awake out of your sleep. And whenever I woke up from these hard jerks, I would look around my room in the dark - too scared to move anything but my eyes - pull the covers over my head and try to sleep again. I always try to think of something else, but it never works. Anytime I have nights like these, my nightmare either picks up where it left off or it starts all over again. I am exhausted. Just so drained and exhausted. Even though my rape is over, it still feels like I have him on top of me. He is still too heavy for me to breathe or push him off and away. Even in my nightmares, I am still too scared to yell for help because I still can't believe it is really happening.

But it did happen. I can't deny it. I have to admit what happened. I have to admit I was raped. Jay knows what he did. I know what he did. I cannot keep runnning away from it. I have to stop running from it. That is what Jay did - he lied about everything and made me a fool. I can't let him keep getting away with what he did to me. You raped me, Jay, and you have to admit it, too. I will tell you when I find you.

My aunt called me after work today to tell me about this story she found on Oprah's website. It's about a playwright who had - what Oprah calls - his "Aha!" moment - the moment everything began making sense, the moment he stopped being so angry about his life and his past long enough for his broken pieces to heal:

Tyler Perry

My father was a carpenter. He used his hands to pour concrete and hammer nails. He also used his hands to beat me.

I was a tall child, but sickly—I had asthma—and when I went to work with him, the sawdust made me cough. I preferred staying home, writing and drawing. I conjured up other worlds: worlds in which I didn't worry about being poor, in which I was someone else's child, a child who lived in a mansion and had a dog. My father—a man with a third-grade education who was orphaned at 2 and sent to work in the fields at 5—understood only the physical. He thought he could beat the softness out of me and make me hard like him.

When I was 21, I left my house in New Orleans and headed to Atlanta to be a playwright. I got a day job as a bill collector and scrimped and saved to put on my play I Know I've Been Changed— a musical about recovering from an abusive childhood. But even though I was writing about recovering, I wasn't doing it. Every day I felt angry and bitter and terribly lonely. I rarely dated, and if a woman told me she loved me, I headed for the door. My play bombed; 30 people came on opening weekend. I put it on the next year and the year after that, and each time, it bombed again. Finally, 28 years old, out of money and months behind on my rent, I started sleeping in my car. When the car broke down, I asked my father to cosign on a new one, as he had just done for my sister (the light-skinned sister he adored). When he refused, I forged his signature. And when the car got repossessed, he called me, yelling. Sitting in that little room I'd just scraped together enough money to rent, listening to him berate me, something snapped. Something dormant in me woke up, and I began to yell back.

I told him that he'd hated me since I was born, that I didn't deserve the things he'd done to me. Everything I'd ever felt or thought—even things I hadn't been aware of—came out. When I was done, the line was silent for a long time. And then, for the first time ever, my father said, "I love you."

After we hung up, I felt light, empty, and exhausted. I knew that I would never again look at my father in hurt or anger. But in a strange way, I also sensed that something had died. I sat crying for hours, as if I were in mourning. My energy source, my fight, the rage that had moved me every day—it was all gone.

Slowly but surely, I began to fuel my days with joy instead of fury. That year—call it coincidence, call it karma—my play sold out. Then it sold out again, and then again. I began to write new plays, and the theme of forgiveness runs through them all. It's simple: When you haven't forgiven those who've hurt you, you turn your back against your future. When you do forgive, you start walking forward.

Monday, February 20, 2006

I Was Raped for a Reason

Okay - two posts in the same night must mean I am really confused.

I don't know how to explain this, but I can't shake this nagging feeling that my rape happened for a reason. Maybe I keep telling myself that as a way to trick my mind into accepting it. Maybe I have to believe that in order to put one foot in front of the other. Maybe I will never know why Jay did what he did. But maybe I have to find some kind of answer to satisfy me in order to feel like I am something more than wasted skin and wasted space.

That's all I feel like I am - wasted skin and wasted space. This is how I described my place in the world to a rape crisis counselor once:

I'm a leftover... he just threw me away after he was done with me. He did what he wanted with me and then just threw my skin away - crumpled up like a piece of paper - in some dark, cold and dirty alley somewhere. There is nothing left inside because he took it. Only my shell - my skin - was left over. And then it's as if The World saw my crumpled up layer of skin and thought, 'I can't let this go to waste. I can make another person.' And so The World tried to make me whole again, picking up my skin and stuffing it with all the things required to be alive - stomach, intenstines, brain, heart, liver, etc... Except nothing inside of me fits properly because it isn't how I was originally made up. Everything is malfunctioning. I have horrible mood swings, crying spells, nightmares, social anxiety... all of this a result of being a leftover. The World tried to make me whole again, but it's almost as if she made things worse because I am a disconnected leftover with my rapist holding the missing parts.

Is This Blog Even Worth It??

I don't even know why I started this blog. It's not as if it will matter much - who will be reading this crap anyway? I'm sure people have better things to do than to hear about some girl's fucked up life and how she doesn't know what the hell to do with it.

I think I regret sending off that email to whats-his-face below. Oh well - what's done is done. Now if I could only remember that philosophy with the rest of my life.

Rape. Rape. Rape. Rape. Rape. I hate that word. I hate seeing it anywhere. I hate hearing it. I have heard it used as an adjective by my own family before, but not in the literal sense of the word. That even disgusts me more, that people don't recognize how powerful of a word Rape really is.

I don't know why I can't accept my rape, acknowledge that it is a part of my life and move on from it. I feel totally and completely alone, helpless and drained. It feels like no matter how hard I try to pick up the pieces and move on, I just get so confused with the next step. None of the pieces fit like they used to. Some are too big, some are too small, most are way too sharp and cut me deep inside, some are too dull and don't match. Whatever whole the broken pieces of my life make up is missing the middle, the lifeline - my heart. Although my emotions roller-coaster around at record breaking speeds, my heart is numb.

I don't think I have ever felt so fucked up before. I know I am not going crazy, but what if I am? What if my rape has created so many fears, anxieties, angers and pains inside of me that I will never feel like a person again? What if I never feel like I belong in this world?

What if my rapist killed me that night? Why didn't he? Why didn't you, Jay??? Why didn't you just finish me off and end it forever? Or perhaps this is your way of killing me slowly... the nightmares, the snapping, the triggers, the memories, the electric shocks of your hands and lips, the intense glare in your eyes...

I just wish you would have killed me, Jay. My life would be much easier if I didn't have to learn how to live it after you raped me... and left me cold, empty and alone.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Commitment Email Attached:

I am posting the following email because I have to remind myself I am worth staying in the game. I have to remember why I can't go through this alone - and that it is okay to ask for help. As scary and as horrible as The World can get, it's easy to forget we are not alone.

If you are a rape survivor, I beg you to not give up like I have wished too many times to count. Remember The World would not throw us any curveballs unless we are able to dodge them or, better yet, hit 'em out of the park.

My rapist was a baseball player.

Date: Tue, 14 Feb 2006 21:26:49 -0800 (PST)
From: (The Missing Link)

Subject: Re: angela shelton and stephen
To: (Landlord/Neighbor/Dear Friend)

hey nancy... just wanted to say thanks for stephen's number - but more that, thanks for the constant reminders that i do need help w/this... more than i may know. i have tried all kinds of counseling - group at (college), one-on-one at the rape crisis center and even reading on this stuff on my own. but its not over for me for some reason or another. despite how drained i am and how long my nights are, i have to keep trying, right?

after playing phone tag for a little while, stephen and i finally connected. he's placed me on both of his waiting lists and we'll see which one provides an opening first. after that, we'll see what happens. he is pretty costly, but i figured that i can have the $$ saved by then - at least for the initial appt because i have to try. he did say he can connect me w/more affordable people in town if i prefer, but im going to give him a shot.

in addition to stephen's wait list, im also going to begin hypno-therapy. im pretty scared about the hypnosis, but im at such a loss of what to do/where to go that i'll try anything. i'll be recording my sessions with this lady because... well... i have to in order to remember what's happening w/me right now. she's about as costly as stephen, but i can pay her in weekly installments so that really helps. i think i need the hypnotherapy vs. anything else because its different than any other counseling sessions i have had before. i dont know how i will react/handle this kind of therapy but i havent tried this before... and i just dont know what else to really do to feel like i have my life back, you know? i think the hypnosis will help me tap into the really bad/hard stuff i have shut out for so long - its this stuff that just runs me over like a freight train when i least expect it and then i just crumble for days.

my last counselor at the rape crisis center did a lot of hands-on therapy w/me, such as recognizing boundaries and learning to not be scared of touch anymore. this will still be a very difficult struggle for me - esp. when it comes to relationships/dating. im going to ask to start seeing her again, too, because i am (age) and realizing that the older i am getting, the more scared i become of living in this whole wide world.

my plate is definately full these days. i just wanted to say thanks for not only stephen's phone number, but just for the open door you and doug have always provided for me. just when i think things are getting better, life throws me a curveball and i feel like i am back at square one. i know that is not the case - the practical, logical & rational part of me recognizes that time DOES keep moving forward all the while im trying to get my life back, but... i dont know what it is that is keeping my heart from recognizing the same truth.

anyhow, my rambling aside, i have to keep reminding myself that, like you said, i cannot do this alone. and i don't have to do it alone. as much help as i need, i have to remember that its out there for me... i just have to be brave enough to choose it. so thanks for helping me choose to stay in the game... just because i didnt choose my team doesnt mean i still cant play to win.

(the missing link)

Monday, February 13, 2006

Too Scared to Sleep

I can't sleep again. And I feel like throwing up. And I can't stop crying. I'm so tired. I don't know how to make this stop. I can barely see this computer screen right now because my eyes are so blurry from crying. God... I really think I might throw up all over again.

I don't know what to do anymore. I am always at a constant loss of who I am or where to go. Ever since I was raped, I have been walking around this world like a empty shell. Ever since he raped me, my life has ended but I am not dead. So how do I learn to live again?

I think my life would be easier if I had someone I could count on and trust, but I know I can't have that until I learn to trust myself again. I used to be so social, outgoing and fun but now I struggle to just get out of bed in the mornings. I never know what kind of day I will have. Or what kind of night. Will I have nightmares again? Will I hear his voice and see his face everytime I close my eyes? Will I wake up in cold sweats and leave on all of the lights and tv because I am too scared and alone when it's dark?

My life has never been as confusing as it is now. I feel like I am always fighting with him, my rapist, Jay. I feel like he won't leave me alone. Like he left something with me and I have to give it back to him. But he took something, too. So he took what was mine and left me with what I can't get rid of. What a cruel, cruel life this world has given to me. I don't want it anymore. Seven suicide attempts are proof of that.

Have you been raped? Do you know anyone that was raped? If you answered yes, then I am truly sorry because I wish this kind of pain, turmoil, confusion, fear and loneliness upon absolutely NO ONE. Experiencing your own death, only to come out alive, is the most awful, draining, most difficult thing I have ever had to endure... and process... and accept.

How do I accept my rape? How do I move on from this? I desperately want to feel safe with a boyfriend or a lover. I don't want to doubt his intentions, but I can't help it. Some might say I can, but I really, truly can't. I have tried. I have been through too much counseling and have reasearched rape to no end. I have done everything... except feel it.

I know that is what is happening right now... it's as if I'm feeling everything for the first time and that is why my tears flood out of me uncontrollably when I least expect it... like now... I just put my head against the pillow, checked my alarm and closed my eyes when it hit me: I am all alone and too scared. I pray for an easier way through this. But there is no easy way out when you are raped. Everything is so much more difficult because it isn't about a mistake or a choice you made - rape is about your power, dignity, self-worth, attitude, personality, smile, love, heart, faith, hopes and dreams being ripped out of you so damn hard that you can feel nothing but yourself falling rapidly down a cold, dark black hole. You pray you will finally feel (whatever is left of) your body crash against the bottom of this hole your rapist threw you into. But you never hit rock bottom. You just keep falling faster and further away from the only world and life you have ever known.

My eyes are so tired from crying that I can barely keep them open anymore. I am too scared to sleep so I have to leave my tv on. Goodnight... for now... unless I have more nightmares of being chased and unable to move or cry for help.
Copyright 2006 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing and photocopying, recording or by any other information storage or retrievel system, without permission in writing from the publisher.