Wednesday, May 31, 2006

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.


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?

Monday, May 29, 2006

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...

Sunday, May 21, 2006

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.


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.

Saturday, May 20, 2006


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.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006


DO NOT edit my shit.

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

I'm pissed.


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.


They are mine.

DO NOT take this away from me.

Leave me alone.


Saturday, May 13, 2006

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?

Friday, May 05, 2006


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.


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.


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


Thursday, May 04, 2006

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.


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....


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."

Monday, May 01, 2006


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...
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