by Band Back Together | Sep 4, 2013 | Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Child Grooming, Child Sexual Abuse, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Healing From A Rape or Sexual Asault, How To Cope With Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self Injury |
The scars of child sexual abuse last a lifetime.
This is her brave story:
Hi, The Band. I’m not too sure where to start, so I’ll start here.
My uncle’s friend was a police officer. He had a daughter and we played together often; we were like a family all hanging out together.
One night, when I was I was 9 years old, I slept over at his home…everything changed..
Suddenly, I was in his bedroom, the room was dark, and he was on top of me. I started to feel him going in and out of me (sorry I’m not yet able to be specific).
It hurt so much.
I couldn’t do anything.
I couldn’t scream.
Wasn’t I supposed to do what he told me to?
I did. I turned when he told me to, I did all he told me to, and I did nothing to stop it. I just squeezed the sheets tight and hoped for it to be over. But it kept happening, like there was no end.
Finally it was over, or so I thought. Because even now that I’m 22, I still relive it over and over again.
I have PTSD with severe anxiety, seems like there’s no end to this nightmare.
Last year made it worse – my friend sexually assaulted me, I choose not to call it “rape” as it makes it seem so much worse.
I don’t know what to do or think; sometimes I don’t know how to live – I cut my wrist sometimes. Each time I promise that I won’t do it again, but it’s almost addictive especially at my low points. I don’t trust men, especially police officers – it’s ironic how those who are supposed protect us are the ones who hurt us.
I just need someone who can understand what I’m going through, someone who’ve been there, someone I can talk to, and won’t think that I’m too messed up.
I need help.
by Band Back Together | Aug 1, 2013 | Anxiety, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Depression, Fear, Loneliness, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Rape/Sexual Assault, Teen Rape, Teen Substance Abuse, Trust |
I’m a teenage sexual assault victim.
This is my story:
When I was sixteen years old, I was sent abroad to study and work. I was on my own – no family, no friends, and no jobs. And as I was underage, it was quite hard to get a job.
Finally, a nice man with a family – his lovely wife pregnant with his second, a son about a year old – agreed to allow me to work at his store without a contract.
I trusted him. His family allowed me stay overnight, cooked me meals, as his house was nearer to my school. It was nice. One night we decided to have a party. We all drank.
He took advantage of me while his family was upstairs.
Desperately, I tried to run away. As his family was upstairs, he followed me downstairs and locked the door and pushed me down onto the floor. I tried to pull away, but he had a hold of both my hands and legs.
He stole my first time; my only chance to make it special. He stole my carefree teenage years, my childhood, my lively personality.
After he was done raping me, I ran for the door and escaped to home. I was scared – I couldn’t understand what had happened; what was going on. I lost all sense.
The next few days, I spent alone in my room, staring at nothing, not talking, not doing anything. My friends reported me missing – eventually they came to my house and found me in this state.
But they didn’t know what happened. I was in denial; pretending I didn’t know what’d happened. They knew something was up.
I quit my job.
I cut all connections with everyone in that city and moved away. I changed schools, took medicine to quell my anxiety, I started (and stopped) therapy sessions as I didn’t want to open up to the therapist. I didn’t want to. I pretended nothing had happened to me – as long as I believed nothing had happened, I’d be fine.
Dose after dose, I took the medication until I became addicted. I’m addicted to drugs and alcohol – they make me forget what happened. They allow me to feel happy again. I can live my life without caring about anything. I started doing dangerous things and harming myself, hoping that if one of my “adventures” goes terribly wrong, I can finally die.
I considered killing him, but decided that was a bad idea.
I lost my connections, my friendships with other people – become antisocial. It’s extremely hard for me to make friends because I just don’t want to talk or share my story with others. I close up and let nobody in.
They think I’m weird, snobby.
I lost interest in everyone – especially men. I fell apart without my family, I’m depressed and anxious; I cannot sleep without drinking alcohol. I suffer nightmares; I’m extremely jumpy – especially in my sleep. I hit people or shout at them if they touch me, even if it’s a friendly touch. Suddenly, I’ll wake wake up crying without remembering what I’m crying about. I drove everyone away from me – in order to find joy and safety alone
At age twenty, I got into university and am doing a bit better. I managed to make new friends – even if they think I’m odd.
I was doing okay. Until recently.
Finally, it hit me that what happened wasn’t a bad dream. I was actually raped. I’m on the verge of breaking down again… just as I’m trying to start a new life.
I can’t let this happen again.
That’s why I’m here, The Band: to share and hear about others, to find comfort in stories that help me find the light again.
I’m hoping that by writing this, by letting it all out, I can start new again.
It’s never too late.
by Band Back Together | Jul 29, 2013 | Childhood Bullying, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Rape/Sexual Assault, Teen Bullying, Teen Heartbreak, Teen Rape, Teen Sexuality |
Anyone who claims the teen years are the “best of your life” is lying.
This is his struggle:
I was born in 1998, and until fourth grade, I was the big kid everyone knew and liked; I was popular and well-respected. No one bullied me. That all changed in fifth grade when I moved to Arlington, WA and started over at a new school.
My first – and worst – mistake was mistaking a jackwagon of a “friend” (who’s not much of one now) for a girl I liked.
You see where this is going – I was called “gay” and “bisexual” until the end of seventh grade when people forgot about it.
In the summer before eighth grade, I had my first real girlfriend. Over that summer, she sexually abused me, and I was traumatized.
After I ended it with her, I was scared of girls, until I met my previous girlfriend whom I dated for seven months. She was too scared to tell me when I was doing something that made her uncomfortable, so she left me. She broke my heart when she told that I made her feel like a “slut.”
It killed me to hear that.
After that, I screwed up, continued texting her, tried to be around her. That was a colossally bad idea. Things got so much worse.
People who’d been my friends turned on me because I’d hurt her, even though I wasn’t aware I’d been hurting her. Only few people tried to comfort me, trying to help my broken heart.
One day after a long track practice, I was finally getting over her, and a few buddies were fooling around, relaxing and telling stories. We were chatting about cars, girls, and fishing and I brought up some stupid (yet true) things about my ex-girlfriend. One of those guys told her.
After a month, I texted her, asking who’d told her what I’d said. She confirmed it was one of the guys from my track team. I lost control and punched him in the mouth – not because he’d told her, but because he’d lied to me; telling me he hadn’t told her.
Her parents showed up at a fourth of July parade and stopped to pet my dog. I looked in her Mom’s eyes and shook her Dad’s hand. My ex hid her face behind her hair.
I learned that her new boyfriend is one of my most trusted (well, WAS trusted) and close friends. I have ADD, an unusual form of OCD, which means that it’s far harder for me to get over things. Something a normal person forgets about in, say a week, takes me months. Since what I’m trying to get over is heartbreak, it takes more than months to work through.
I was sentenced to eight hours of community service for juvenile assault. I’m finding ways to express myself – music, friends, and cars.
I’m now helping a friend who was sexually abused get back on her feet, and spending more time with my girlfriend. Wish me (and my friend) luck, The Band!
Thanks for reading, The Band.
Do you have any advice for me?
by Band Back Together | Jul 27, 2013 | Child Abuse, Child Grooming, Child Sexual Abuse, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Loneliness, Self Injury, Statutory Rape, Teen Bullying, Teen Rape, Teen Self Injury |
The scars from childhood sexual abuse have far-reaching consequences.
This is her brave, brave story:
I’m a senior in high school – you’d think I’d be able to control my thoughts and emotions by now.
Nope. Totally incorrect.
I hate people, well, most of them anyway. For being judgmental. For being jerks and assholes when they have no idea what I’ve gone through. No idea what I’m going through.
I feel so alone because there’s no one to help me cope with my fucked-up brain. Now don’t get me wrong: on the outside I appear to be a normal, suburban, teenaged girl. On the inside…on the inside I’m dying; just waiting for death to overtake me.
This is my story.
I have two brothers who live with me at my Mom’s house. My brothers shared a room with bunk-beds until I was twelve. When I was six, we had a babysitter named Bradley, who happened to be some sort of cousin. When he’d come to babysit, we’d all hang out on the bunk beds – my older and younger brother on the bottom bunk while Bradley and I were on the top bunk.
One time, I was laying on top of him and he reached his hands into my pants asking me “can you feel that?” over and over. He’d do this again and again to me, only stopping when it was his turn on the video game my brothers were playing. Naturally he wouldn’t have a free hand to stick down my pants.
I thought what he was doing was sex, so I for one, wasn’t going to tell anyone – I was afraid I’d get in trouble. I’ve not seen him since. I kept this secret until seventh grade, when I told my best friend and cousin, Catherine, as well as my best friend at school, Kameron.
That’s when all hell broke loose.
We saw the counselor who called my mother. My mother initially thought I was lying, but finally believe me. She took me to my Dad’s, insisting that I tell him about the sexual abuse. I called Catherine over for support.
I’d already sobbed to the counselor and my mom, so by that point I was numb. My dad continued to question me; scrutinizing every detail. At one point he asked:
“Why aren’t you crying? If this actually happened to you why aren’t you crying? Why is your cousin the only one crying?”
That ended that.
Three years later was my sophomore year in high school, and everything was going really well. I had my first actual boyfriend, an amazing guy Daniel who he was all for God. On the outside, I looked like I was okay.
However, I’d begun cutting; self-injuring – constantly slicing my wrist open for relief of external pain. I was repulsed by anyone touching me – I couldn’t handle it. Not even my brothers. I even asked Daniel if we could stop kissing and he was okay with it; figuring we’d been moving too fast. Eventually, asked me if anything ever had happened to me.
I told him no.
I told my mom that I couldn’t kiss Daniel, and she knew that I needed to talk to someone. My Aunt Nina, Catherine’s mom, died the beginning of my sophomore year and I felt too guilty to bring my problems on her.
Three months into therapy, I finally understood that there was no possible way that I could’ve wanted what happened to me as a child. Despite the cliche from Good Will Hunting: “it’s not your fault,” but those words bring closure.
We were having a big family sleepover at my house with all the teenage cousins piled together on the couch. After I fell asleep that night, I felt something on my leg. I was so confused. I realized, it was my cousin Cole’s hand trying to pry open my legs. Baffled, I tried to close them; turned over and pretended I was asleep. That didn’t happen so I gave up.
My therapist asked me why I didn’t “wake up” and confront him. I was frozen, I explained, I was fifteen and my worst nightmare was reoccurring. He did finger me and when I “woke up,” he pretended he hadn’t done a thing. In the shower, I bawled my eyes out. When people say they never feel clean after rape or sexual assault, it’s true.
My therapist encouraged me to tell my mom, however, I knew our family would never be the same again – it would be my fault. Again.
For some reason or another I stopped going to therapy. I spent my junior year empty on the inside. Daniel and I had broken up before the Cole incident so I had no one but my friend Chance to talk to. The bullying began my junior year.
First and foremost, I’m not fat. I am five foot eight and 150 pounds, give or take a pound. I do have an unusual bra size, 32 FF. I’m “mooed” at for having “utters.” Eventually, jokes went around that I was on the cover page of a porn site. I’d never willingly done anything more than kiss my boyfriend on the lips and now people were making sex jokes about me for my fucking bra size? Absurd.
Then I met Chase. Weird dude, but mysterious. On our first date he forcefully unbuttoned my jeans and stuck his hands in my pants without my permission. I got up out of the movie theater, caused a scene, then left. Haven’t talked to that fuckface since.
I feel like I’m losing my mind.
I’ve become an insomniac, I’m always crying. I’ve prayed constantly, not receiving any answers. How can I be sure of myself? How can I be confident enough to trust not just others but myself? How can I tell myself over and over that I won’t let something like that happen to me again when it’s happened over and over?
I don’t know what to do.
He took my innocence. I dreamed that God would be kind. I dreamed my life would be so very different from this hell I’m living. Life has killed the dream I dreamed.
—————–
How have those of you who’ve been through childhood sexual abuse come to terms with the abuse? Can you give this brave girl some advice?
by Band Back Together | Dec 23, 2010 | Healing From A Rape or Sexual Asault, How To Cope With A Suicide, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sadness, Shame, Stress, Suicide, Trauma |
You had been my friend for 13 long years when you raped me.
You were my best friend’s husband, my son’s god-father.
You were someone I always trusted and could count on.
That one fateful night we were hanging out at Downtown Disney and I got drunk I told you I didn’t want any more, but you kept buying shots. Looking back now, I see this was your plan. I passed out on the way home, only to wake up with you on top of me. I tried to push you off, screaming NO and fighting to push you off me, but you just covered my mouth and told me to shut the fuck up and that you knew I wanted it too.
I passed out again.
The next thing I knew, I woke up in the morning next to my husband. I knew what had happened the night before. I heard your wife out in the kitchen with your kids and my son.
I tried to forget, tried to pretend nothing happened. I tried to go on with my life, but my marriage fell apart for various reasons.
Years have gone by. Six to be exact.
Then I get a phone call from your wife. She is crying and upset. She fills me in on the past year, that you guys were having problems. Then she drops the bomb – you had killed yourself.
Now I feel like I can’t tell anyone what happened. To tell your wife, one of my closest friends, would ruin her and tear apart our friendship. It has been too long to tell anyone else. So now I must live with this.
You have forever changed me. I can’t trust people anymore, even those closest to me. I am glad you are gone. As selfish as it is, I am glad you are not a constant reminder of that bad moment in my life.
by Band Back Together | Dec 9, 2010 | Abuse, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Helping Someone In An Abusive Relationship, Psychological Manipulation, Rape/Sexual Assault |
Duck is my husband. He is the rock in my life. He keeps me tethered to the earth when my mind might otherwise let me float away. But there are some negative things in our relationship. Some negative things in our lives. Things that are starting to break me down. Break his hold on me. I’m starting to get lost in my head again .
When I was a teenager, I was in a severely abusive relationship. He emotionally, physically, and sexually ripped me apart. He destroyed my physical well-being, my sense of self, and my sense of personal safety. He took away my strength. He took away everything I had.
I got out of there. It took years of leaving and returning, but I finally escaped when I was 18 after a near-death experience at his hands. I don’t talk about the years of my life that he stole. I try not to remember them. I try not to think about the fear he put into me. The fear that I thought would never go away.
My Duck, my wonderful wonderful Duck, made me feel safe again. My Duck is teaching me that I have value in the world.
But my life isn’t letting me feel that anymore. Duck’s mother lives with us. She’s going senile. And as she loses her grip on reality, she’s getting mean. Really mean. She uses a tone of voice when she talks to us that is the same as the Abuser used. She calls me names. Makes me feel insignificant.
How do I keep my fragile sense of self from breaking when I’m surrounded by the same sounds as broke me in the first place?
