by Band Back Together | May 21, 2014 | Bullying, Romantic Relationships, Self-Esteem, Stalking |
We all have letters we’d like to send, but know that we can’t. A letter to someone we no longer have a relationship with, a letter to a family member or friend who has died, a letter to reclaim our power or our voice from an abuser.
Letters where actual contact is just not possible.
Do you have a letter you can’t send?
Why not send it to The Band?
My sister called you “The Blond to End All Blonds.” There was a good reason for this. After you had been in my life, I had no interest in any other blonds until I met my husband.
I kept you on a pedestal. You were my ideal. No one could compare to you.
8th grade was a really hard year for me. I don’t know why that group of girls targeted me, but the bullying was rough. They made fun of my hair, my clothes, made me feel worthless. My mom and my sister were very supportive during that time, like they always were, but it wasn’t enough to keep my spirits up.
Then came the basketball game where I met you. I only sat next to you that night so I could have a chance to talk to the other saxophone player sitting on the other side of you. Justin was really popular with the girls, and I could never find a moment when he wasn’t talking to some girl. I don’t know why I was so brave that day. I wasn’t normally like that. I figured I could strike up a conversation with the cute blond sax player while waiting for a chance to talk to Justin.
You seemed startled, but pleased when I sat down and started talking to you. I still remember what you were wearing that day: blue jeans and an olive green sweatshirt with a bird on it, a parrot, I think. The longer we talked, the more Justin disappeared from my mind.
From then on, the weekends were what got me through the difficult weeks. My sister was always happy to let me hang out with her and her friends. I was at all of the high school football games, basketball games, and concerts – anywhere the band members would be. I would have gone with her anyway, but you were an extra incentive.
It was very flattering to have an Older Man pay attention to me. You were only two years older than me, but because you were in high school, and I was in junior high, that was a really big deal. You were always so sweet and so kind to me.
I’d never seen anyone look good in those horrible marching band uniforms, but you did. I will never forget the night of that one football game. I stood there holding a heavy quilt because it was supposed to be very cold that night. As I listened to the band teacher gruffly instructing everyone what he expected of them, I looked over at you. You grinned at me.
My heart stopped.
That was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen, and it was just for me!
You never came right out and said that you liked me back, but your actions did. I felt like the only thing keeping you from pursuing more of a relationship was the fact that I was only in junior high.
I was sitting behind you at a football game one afternoon, talking to one of my sister’s friends about the party we were all going to that night. I made a point of mentioning whose house we would be going to, for your benefit.
Little did you know you were actually going to show up!
A car pulled up in front of the house that night. I heard one of the seniors say that it looked like your sister’s car. When I got outside to see what was going on, I saw a pack of boys standing around the car. They all looked too afraid to come closer with all those big senior boys in the house. I yelled for you by name. The other boys laughed and said you weren’t there, but when some of the bigger guys came outside, and everyone jumped back in the car, I saw you.
I got up the nerve to call you the next day. Our conversation was a little weird and awkward, but you were sweet. You admitted to being with the boys in the car the night before, but wouldn’t say anything else about it.
Was I wrong to believe you were there for me?
But then came the horrible news that you were moving. I was heartbroken. After you left, I used my school connections to find out what school you had transferred to in Texas. I wrote you a letter, and mailed it, care of your new school. In it, I jokingly threatened to write to you constantly until you answered me. I regretted it as soon as it was in the mail. It sounded creepy. I was sure you would think I was insane when you read it. I never wrote again, but I missed you all the time, and always wondered what might have happened if you hadn’t moved away.
A couple of years passed, and I took a trip to Washington to visit a friend. On the way, I had a long layover in Utah. My sister was going to school there, and we took the time between my flights to go shopping. We drove to the mall and pulled into the parking garage.
As we looked for a parking place, I noticed a familiar face. I asked my sister if she thought that looked like your sister. My heart stopped again when I realized the guy walking behind her looked just like YOU. I begged for my sister to stop the car, but she was afraid she would lose me if we didn’t stay together. She rolled the window, yelled your name, and YOU TURNED AROUND!
As soon as we could find a parking space, I was on the hunt for you, but I never found you. I cried through much of the flight to Washington, devastated that I might have just missed my chance to connect with you again.
You and I are friends on Facebook now. I’ve apologized about basically stalking you back then. I’ve thanked you for making me feel good about myself during that tough year. I enjoy seeing pictures of your family, your wife and pretty little girls. You look so happy, and I’m glad.
I’ve tried to ask you more than once if that really was you in Utah that day, but you won’t tell me. I wish you would. We all have unanswered questions that we wish someone could answer. You have the ability to ease my curiosity. It’s an important question to me because seeing you that day opened the doors in my heart to allow me to fall in love for the first time.
Thank you for being kind to me at a time when I really needed it.
by Band Back Together | Apr 14, 2014 | Guilt, Loneliness, Long Distance Relationships, Major Depressive Disorder |
This is the first time I’ve stumbled onto Band Back Together and found much strength in your stories. Thank you, The Band.
My story began when I moved to a small town for a job – the furthest I’ve been from home. I tried hard to fit in, but I’m a quiet person which can make friendships difficult. My boyfriend and I had been doing long-distance relationship for two years. It’s tough, but worth it. In the meantime, I wanted to keep myself busy.
This fall, I joined a choir and after our Christmas concert, I was introduced to a guy in the choir. He asked about my after-concert plans – I’d planned to go home, but gave him my contact information. Soon, he dropped hints about how pretty I looked when I sang, that he’d admired me during choir rehearsals, he spent every week looking forward to seeing me again.
I told him that I was flattered, but that I had a boyfriend. Could we be friends? He agreed that we could be friends, which made me happy. We started getting to know each other. When he suggested we hang out, I said yes – no harm in that. He came over and opened up to me.
He disclosed a major tragedy he’d been through two years before and the major depression he’s experienced since. He shared every detail, how it affected him, and how rare it is for him to trust enough to disclose. He said that since we’d been talking, he felt happier; more optimistic. How difficult remaining friends is but he’d have to figure out a way. I supported him as he spoke, reminding him I could only be there to support him as a friend and if he couldn’t handle it, I’d understand.
He never left.
We found ourselves talking more as my relationship with my boyfriend became distant. My friend took me out of social isolation and introduced me to new things. One evening as we watched a movie, he rubbed my ankle. I’d not had physical contact in such a long time and it was comforting. Part of me thought, this will lead me down the wrong road. When he asked me if it was okay, I said a guilty yes.
He offered to drive a girlfriend and I to the city to catch our plane home for the holidays. We were staying in a hotel overnight and I didn’t want him to stay the night with us so I asked if he’d be okay if we had “a girl’s night.” A few days prior, he’d offered to stay at a friend’s place that night so I didn’t feel awkward. He was hurt, manipulating me. He said I was tossing him aside like he didn’t matter. When I offered to drive alone, he maintained that he’d drive. So I allowed him to stay in our room.
At the hotel, he tried to touch me, which made me uneasy. I’d shift my weight away from him but he’d inch closer. I reminded him that I’m with someone else; I can’t let these things happen. It’s not right. He made the comment, It’s not like you have a ring on your finger. I reminded him that I’d committed to a long-term relationship, and even if I wanted to be with him, I couldn’t give up on my boyfriend – even if we were going through a rough patch. He refused to look at me or talk to me. I left, hoping he’d understand.
I returned to the room, uneasy. I’d wake during the night to him entering and leaving our room. I hated to see him hurting. I didn’t know where he was or if he was safe. I was up all night worrying. What if something had happened to him and it was my fault?
He drove me to the airport. He didn’t say much but it was clear he was devastated.
The following day he told me that he needed to talk to me; he couldn’t do this alone. I said I wanted to be here for him and help as much as I can. We discussed his troubled past and when we were done, he said that he felt better and went to sleep.
I tried to get the past few weeks out of my mind during the Christmas break, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I worried about him. Finally, I broke down and told him. We messaged back and forth, as I was enjoying my Christmas with my boyfriend.
Sometimes, he’d ask inappropriate questions, was “I with my boyfriend now? Is he sleeping next to me?” I told him the truth. He was fixated on my return and he kept asking for clarification about our relationship – what was I to him?
He knew I was starting to develop feelings for him. I told him that right now, I saw him as a friend, but I didn’t know what would happen in the future. If something were to happen between us, let’s let it happen naturally. Let’s just enjoy our time together.” He accepted that. He knew while I was having doubts about my boyfriend, I wanted to let my heart guide me.
Once I returned, things got tangled. I tried to remain faithful and honest to my boyfriend. When my friend tried try to kiss me, hold my hand – any of that stuff – I’d turn away, which hurt his feelings. My feelings were getting stronger – I knew I’d feel badly no matter what happened – if I stayed with my boyfriend or if I fell for my friend. It was getting harder to resist him. I’d only speak to my boyfriend a few times each week.
Watching a movie one night, it all went to hell. My feet were sore so I asked him to rub them for me. When the movie was over, I realized his hand was traveling up my leg. My head said no, my body said yes. I was so nervous as he tried to take my pants off. He stopped when I asked him to, but then he kissed me and ended up on top of me.
Afterward, I was disgusted with myself – how could I let this happen? We promised it wouldn’t happen again, but it did. I wanted to tell my boyfriend … but would he blame me?
He asked me to make a commitment to him and I told him it wasn’t that easy. Clearly, I loved my boyfriend and the stress of our friendship was causing me emotional harm. I asked him to back off – we could still hang out and be friends, but no more physical contact until I got my mind straight.
We hung out with friends that weekend and he stuck to our agreement – most of the time. Occasionally, he’d try to initiate sex, but I reminded him that I needed to get my mind straight. After the weekend was over, I stayed the night at his place. I was afraid of being alone. I woke up to him making advances on me. This time, I let the sex happen. I felt so much hate – hate that I’d given in, hate that he’d continued pursuing me.
It happened again few days later: I went to his house after work to watch a movie and we both fell asleep. We went to his bed and I awoke to his advances I just let it happen. I was on autopilot, going through the motions. I even ended up on top. Afterward, I felt violated, like he didn’t respect me. He felt sad that I felt this way, so he apologized to me.
I left.
The next morning, I had a panic attack about what we’d done the night before. That’s when I decided to call my boyfriend.
I woke him up and told him what had happened the night before.
I was afraid he wouldn’t understand me or believe me, so I painted a violent picture of the sex the night before, making it sound like an attack; a rape.
He told me to go to the police.
Initially, I refused. He said that if I didn’t call them myself, he wouldn’t believe the sex wasn’t consensual. He threatened to call them himself. Again, I was put into a corner again by someone I trusted.
I went to the police to report my attack.
I told the police I didn’t want to be there, but that my boyfriend needed me to go to believe me about the sex. I was clear – I did not want to press any charges. He’d been through enough, and I didn’t want to add to it. He’s my friend, he’s not a bad person.
None of that mattered.
The police questioned me. I can’t remember half of what happened or what I said, I just wanted to get it over with so I could tell my boyfriend that I’d gone to the police. I didn’t want to do this to my friend. After investigating for a few days, I was asked to come in for further questioning.
Unfortunately, this was so, so traumatizing for me.
The police asked me a number of questions:
“How long had I been with my boyfriend?” Two and a half years.
“Have I had sexual relations with another man during the summer?”
Yes.
(After all her questioning, I started to understand why victims were afraid to report a rape)
She went through the text messages that me and my “abuser” sent back and forth during the previous week and pointed out the ones I’d sent that didn’t support my story:
“I really like feeling connected to you.”
“I know it’s going to be difficult, but we have to have no contact for a while.”
She was implying that I’d enjoyed the sex we’d had. I started crying. She asked me the final question:
“Did he sexually assault you? Yes.
She asked again, clearly not believing me, “did he sexually assault you?” Again, I said yes.
She sighed and asked again, “Did he sexually assault you?”
After asking after the truth three times, I realized that I wasn’t going to win. I felt broken down – I wasn’t going to win.
This time, ready to be done with the police, I said, “no.”
The lecture she gave me felt like I being kicked!
She told me by reporting the rape, I’d wasted her time, the doctor’s time, my friend’s time, my boyfriend’s time.
That I’d just made it harder for real victims to come forward.
She was appalled that I could do such a thing.
She asked why I was still with my boyfriend – I’d made it clear I don’t know what it means to love someone.
That I am emotionally unstable and the damage I’ve done to the accused and his family is beyond repair – the only thing I can do now is to be honest with everyone and tell them that nothing happened.
I had a friend who drove almost two hours to stay with me after my “rape.”
She asked my friend to come in and said to me, “Now, what do you have to say to your friend?” I sobbed knowing that she wanted me to tell my friend. I couldn’t admit it. The cop told me she wanted me to see a counselor and she would call me in two weeks to check up on me to make sure I was seeing someone for help.
It’s been three weeks and she hasn’t called me yet …
A week after the police report about the rape, my abuser sent me a message, stating that he couldn’t believe that I’d tried to ruin his life by accusing him of rape after consensual sex. I was furious with him: When did I say “yes”!? When did I out-and-out say that I wanted to have sex with him?
I’m still really upset about the cop having the audacity to accuse me of not knowing what love is; that my abuser actually believed that I’d said yes, to the sex.
I’ve told my boyfriend the full details of that night and he doesn’t understand. Of course he was mad that I lied to him, but he wants to move past it and wants me to heal from the rape. I feel I don’t deserve the kindness he shows me.
Choir starts next week, and the man I accused of rape will be there. I don’t want to stop choir because it is something I’m proud of – I wanted to share my talent and my light. The light that I had before though, I feel it’s burnt out after all that I’ve been through. It takes so much effort to smile and pretend that I’m okay inside when I feel nothing but pain, hate, shame. I want to be that girl – the one who had so much hope – again, the one who wanted to do all that she could to help anybody that needed. I don’t know where she is now.
I am thankful I got the opportunity to write all of this down without letting anyone know who I am. I don’t want to be judged for what I did and what happened. I’m returning to my community in a few days and am terrified of the judgment I may get.
by Band Back Together | Feb 14, 2014 | Coping With Losing A Partner, Fear, Help With Relationships, Infidelity, Loneliness, Marriage and Partnership, Partner/Spouse Loss, Romantic Relationships |
This is a very hard thing for me to admit.
I’m in love with two men.
I am a happily married woman. I love my husband completely and am fully committed to him. We have a great life together, three beautiful children, and a nice home. I have no complaints.
But my husband is sick. He has multiple health problems that could take him away from us at any time. He could live to be 90, or he could die next week. It’s hard to know. I know that his death will be heartbreaking. Every health scare brings me to tears.
There is a very dear friend of mine who I have known since childhood. He has been there for me through thick and thin. In our younger years, there was a time that he was in love with me. I didn’t feel the same then. He eventually moved on, got married, had children of his own. But every once in a while, I get a glimpse of the love he still holds for me.
I realized a few months ago that the feelings I have for him go deeper than just friendship. I am in love with him. I think the love for him has been there for a long time, I just didn’t see it.
I am very careful to make sure I don’t do or say anything inappropriate. I could never hurt my husband, or my friend’s wife. I don’t say things to him that I wouldn’t tell my husband, and I don’t spend time alone with him, so nothing could be construed as improper. This is not a case of physical or even emotional infidelity. I keep my feelings for him tightly locked inside my own heart.
The problem is each time my husband’s health sidetracks our lives again, I find myself daydreaming about a life with my friend – being married to him. My friend’s marriage has never been stable. I picture us in the future – my friend divorces his wife, then my husband dies. My friend and I get married and spend the rest of our lives traveling and enjoying each other’s company.
Maybe it stems from my fears of my husband’s death. Maybe I just don’t want to be alone. Maybe it’s just easier to imagine a life without that fear of death constantly looming over my head. Maybe I just need therapy.
It is what it is, and I can’t change it. I love my husband. I want him. But if I can’t have him, I want my friend.
by Band Back Together | Jan 4, 2014 | Anxiety, Fear, Guilt, Romantic Relationships |
Oh my gosh, why?
Why do I feel like this when I shouldn’t?
Why do I feel like I need to be with him?
Why do I feel like he should be here with his arms around me, holding me tight, saying he loves me, while standing outside under an icicle tree, just looking at the sky, saying that one day I’ll be his forever?
Am I different then before?
Did I change?
Was he just using me?
Was I just one of his back-up plans?
Plan B?
2nd choice?
Do I deserve to be a back-up plan?
Am I not good enough?
Did he mean it?
Was it real?
Was it just a dream?
Is he doing this to me on purpose?
Why me?
Does it mean something?
Did it mean something?
Am I missing him, or the feelings I felt?
Was it a spark?
Is it just me?
Is there a reason I feel like this?
Did the kiss mean something to him?
Did he feel like I felt?
Did he feel the spark that I felt?
Does he remember?
Will it happen again?
Should he know how I feel?
Will we kiss again?
Does he want to?
Is he going to?
Will I let him?
Will Maddie find out?
Will she be mad?
Will I lose my best friend?
Will she forgive me?
by Band Back Together | Dec 3, 2013 | Breakups, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Fear, Guilt, Psychological Manipulation, Psychological Manipulation, Romantic Relationships, Suicide, Teen Heartbreak, Teen Sexuality |
I was fifteen, and I thought I had met the love of my life.
Of course, when you’re fifteen, everything is the end-all, be-all of your life. You think that the day you fail your history exam is the worst day of your life; that your first job will kick-start your career as a successful businessperson; and the boy sitting at the outdoor table by the bus ramp with a cute smile and big arms is your future husband. At fifteen years old, I was sure I would love no one else but him for as long as I lived.
Because I was not raised a Christian, abstinence to me was always more of a personal preference than a spiritual promise. At fifteen I was not ready to have sex. I’d had only two boyfriends before, and only one of them ever got close enough to kiss me.
And then it all changed.
He was 6’3″, Hispanic, and had no plans for the rest of his life. He had a beautiful smile, was the ultimate smooth talker, and he loved to hold my hand. In short, I was doomed to fall for this guy. I met him at lunch one day; he offered me his seat. I guess that was the first time I ever liked a guy at first sight. Four days later he asked me out. Within two months of dating, I knew I loved him.
He was not a virgin, while I was as virgin as it got. I told myself I was okay with that, but honestly, it kind of bothered me. It made me feel like I had some sort of unknown standard to live up to. Within three months of dating, sex naturally came up as a topic of discussion. It made sense, of course; I was a girl, he was a boy, and we were in high school.
Still, I was really not ready to have sex.
We had been dating about six months when he started to complain about not having sex. I made it very clear to him I wasn’t ready. He’d tell me he understood, and that would end the conversation for the day. By the second or third time we’d argued about it, he told me he was tired of doing it for himself. He wanted his girlfriend, the woman he loved to make love to him.
It made me feel guilty.
When we had been dating about seven months, he sent me a text message saying that I was the best thing in his life and if I left him, he’d probably kill himself. I was in class when I got the text and had to ask to be excused so I could figure out what was going on.
That was the last time he mentioned it, but it stayed on my mind always.
By nine months, I would catch his hand traveling a little too far for my comfort and I’d stop him. One night, after the homecoming dance, he asked me to take off my dress, but swore he wasn’t trying to sleep with me.
Later, his family moved and he had to change schools. I promised him we’d find a way to see each other. I’d visit him at his new home every weekend. We would lay on the couch and he would hold me all day. Our relationship was more innocent than it had ever been.
For a while, we were just content to spend time together. For our first anniversary, he took me to a nice dinner and asked me to prom. We had a relationship based on honesty, and I told him he was the one I wanted to marry.
After that, he began to bring up sex in conversation again.
We would argue about it, and then not talk for days. But no matter how I fought or said no, I could feel my defenses slipping. He knew what to say to make me feel like maybe I was wrong:
“But you love me, and I love you, and I want to show you that.”
“It wouldn’t be a terrible thing, it would be you and me becoming one.”
“It’s meant for two people who love each other. You do love me right?”
We would argue and then he would stop speaking to me. He would start to say something about sex and then stop, making me feel like he felt he couldn’t talk to me about it. I thought I was losing him.
Finally, I compromised: we would do it on prom night. Not long after saying that, his hands began to wander again. When I’d stop him, we’d fight and he’d pull away from me.
I fought with myself on a daily basis, telling myself that if I didn’t do it, he’d leave me. I thought I couldn’t live without him. And so one day, I didn’t say no. He convinced me that I’d enjoy it, so I gave him my virginity.
That night, I cried myself to sleep. I wasn’t ready, and it sucked. He said he felt closer to me, and I said the same. But I never told him how I really felt. He started to ask more often, even demanding it once. I’d give some lame excuse, he’d see right through it, and I’d sleep with him. This happened for another six months.
Just before our second anniversary, he had gone a short while without asking for sex. I found out he had been sleeping with his ex-girlfriend. She confronted me at school one day, revealing it to me publicly.
I was mortified.
I left him eight months ago. I recognize that even though I loved him, I was not ready to lose my virginity at such a young age. For a long time, I blamed myself for it, saying I’m the one who should have said no, I should have stayed strong. But then again, I was afraid he would leave me.
Now I know I am not at fault. I learned that what he did is called sexual coercion. I was nothing more than another conquest. I have trouble getting close to men, and not trusting many people. I am clinically depressed and in college, still in love with a guy I wrongfully had sex with. I am seeking help. In sharing my story, I have found myself again.
by Band Back Together | Dec 2, 2013 | Child Abuse, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Help With Relationships, Helping Someone In An Abusive Relationship, Marriage Problems, Romantic Relationships |
Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not chase you down, tear down a locked door, and choke you.
Today marks the anniversary date of my husband and I dating, seven years ago. And yet 5 years ago, September 11, 2008 he choked me while I lay in bed. I don’t have the energy to go through the whole story. I simply need a place to type and let go.
We are still married. We have two children together. You may wonder why I would stay with a man who tried to take my life but you see 25 years prior to this incident I was attacked. I told three adults right after it happened and yet no one did a damn thing about it. So, I’m not surprised that I would stay in an abusive relationship. You see as a child I was taught it was okay to hurt me. That I should do nothing about it and simply go on with life. And so I did and have done ever since.
Until now.
I began therapy last Tuesday and I have spent the week crying and digging up old wounds, uncovering them and this time dealing with them.
My husband isn’t too happy about this. Yesterday he wanted to be supportive. However, when I ask him not to touch me or hug on me he becomes defensive and explains that he feels rejected.
Well too fucking bad.
I refuse to chose between my mental health and his comfort zone. He wants to stay in this house while I work through this then he’ll have to deal with what comes with it. I’ve asked him to leave but he, nicely, explains again that he wants to stay and work through this with me. Fine. Live here. But I’m working through this my way, the way that works for me and that happens to be with my own space and in my own time.
Thank you for letting me share this here and thank you for not judging me. I would never encourage a friend or family member to stay in an abusive relationship and so I know I must move on, for me.
