Personal Demons

*TRIGGER WARNING* This post will contain MILD information about rape. 

I am sharing this, along with future posts, in attempt to reach out to other rape victims. It is always important to speak up about the issue, but right now rape cases around the World are shaking the Earth we walk on. It is such an important time to swallow your fear and give yourself a voice. I understand many men and women do not have the choice to or simply are not ready. DO NOT BE ASHAMED. I raise my voice for those of us who cannot or will not. I raise my voice to fill the silence in between. I raise my voice to remind you that not only are you not alone, but someone much closer than you know, may be right there with you. I am sharing this story with a heart full of love!

I'd like to say that my rape and molestation are just a whisper of a memory. I'd like to say I have let go of the pain, the shame, and the anger that go along with it. I'd like to tell you that I was only made better as a result. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you those things. I cannot speak about this part of my past without feeling a wave of emotions wash over me. This post will not be focused on the details of my rape, but I do plan on sharing about it later. As this event in my life has affected me many times and in many ways, you may read about it more than a few times. 

As far back as I can remember, I have lived with the grief of having been raped and molested. At first I hid it from the World. (My mother has helped me identify that I was 5 years old at the time of the attacks and that they may have spanned a total of 4 months or less.) It wasn't until I was 12 that I was able to really dig down and uncover some of the details. Through therapy I was reminded of so many things I had managed to block out during the years as a way to handle the pain. 

As soon as I connected the dots, I realized that the abuse occurred before I moved in with my father. I didn't know who my attacker was, but I knew his name was either William or Steven and that my mother was romantically involved with his brother. (With the help of my mother, we have identified his name was William and he was the 15 year old son of my mother's boyfriend at the time.) 

For years I hid my history from my mother, out of the desire to protect her. My mother is an incredible woman who has weathered a lot of abuse over the years. She also happens to suffer from mental illnesses. This is not a weakness, but being a naive teenager, I thought it meant my mother was made of glass. I thought that if I told her that I had been raped under her watch, that she would fall to pieces. I thought she would blame herself for any pain that may have come along with the attack and that I would successfully destroy this incredible woman. I told my friends, my therapists, and even strangers who occasionally asked me, for lack of better words, what the hell was wrong with me. I had let it tear me down, and everyone could see. 

I spent some time turning this pain into determination. I tried to glean all of the things from it that could make me stronger, wiser, and generally ready to face the World without fear that I could be torn down. I tacked on my "victim" badge and wore it with all the bravery I could find. But still, I could not tell my mother. I followed the Steubenville case with rage in my heart and flames on my tongue, but I held it. I read of a sailor in the Middle East being attacked on a bus. I read that she knocked the attacker down, and held a knife to his throat, and I was so proud I wanted to shout from the rooftops. Still, I was afraid to speak to my mother. I read this week that a Norwegian woman in Dubai is being jailed for sex outside of marriage, even though she is a rape victim. I have been getting more ashamed, more angry, and more disappointed in this disgusting way the World handles rape and I have stayed too quiet because of my own damn fear to speak to my mother! 

Today my mother stood up and admitted her own history of rape. When she was younger, on three different occasions, men had taken advantage of her being intoxicated. She had fought and told them "No" and still they thought it was okay to rape her. Her friends laughed at her! The cops told her that because she was drunk, she was willing!! None of her attackers were brought to justice. So now, finally, something had upset me so much that the silence was gone. I had finally been faced with a rape story so appalling that my tongue ached inside my mouth. I had felt an anger so wretched it burned my soul and I finally opened up to my mother. 

The brave, beautiful woman that I know as my mother took this news as gracefully as anyone could. Only with her help was I able to connect the dots that had been lost to me. Only with her help was I able to remove these questions looming over my head. My mother displayed so much courage today that I was in tears. She willingly took on whatever emotions came with my admission. She forgave me for my silence, and even commended me for my strength. 

So now, with my mother holding my hand, I can go into the future with no fear. I can now speak about my rape and advocate against it without holding back even an ounce! In these trying times, I can open my mouth without hesitation. I speak on the behalf of victims like me whose cases went cold and who will never know the taste of justice. I speak also for victims like my mother who were dismissed because they were intoxicated. The victims who were harrassed by the law and laughed at by their "friends". I am blessed to have supportive friends and family around me who have never once questioned my account. If you are reading this, and you feel nothing but shame and fear in regards to your abuse, please contact me in any form you see fit. I would love to help anyone that might need my help. 

Please go and hug your mothers. Please thank them for taking on all of your pain as you grow. Please honor them for all of their secret pains and struggles. Today I am so grateful for my mother and so fucking proud.