Well, here is where I write about everything. Sounds pretty ominous, doesn't it? I know it does to me. I've been staring at this screen for a good hour or so, trying to think of a not-so-blunt way to write how things went on and I decided that blunt and to the point is probably the most effective way to talk about it.
The first time that I was raped was when I was two? Three? I'm not sure, but I know it was around that time because I still had my teddy bear. My father and his friends were around, as usual and my Mom was at my Grandmother's helping her out since she had just had surgery due to an infection caused by her severe diabtes. Of course, I didn't know that then, I just thought that it was funny that Grandma had a plastic leg.
I remember a lot very clearly. My father's friends had been drunk that day, and my Mom away. My father's friends are the ones who did it. I still can't believe that they got a kick out of raping a toddler. I can't understand why anyone would rape anybody, but a baby?
I emerged from the whole incident with pelvic and vaginal bruises. I remember how difficult it was to walk, though I didn't complain because my father had a strong objection to complaining- and I learned that fast. My Mom didn't come home for a week, so she didn't know. The incidents occured whenever my mother was out of town- which was quite often because she worked for a software company and traveled, training people how to use their new systems. All in all, I can't say how many times it happened, but it stopped when my Mom separated from him because of his drinking problems shortly after my ninth birthday.
I have not seen my father or his friends since then, other than in my dreams. I've suffered from insomnia, manic depressiveness and a number of other psychosomatic illnesses due to my experiences. When I was seven, I had six ulcers in my stomach (three of which bled) and two in my intestines and at one point, the canker sores in my mouth were so severe that I even had them on my toungue. I was often sick with the flu and colds. I never considered suicide, but the thought of death was welcomed. When school started, I dreaded going because the other kids teased me for having freckles. Normally, I don't think this would have bothered me much, but the added stress was too much. My health deteriorated further. During a period of 7 weeks when I was ten, I was so weak that I could not walk. I couldn't take myself to the bathroom or bathe myself. I repeatedly went to doctors and psychologists...but none could give a correct prognosis. They knew depression had something to do with it, but they didn't know what was bothering me and I wouldn't tell them. I hadn't known then that what had happened to me was wrong. I had the impression that I was the one who had done wrong, and not them.
I hadn't realized that til very recently, when I moved to the town that I now live in.
We moved to avoid my father.
When I moved to this town, I had no friends, and the only family that I had was my Mom, my younger sister and my Mom's long time boyfriend. It seemed a normal way of living and I had gotten over a lot of problems that I had to deal with. I repressed a lot of the memories (I still don't remember a lot of them) and for a long while, I became a normal pre-teen. I made friends, did things with my family and had fun. No one knew about any of my health problems (except for some of the information on my emergency card in the school office) or that the guy that lived with us wasn't my real Dad. No one knew that I wasn't technically a virgin or that I had nightmares. I began to immerse myself in books. I read Stephen King and various novels that my mother didn't really approve of. I read so much that I wouldn't even leave my room for days upon days during the summer. It got to the point that my mother would ground me for bad grades by making me stop reading. She'd talk and I'd have my nose in a book, drowning my fear and memories in the pages of horror that made my life seem so...non-horrific (for the lack of a better word). The things that went bump in the night were stuffed puppies compared to what lurk in his stories. My Mother strongly disaproved of my reading such material. She said that they'd make me grow up too fast. What a joke.
Now, I'm nearly seventeen. I'm enrolled in the sophomore class at my local highschool and I struggle with school work. I often feel helpless when it comes to doing things alone. I hate walking across campus alone because I feel vulnerable and walking through town alone is even worse.
My current health problems aren't as bad as they used to be. I've got chronic kidney and bladder infections, but those have been present since birth and nothing really new. My only real problem is my period. Scarring in my cervix has caused abnormal menstral cycles and my cramps are so intolerable that sometimes it's difficult to walk. The pain radiates throughout my back, my abdomen, vaginal cavity and my legs. Unfortunately, the local school system doesn't include cramps as a medical crisis. In a recent check up, my doctor stated that endometriosis is a possibility, but I refuse to let them examine me. So for now, I take Naproxin- a muscle relaxer that is supposed to ease cramps. It is a possibility that I will be put on birth control sometime in the future, to regulate my period so that the pain is not so intense. I still don't know if I am able to have children.
Despite all of this, I am very lucky. I know that I could be like other rape victims; I could be full of despair and void of hope. I could have no faith. I won't speak about my faith in God, because I know that not all possess the beliefs that I do, but I will say that prayers and faith have gotten me through this. I cannot give credit to God without thanking him for giving me my friends to make me laugh and smile and stop thinking about things for a little while so I could just be a kid.
INSPIRATION AND CREDIT...this page is full of people that have influenced me towards the better in my lifetime. Some of them have homepages, and none of them have anything to do with mine, but they're friends and what else can I do? They're wonderful people. They're the reason I cared to live.
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