"HEY I don't know about you, but I'm feelin' 22..." I love that Taylor Swift song. Describes life perfectly and reminds me of all of the fun memories I've been making with my friends this year! So yesterday I was really sad and mopey and upset. And it was AWESOME.
Yeah, you read that right!
I said......... awesome.
So what happened was I met this guy a while back and ended up really liking him. We started talking more and more over the past few months and I just really really liked him. Well yesterday I found out that he's been making some life choices that don't sit well with me. I was so upset. I told my friends my life was over. I slept on the couch for most of the day, ate a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, cried a little, and watched The Lucky One.
At this point most of you are thinking "what is WRONG with her!? That doesn't sound very awesome at all!" Here's the thing. For the first time in a year and a half I was upset about things normal 22 year old girls get upset about.
For the first time I wasn't sad because I had been questioned, used, stalked, physically hurt, and mentally tormented. Nope. I was sad because some guy I thought was cute ended up not being as great as I thought, and preferred bouncing around to different girls instead of hanging out with me. It's funny thinking about how happy I was about this. My bad mood was not the result of thinking about my rape or dealing with an issue that had to do with my rape. My bad mood was the direct result of young adult drama, and I'm actually really grateful for it.
I'm grateful that I was reminded that I can be a normal person. I can have normal emotions. I can want normal things, and get upset when those things don't work out. I allowed myself to to react to something that was kind of stupid. I let myself be that stereotypical girl who drowns her boy problems in ice cream and chick flicks, and you know what? I really deserved a day like that.
It's nice to be reminded once in a while that you're allowed to get upset about things that aren't life or death. I'm allowed to focus on me sometimes. I don't always have to worry about everyone else, and I don't always need to have a serious reason to want to cry. I'm allowed to cry over stupid things. I'm allowed to dramatically yell that my life is over. I'm allowed to be normal.
So I guess I am a little upset still about everything that happened yesterday. But, I'm so happy that it's something kind of dumb that I'll get over by Wednesday and not something terrible.
Glad I can appreciate all of the ridiculous feelings my 22 year old self has :)
Monday, January 28, 2013
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Confessions of a Rape Victim
I was on Tumblr the other day and stumbled upon a blog that posted the confessions of different rape victims. Each was numbered differently and didn't have names or details...they were all just things that these people were feeling, thinking or experiencing. I realized that I go through all of these things too and that posting some of the things I go through and feel might be somewhat therapeutic. Some of these things are going to make some people not happy (because they are things that make me miserable) and some of them will probably not shock you at all. Some of this stuff is hard to verbalize, because I am so not confrontational at all and I KNOW that if I said anything at all about certain things it would just cause a huge argument. So here goes....
1. Sometimes I replay my rape in my mind for up to 2 hours, trying to figure out what I could have done differently and how I could have made him stop. I literally spend hours torturing myself because I've taken the majority of the blame whether I have wanted to or not. When you constantly have people telling you you're wrong, it's difficult to listen to those who tell you you've done things right.
2. Every once in a while I'll have the type of day where I just want to call my parents sobbing. The desire to call them usually happens after I've dissolved into hysterics, and I know it will scare them. So I always try to calm myself down first to a point, but by the time I've done that I'm too exhausted to even pick up the phone so I never call.
3. Ever since I told my parents about what happened to me I haven't been as comfortable talking to my dad. He knows way more about me then I ever wanted him to. I know that what was done to me makes him angry, but I've never figured out how to just tell him that I'm OK and that I'm going to be OK. None of that is his fault, it's mine because I'm such a baby about it. It's just kind of an awkward conversation to have with your dad.
4. For the longest time I found it so hard to talk to my mom. I knew what I was going through was hurting almost as much as it was hurting me. I found myself getting angry with her because I didn't understand why she was taking it so hard when I was the one being hurt. Some days I didn't want to answer her text messages and phone calls. I was afraid I would explode and upset her or hurt her some more. It's better now...sometimes I find myself getting upset with her when we talk about it and I'm not wanting to hear what she's saying. But I know that she chooses her words carefully and that they are things I NEED to hear.
5. Even though I act big and tough when people say hurtful things to me, it does what it's meant to do. It hurts. It hurts more than you can even know.
6. I haven't been able to go on a date and actually enjoy myself since I was attacked. I'm always on edge. If I catch myself starting to have a good time I sometimes think "no this is not allowed. this guy won't like you anyway. you are too ugly, emotionally unstable, crazy and damaged." I always hate myself for thinking that about me afterwards, because deep down I know it's not true. I'm just scared.
7. I want to talk about what happened to me. Not necessarily all of the time, but I DO want to talk about it. Every time I start to bring it up, whoever I am talking to starts looking really uncomfortable, gets quiet, and can't look me in the eye. I've started talking to myself (literally having conversations with myself) while I'm at home so I can get it off of my chest. It makes me feel crazy, and lonely, and is not as effective as talking to someone else.
8. I miss the encouragement I used to get when I was first raped. It's like once you hit a certain point, all of those daily and weekly reminders that you have people behind you go away. I don't think anyone realizes how much of a struggle it still is.
9. I know I put things on my blog that sometimes poke fun at my situation. But that doesn't mean I like to hear your rape jokes that make fun of victims and the emotions they go through.
10. Telling me that what I am feeling is wrong will not make me like you very much.
11. Sometimes I just want a hug....without having to ask for one.
12. The nightmares I have scare the life out of me. They don't happen often anymore but when they do, they wake me up and keep me awake frozen to my bed and terrified for my life.
13. The song The Great Escape by P!nk makes me emotional and is my new favorite.
I was thinking today and decided that I need to do something more with the hand I've been dealt. I think that some day I would love to start a non profit that gives the victims of date rape the tools, resources, and finances to deal with their struggle. The one thing I had a hard time with was finding support groups and places I could go that catered to date rape victims. In our society this term is still not taken seriously and I would love to be a part of an organization that took it seriously. Maybe someday I'll figure out how to start something like that. That's my new dream.
1. Sometimes I replay my rape in my mind for up to 2 hours, trying to figure out what I could have done differently and how I could have made him stop. I literally spend hours torturing myself because I've taken the majority of the blame whether I have wanted to or not. When you constantly have people telling you you're wrong, it's difficult to listen to those who tell you you've done things right.
2. Every once in a while I'll have the type of day where I just want to call my parents sobbing. The desire to call them usually happens after I've dissolved into hysterics, and I know it will scare them. So I always try to calm myself down first to a point, but by the time I've done that I'm too exhausted to even pick up the phone so I never call.
3. Ever since I told my parents about what happened to me I haven't been as comfortable talking to my dad. He knows way more about me then I ever wanted him to. I know that what was done to me makes him angry, but I've never figured out how to just tell him that I'm OK and that I'm going to be OK. None of that is his fault, it's mine because I'm such a baby about it. It's just kind of an awkward conversation to have with your dad.
4. For the longest time I found it so hard to talk to my mom. I knew what I was going through was hurting almost as much as it was hurting me. I found myself getting angry with her because I didn't understand why she was taking it so hard when I was the one being hurt. Some days I didn't want to answer her text messages and phone calls. I was afraid I would explode and upset her or hurt her some more. It's better now...sometimes I find myself getting upset with her when we talk about it and I'm not wanting to hear what she's saying. But I know that she chooses her words carefully and that they are things I NEED to hear.
5. Even though I act big and tough when people say hurtful things to me, it does what it's meant to do. It hurts. It hurts more than you can even know.
6. I haven't been able to go on a date and actually enjoy myself since I was attacked. I'm always on edge. If I catch myself starting to have a good time I sometimes think "no this is not allowed. this guy won't like you anyway. you are too ugly, emotionally unstable, crazy and damaged." I always hate myself for thinking that about me afterwards, because deep down I know it's not true. I'm just scared.
7. I want to talk about what happened to me. Not necessarily all of the time, but I DO want to talk about it. Every time I start to bring it up, whoever I am talking to starts looking really uncomfortable, gets quiet, and can't look me in the eye. I've started talking to myself (literally having conversations with myself) while I'm at home so I can get it off of my chest. It makes me feel crazy, and lonely, and is not as effective as talking to someone else.
8. I miss the encouragement I used to get when I was first raped. It's like once you hit a certain point, all of those daily and weekly reminders that you have people behind you go away. I don't think anyone realizes how much of a struggle it still is.
9. I know I put things on my blog that sometimes poke fun at my situation. But that doesn't mean I like to hear your rape jokes that make fun of victims and the emotions they go through.
10. Telling me that what I am feeling is wrong will not make me like you very much.
11. Sometimes I just want a hug....without having to ask for one.
12. The nightmares I have scare the life out of me. They don't happen often anymore but when they do, they wake me up and keep me awake frozen to my bed and terrified for my life.
13. The song The Great Escape by P!nk makes me emotional and is my new favorite.
I was thinking today and decided that I need to do something more with the hand I've been dealt. I think that some day I would love to start a non profit that gives the victims of date rape the tools, resources, and finances to deal with their struggle. The one thing I had a hard time with was finding support groups and places I could go that catered to date rape victims. In our society this term is still not taken seriously and I would love to be a part of an organization that took it seriously. Maybe someday I'll figure out how to start something like that. That's my new dream.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Anchor
So over Christmas Break I got a tattoo! I got it the Saturday before Christmas, and I am so obsessed with it. It turned out so well! It's on my right wrist and it's a small anchor. I've had several people ask why an anchor and so I've decided to take to the blog and explain :) I've already explained it to a few people (and if you can believe it one of them actually made fun of me for it. I'm not that close with that person anyway so whatever!)
I have always felt like anchors represent strength. I kind of compare myself to an anchor. Say a storm hits. The water gets really choppy, waves overtake everything, people scramble to protect themselves. All the while there's this anchor down in the water. It may sway here and there a bit depending on how rough things get, but it never fully removes itself from the sand. Though it may waiver on occasion, it stays put and stays strong against everything that comes at it.
I am that anchor.
I have always been set in my ways, had the same morals and values if not for my whole life then for quite some time. After I was raped my life got choppy and many different "waves" tried to move me from what I've always believed. People tried to protect themselves....they claimed it didn't happen, claimed they weren't involved, placed all blame on me in order to cover themselves.
Depression, anxiety and thoughts of suicide all threatened to disrupt my life, but in the end I stood strong and conquered each one (with the help of many doctors, counselors, and friends). People harassed me, tormented me....called me names, screamed at me on campus as I walked to class. They told me I was a slut, told me I was asking for it, told me that rape was something I'd obviously had coming to me. Told me it was God's way of punishing me (for what I guess I'll never know). People tried to tell me that my character was different than what I had always believed. Suddenly, according to them, I was no longer someone who loved others and often had to remind herself to take care of herself once in a while instead of constantly taking care of others. Nope. Now I was someone who was selfish. I was someone who destroyed lives, who crushed the dreams and ambitions of a man who brutally attacked me and raped me. Not that that last part was ever mentioned by those people....it always seemed to be a tiny insignificant detail that got left out.
I was stalked. I was followed around on campus. My car was keyed. My tires were slashed. It seemed like every time my life was starting to come together another wave came to knock me around.
I was admitted into a psychiatric hospital because of a counselor who often jumped to conclusions before she heard the entire story. That would have been enough to break anybody. But not me. It was just another hiccup in what is proving to be a very very long road to recovery.
Through all of those horrible events I remained set in my ways. Did I constantly question my values and ideas? Absolutely. But just because I questioned them does not mean I changed.
Instead, despite all of the trials, I stood strong in my own storm.
I am an anchor.
The anchor on my wrist may just be a tattoo.
To me, though, it is a constant reminder of who I am, where I came from, what I've been through.
Most importantly, though, it is a reminder that I am strong. And I am a survivor.
I have always felt like anchors represent strength. I kind of compare myself to an anchor. Say a storm hits. The water gets really choppy, waves overtake everything, people scramble to protect themselves. All the while there's this anchor down in the water. It may sway here and there a bit depending on how rough things get, but it never fully removes itself from the sand. Though it may waiver on occasion, it stays put and stays strong against everything that comes at it.
I am that anchor.
I have always been set in my ways, had the same morals and values if not for my whole life then for quite some time. After I was raped my life got choppy and many different "waves" tried to move me from what I've always believed. People tried to protect themselves....they claimed it didn't happen, claimed they weren't involved, placed all blame on me in order to cover themselves.
Depression, anxiety and thoughts of suicide all threatened to disrupt my life, but in the end I stood strong and conquered each one (with the help of many doctors, counselors, and friends). People harassed me, tormented me....called me names, screamed at me on campus as I walked to class. They told me I was a slut, told me I was asking for it, told me that rape was something I'd obviously had coming to me. Told me it was God's way of punishing me (for what I guess I'll never know). People tried to tell me that my character was different than what I had always believed. Suddenly, according to them, I was no longer someone who loved others and often had to remind herself to take care of herself once in a while instead of constantly taking care of others. Nope. Now I was someone who was selfish. I was someone who destroyed lives, who crushed the dreams and ambitions of a man who brutally attacked me and raped me. Not that that last part was ever mentioned by those people....it always seemed to be a tiny insignificant detail that got left out.
I was stalked. I was followed around on campus. My car was keyed. My tires were slashed. It seemed like every time my life was starting to come together another wave came to knock me around.
I was admitted into a psychiatric hospital because of a counselor who often jumped to conclusions before she heard the entire story. That would have been enough to break anybody. But not me. It was just another hiccup in what is proving to be a very very long road to recovery.
Through all of those horrible events I remained set in my ways. Did I constantly question my values and ideas? Absolutely. But just because I questioned them does not mean I changed.
Instead, despite all of the trials, I stood strong in my own storm.
I am an anchor.
The anchor on my wrist may just be a tattoo.
To me, though, it is a constant reminder of who I am, where I came from, what I've been through.
Most importantly, though, it is a reminder that I am strong. And I am a survivor.
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