June Flower's Story

We were in my kitchen of my new home in the suburbs not far from where I grew up. My father and his new wife were visiting. My daughter was nine months old. His wife was holding her up in her arms. My father leaned in and stuck his tongue in the baby’s ear. She giggled. He said,”Oh she likes that!” 

Waves of nausea hit me from nowhere. Flashes of something I couldn’t see yet were hitting my brain. I knew it was wrong. It was my father. It was bad. I kicked him out. I grabbed the baby and kicked them out. 

The flashback hit me so hard, I thought I would die. The night before it happened, my Father had discovered my boyfriend and I in my room at night. But he didn’t come in or say anything.The next night he got his revenge. I was reading. He pulled me out of bed. Threw me against my dresser. He tore off my clothes. He sodomized me very violently. I was on the ceiling watching. But I could feel it when I remembered. It felt like a cattleprod. When it was over I fell to the ground, he called me a whore and had me lick his penis before he left. That night I went to my therapist. He said I had severe PTSD and sent me to the hospital. My pulse was 150 bpm. My blood pressure was through the roof. I stayed there for a month. 

By the end, the nurses convinced me to confront my Father. I did. Before he could prepare a response, he said,”Oh yeah.” Then he tried to deny it. We haven’t spoke since. That was 12 years ago. 
My memory had blankness from birth to age 19 for most of my childhood. I am just now remembering more of what happened. The above story is only the beginning and what started my recovery. 


I am now 39 years old and finally truly facing what happened to me. I pushed away that initial memory for years until I couldn't function anymore. I suffer from complex PTSD and Dissociative Identity Disorder. I startle easily at any noise. I'm scared to go out especially at night. I don't trust anyone and have difficulty making friends. I have nightmares sometimes for weeks and then sometimes I have flashbacks during the day. They feel real and like I am back in the trauma. Its as if it all just happened. It is difficult to live this way. Recently I was diagnosed with DID and have since found that I have eleven alters so far. Sometimes when I switch I don't remember, sometimes, I am co-present with them. My therapist says that with a lot of hard work, I can get better. But it will take a long time and will be painful. We feel its not fair.

Rachel's Story

He was not a stranger in an alley or some man I had just met so the thought of what he did actually being rape did not come into my mind until I started to really fight back. We had been together for three years we have a daughter who was just under two at the time, he had a good job and brought in very good money. I stayed at home with our daughter, went shopping all day, and kept the house spotless. Looking from the outside, you would not see the truth within. If anything he made me looks spoilt and would tell all others how hard his life was with me. However, all my family (whom we lived closest to) could see the cracks. My mum could not put her finger on it but she just did not want my daughter or me near him. She was seeing all the control that I could not. He was smart though, he would not hit he would use words and coerce me to his ideals and ways of thinking. He tried and very nearly succeeded to convince me I was a danger to be alone with my daughter, which triggered postnatal depression. He would cheat with others and make me feel worthless. I was forever put on a diet. I was made to wear slutty lingerie on command. Along with that, the 'sex' was on command too. Whether I consented or not was of no consequence, it was expected so it had to be done, daily. I would just lie on the bed dressed in whatever he wanted at the time and await instruction as to what he wanted. Then I started to speak up and at times, flat out refuse before the rapes started he would just storm off like a baby, complaining and making my life hard at every turn always bringing the reason for his behavior back to the lack of sex in our lives. One night he had been drinking and smoking drugs. He tried to restrain me in the living room on the sofa with his hands and force and weight of his body but I fought him off. I made my way to the bedroom upset, scared and confused he had never been this forceful before and I did not know what he was going to do next. My daughter was asleep in the same bedroom so I was scared for her too. Before I could think, he grabbed me from behind and forced me against the wall. He tried to fondle me and kiss me, I refused and tried to push him off but somehow between the space of the living room to the bedroom he had developed a strength I did not know anyone could possess. He threw me by my hair onto bed and ripped the bottom half of my clothes off me. He kept me pinned down by my neck with his forearm pushing me further into the mattress. Tears were streaming down my face but my sobs and pleas stifled, as I did not want to wake my daughter and have her witness it. I cannot remember the duration of the rape but all I have now are the flashbacks of the violence and the way my body was abused as if I was not really in it. That was not the last time he raped me, the last time was in front of my daughter. That is when I saw it for what it was, not what he made it out to be, which, in his words, was all my fault.

Sophie's Story

I met a guy in Navy ROTC at a college party when I was 19. He was handsome, charming, and so respectful. Having met at a party, I expected he was looking for a drunk hookup and I told him right off I wouldn't do that. He never pressured me or anything. He bought me dinner a few times, invited me over for the superbowl, we'd watch movies, go to parties, hang out. Occasionally he would start to get physical, but every time I said I wasn't ready he would stop immediately and just hold me and sing to me and tell funny stories. Eventually I let him get more and more intimate. We started sleeping together, consensually. But after a few months of him refusing to be exclusive, I had enough. I wanted a relationship, not a hook up. We got pretty distant.

 

One night he's at a party that gets busted. The cops were letting underage people go if they had someone sober to take them home. Knowing I lived close and I hardly drink, he called me and I took him home. Once I got him in the door he started getting physical, and the more I resisted, the meaner he got. He called me a tease and a slut and said no one would care what happened to me. He got really violent, every time I would make a noise or resist he'd hit me harder. He raped me. It was my 20th birthday.

 

A few days later I went to my pastor and told him everything. I asked for help, or advice. He changed the subject. So I didn't tell anyone else for a long time. I knew what happened to me was wrong, but I didn't think anyone else would see it that way. After all, I had a sexual history with this guy, he'd always been so kind, my pastor ignored my cry for help... it all added up to me burying the truth for years.

 

But I couldn't bury the rage and guilt and self hate. All my relationships - boyfriends, best friends, parents - suffered. I was reckless and suicidal, and so so angry. Eventually I was hospitalized for my behavior, and finally told my family.

 

There's so much more to my story that I can never seem to tell expect in bits and pieces. He threw money at me when he was done. He stalked me and would send texts like "Love your hair today". A good friend from high school was in his unit, and knew who had raped me without me ever giving a name. I have never, since that night, said his name. I moved and left my school and friends to get away from him. I constantly feel like "I'm doing this wrong", but is there a "right" way to recover from something like this?

-Sophie

Amelia's Story

At the age of 2 I was taken away from my biological mother and put in a foster home.  There were 10 foster children including me.  There I was sexually, physically and emotionally abused by this foster family.  Although my memories are fuzzy or non- existent, I remember my foster father touching me at the age of 4.  This man also sexually abused his own biological daughter I was told years later.  The foster parents had children of their own, 5, to be exact.  They in turn, especially the sons, whom I called uncles, sexually, physically and emotionally abused their own children.  4 of the children turned out to be alcoholics.  This household was very dysfunctional as well as extremely abusive.  When I was 16 and both foster parents had passed away I was put in their daughter, Fran's, house.  Fran was sexually abused by not only her father (the foster father) but also by her brother.  The sexual abuse in this family was rampant.

I was also raped at the age of 9 or later by the drunken man across the street.  He would give me quarters and touch me.  To this day I still do not see the rape but have had flashbacks of a rape happening to me.

I always wondered why I hated the very person I was.  It was not until I was 40 that I started this journey to healing. My life after I was married was having one affair after another with different men.  I was involved in swinging as well.  When I look back at that behavior I understand why I did what I did.  These men set me up to believe that sex equaled love.  I was desperate for attention, and these men paid attention to me and used me, knowing how needy I was.

 I have stopped acting out with other men.  I refused to hurt the wounded child inside of me any longer.  With each encounter with other men, the shame would soon follow. I have been in therapy since 1987 and have learned so much about why I was the person I was.  I am a more balanced person having been in therapy.  I have dealt with a lot of painful emotions, grief and sadness. Had I not talked, felt those emotions, I would not have healed.  I know today I was never, ever at fault for what these people did to me.  I was an innocent child looking for someone, anyone to love me.  Today, I love the person I am even with all my faults and frailties.  I have learned to stand up to people who are cruel or mean spirited.  I stand up for myself because I believe in who I am and that I do not deserve anything less than respect.

Amelia 2012

A Bit of Encouragement

I know that it can be really rough dealing with the affects of sexual violence, and rough telling and reading the stories. Here is a bit of encouragement for all of you.

http://thefireflygarden.tumblr.com/

(Petition) Secretary of Defense: Create a Central National Registry for Military Sex Offenders

I joined the military because I wanted to serve my country.  I served as a Lance Corporal in the Marines for over three years.  In that time I was raped twice and sexually assaulted another two times. 

The first time it happened I was serving abroad in Afghanistan.  After that first incident I was assaulted three other times over the course of three years.  It came to happen so often that I assumed it was normal and that it must happen to everyone.  I never received any training on how to deal with sexual assault in the military- I didnt even know how to report it.  

When I finally decided to report the sexual assaults I was led through a maze of questions and excuses and I was even discouraged from reporting the crimes.  In the end, instead of getting justice I was ostracized and humiliated.  

I learned that there is currently no national military sex offender registry and that offenders are not required to disclose their crimes on their discharge papers.  A sex offender registration for convicted for military personnel would help to address the impunity that surrounds rape within the military.  Most veterans are honorable men and women who have served our country, but there are some who have committed serious crimes like rape and sexual assault during their service and the military has a responsibility to disclose that information for the sake of the public good. 

When asked why sex offenders do not have to disclose on their discharge papers, some of the responses I was given were 1) It will take too long to create a national database or 2) the military is going green and it takes too much paper to add an extra check box to discharge papers. 

This is part of a larger issue of rape within the military.  Some estimates reveal that more than 1/3 of women in the armed services are raped during their service.  If you serve in the US military and you rape or sexually assault a fellow service member you have an 86.5% chance of keeping the crime a secret and a 92% chance of avoiding court martial.  

Join me in asking the Department of Defense to create a national database for sex offenders.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV0F8Zr6N8A&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Sign this petition at http://www.change.org/petitions/secretary-of-defense-create-a-central-national-registry-for-military-sex-offenders

TyCo's Story

I will always find it difficult not to blame the fact that i was born with no a**hole which resulted in the abuse that i endured for all those years.

At the the age of 2 the sexual abuse started at the hands of a male and female day care manager.  I loved going to this day care venue but unfortunately my mother had to return to work and therefore a bus started collecting me from home early in the morning.  As a special treat several of us were allowed to stay up rather than go for an afternoon sleep.  Unfortunately it was during this time that the sexual abuse occured.

At the age of 4 a female neighbour who was about 12 at the time allowed us to go into her backyard to see the pet chickens.  Wow this was a special treat but the price was to let her see what the drs had done to save our life.  So ecause i was use to removing my clothing for adults to show my bottom I naturally removed my clothes for her as well.  regrettably tis led to far more than just showing her what the drs had done over the next 4 years including me having sex with her and her testing to see if the doctors had done their job properly and created an anus that could endure all kinds of things being forced into it.

At the age of 5, for 12 months, I was sodomised by my older step brother which to this stage is probably the event I have dealt with the least out of all the experiences Ive had.

At the age of 8 as I was experiencing yet another event with the female neighbour her father caught us and brought us inside the house.  The was to be the start of 3 years of sexual abuse within a pedophile ring of 7 adults. Most of the time this occured with 5 people at a time with 3 people having their way with me at once.  I was also forced to recruit other children into the ring. 

As a result of being incontinent i occured severe bullying at school from the time I entered elementary school until the time i ended high school.

As a result i have developed several mental illnesses with the main ones being DID (multiple personality disorder), boarderline personality disorder and schizoid personality disorder.

I have resorted to several unhealthy coping strategies including self harminng, gambling addiction, addiction to pornography, bulimia, binge eating, inappropriate use of over the counter medication.

I have OD several times and ended up on life support.  I have spent long periods of time in a mental hospital.

The biggest thing i have learnt is that we never asked to be on this journey but with time and patience we can get through this to the other side and that we are all worthy fighting for the opportunity to be the person God created us to be.

K's Story

I was raped 28/29 April ’11 the year after I graduated.  I went on a vacation with a bunch of friends. The first two night were great, we partied and had a great time together...

On the 28^th we started drinking early, because the rugby was on and we started playing drinking card games... About 7 o’clock everybody decided they wanted

To go out to a club and end the night there, but as I already had too much to drink so I said I’m going to stay the night in and get in bed early. I wasn’t drunk though, but I knew where my limits were....  So that is what the plan was.

Everyone was gone and I went to get ready to for bed. About an hour later I heard a noise at the window... Seen at it was flats we rented there were people all around and I didn’t

Think much of it.. I got up to look, but as I got to the bedroom door something hit me over the head... I blanked out. When I woke up they had already taken their clothes off, as well as mine, they held me down on the floor and said those word “You are with us now baby”... I didn’t know what to think, I thought I knew what was going to happen and then I didn’t.

My mind was already a mess... But then, one of them put their hands on me, rubbed me everywhere he could. As he was getting out his knife and getting rough, the other one started

To sodomize me with his hands, with an empty bottle and different objects (I kind of hit a blank at that time so don’t know exactly what else or what they had done for a time)....

When I woke up again it was of more pain I felt, but wasn’t like the pain of earlier... The one had started carving words into me with his knife (don’t know what as it’s in a different

Language)... it hurt so bad, and I though that maybe they were done and on their way, but then he said “we are only getting started now baby, don’t you like the excitement?’”

I am still a virgin is what went through my mind,  but it wasn’t to be long anymore... I felt ashamed, dirty, my whole world crashed there... They then started raping me, at first

I was on my back as they made turns... One would rape me and the other put their genitals in my mouth, i felt like I could breathe.... And even when they turned me, one would do

It from behind as if i was like some dog or something and the other one in front of me pushing me onto him...  I must have blanked out again, because I couldn’t really remember anything

From there on... All i could remember after that was that at some stage we were in the bathroom, and they had taken the shower point off from the hose... they  had put the warm water

On in me or that is at least how it fealt like... After that is just a blank...

I woke up in hospital some time later that day... Police tried to get my statement then, but everything was so fuzzy... So when they came back two days later, and I could give them some

Of what I did remember for the statement. They told me that the cameras showed that they came in at about 10:12 and only left 4:36, and added that I’m lucky to have survived as they bind my feet to the top bed of the bunk beds for all my blood to flow to my brain...

I fell pregnant as a result of that. I couldn’t go for an abortion as I had this fear of being touched again... So for the entire pregnancy I only went for scans, and ended up giving birth

Prematurely to a baby girl. My entire family was against it, and the plan was to give her up for adoption, but could do that either... Sometimes it’s still tough with her being here, but

She is something beautiful out of something horrible that happened...

I still struggle everyday to cope and everyday is still a battle for me, I’ve tried committing suicide, but luckily it didn’t work... So from then on I decided that I’m going to try or at least

For the sake of my daughter....

I still feel dirty, ashamed, guilty, have no self worth, but every day is one step closer to the day I can cope, and love my daughter even more than I do know....

So that is what happened to me, i’m sorry for the graphic detail... But maybe somebody will know that they are not alone in what they are feeling....

Kind Regards,

K

My Story and My Mission

My story:

I was raped at midnight on December 5, 2011 at midnight by a man I met on an internet dating site known as OKCupid.com. This is the moment that changed my life forever. 

I was a freshman in college and had just gotten back from Thanksgiving break where family tensions had been running extraordinarily high. December 4, 2011, the first Sunday after break, had been merely a continuation of this tension.  I worked in a church nursery at the time, and there was a concert that night. It was perhaps, the worst night at work I had ever had. We had a 20'x30' room packed with about 30 children between the ages of 11 months and 11 years, and at one point all of them were screaming or making some sort of loud noise. My coworker was spreading gossip about one of us getting fired, (which I later found out to be a complete lie) and I knew that my boss had talked to me the day before because my burnout was starting to affect the kids, and this job, as little as it paid me, was my only source of income. To make it worse, I had a parent come in and get angry with me because we had too few adults, and I only aggravated her more by asking her to stay. The only thing that kept me going was that I was supposed to go to see my friend after work, but he cancelled.

I was frustrated beyond belief and exhausted as I went back to my dorm. I was grateful, however, that I managed to get a parking space on the 5th floor of the parking garage, one of the only two places residents were allowed to park, and the place that was closest to my dorm. The other lot we were allowed to park in was a mile away, and it was excruciatingly rare to get a spot in the parking garage, especially at the time of night I had arrived. It was a gift from God. I said a prayer of thanksgiving for the spot and walked to my dorm in the bitter cold, and windy night.

Once inside, I sat down at my computer and checked my profile on the dating site. There was a message from a guy. He was saying that I was "hot" and that he wanted to get to know me. I was absolutely ecstatic. No man had ever called me "hot" before, and I had been told many times in school that no one would ever want me, yet here was a man calling me "hot". He was online, so we chatted back and forth for a while, and he ended up giving me his phone number. I called him and we talked on the phone for about an hour. 

While on the phone, it came out that I was a virgin and had never been kissed. He latched onto this revelation like a tick in my neck. He then started trying to convince me to come to his house, saying that he did not want to have sex, just to kiss me and to hold me. He said he did not even really like sex all that much, or so he claimed. I resisted for quite some time, saying that it was cold and icy, and most importantly, that I did not want to give up my wonderful parking space. I was exhausted though, and remarkably lonely. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to be kissed and held, so I agreed to come over....on one condition: there would be absolutely no sex. Just "making out". (which I had believed was nothing more than kissing a lot.)

I got in my car at about 10:45 and began driving to the next town over where his house was. It was snowing and the roads were pure ice. I had my radio on the classic rock station, and I remember "Highway to Hell" by ACDC began to play when my car began to spin out. Luckily, there was no one on the road. I thought perhaps I ought to have turned around at that point, but the next point that I actually could was the exit I needed to take anyway, so I figured I would keep going. I had come all that way after all, and I still wanted to be held, especially since my adrenaline was now pumping. 

I drove up to his house, where he was waiting for me outside shirtless. I giggled at that, because he was so out of place. Here I was in my business suit with my hair and makeup done, donning the jacket I use for snowboarding, it was snowing, I had just spun out on ice...and here was this fool with a scraggly beard standing outside barefoot and shirtless, wearing no more than a pair of jeans and one of those tacky cowboy belt buckles. 

He took me inside the house and downstairs. He told me I best be quiet, because his mom was upstairs sleeping. Downstairs he had a futon that he used as a bed, and the fireplace was going. The air was thick with the smell of tobacco, a substance to which I am allergic. I became terrified as I surveyed the scene. I told him that I thought we weren't going to have sex. He assured me that we weren't, but then pushed me down onto the futon and got on top of me. I froze like a corpse as he started kissing me. It had already been feeling like a very strange dream, and at that point, I think I lost touch with reality. I did not really know what was going on, but I loosened some, and began kissing him back, and I found that I liked it. I liked being kissed. A man wanted me. He was holding me. He was kissing me. I knew it wasn't love since he was a stranger, but I enjoyed the illusion.

At one point, as he was kissing me, his phone rang he picked up the phone to look at the caller ID. I asked who it was, and he told me it was his mom. I guess he must have forgotten he told me she was upstairs, and I suppose I must have too, because I didn't think much of it. Soon after that though, he began to take off my clothes. At first I was confused, but I figured that is just what you did with the "making out". After all, the entire thing was nothing like I had pictured it, and I didn't think too much about nudity, since it was not unusual for my roommate and I to walk around shirtless in our dorm. At this point he started pushing me to sleep with him, relentlessly he pushed me. I resisted it for about an hour, when I became convinced that it didn't matter what I said, he would get what he wanted. Even then, he had started to get rougher than me, both in word and action, and he was an "ex-marine". I didn't really want this to happen, but more than anything else, I did NOT want to get pregnant. I had had a very poignant reminder of just how much I did not want to have children. It was after this realization that I made what was perhaps the only smart decision of the night, though it is the one I struggle most with. I uttered the words that I will always hate myself for, the words that will haunt me forever, the words that, I am sure, made him think that what he did to me was OK, and made me lose credibility with him: "OK, fine, but at least use a condom and you'd better damn well pull out too."

My head was fuzzy and I couldn't think clearly. Everything was blurry, and I noticed the strangest, and most insignificant things. He had scars on his wrist, and I remember thinking "You aren't ACTING like Jesus." It's funny the things we remember in times such as these. 

It didn't take me long to realize exactly what was happening, and I told him to stop, that I couldn't do this. As it turns out, I had been a pretty good judge of character when I had given in, because he got rather angry. He stopped momentarily and started calling me a whore. He accused me of not being a virgin, and asked how many hundreds of guys I'd been with. He told me to "just lay there and let [him] fuck [me]". He grabbed my ankles and held them above my head, and then continued while repeating "just lay there and let me fuck you, you little whore! You like that? That's right, just lay there and let me fuck you." I don't know why, but I didn't scream. I just lie there waiting for him to finish, as silent tears flowed down my cheeks.

When he finished, the room was spinning and hazy. Every word came to me as if it had be spoken from underwater. It was a strangely realistic dream. I went to the bathroom and when I washed my hands, the water started out clear, but then turned black. I remember thinking "that's it, I am stained; my soul is black." (Later I would come to believe that it was actually a very dark red, and I had been washed in the blood of Christ) At this point, I was convinced it must have been a dream, because the symbolism was too much for real life. I went out and asked him if he existed. He looked at me confused. He said he definitely did exist and that I "should be proud, because [I] moved the bed." I made him come into the bathroom, saying the water was black. I still wasn't convinced this had actually happened, and I wanted him to at least see the water, so that I wasn't the only one, but when he turned the faucet it was clear. I felt like I was going to pass out.

I walked out to the futon and sat on the corner of it. There was no way I could stay there, but I knew I couldn't drive. I was not drunk, but for as much of an altered state as my mind was in, I might as well have been. He began talking to me. He kept repeating the same phrase: "You didn't really sin, because all sins are equal in the eyes of God right? So you didn't do anything worse than cussing, that's it, you just cussed. This is natural. Nothing bad happened". In between repetitions of this phrase, he would say something about how "good" I had been, how many girls he had "slept with" (I'm guessing at least some of them, if not all had been under the same circumstances I was), and how much of a whore I was, but he always returned to that one phrase. I never said anything in return.

Eventually I got to the point to where I was at least clear enough that I thought I could get back to my dorm without killing myself or someone else on the way. It was about 2 am, and I was starving so I stopped at the McDonald's drive through (since it was the only thing open) to get a chicken club sandwich. As I drove back to school, I decided that I was going to park my car in the far lot, so that I would know for sure if this actually happened or if it had just been a bad dream.

My Mission:

The next morning, I had very few memories, but I had some evidence, his number, his address, the messages, and the car. They are coming back slowly, and I am in the process of healing. My name is Xiomara Renee. It means "battle-ready and reborn". I am made new in Christ, and I am ready to fight to take back my power and my dignity, and stop this once and for all, but I need your help. Please, share your story, and we can grow to understand one another and become stronger together.

PS. For your own protection, I encourage you not to use any real names if you can avoid it. If you would like to share your story, please leave it in a comment below or send it in an email to skeletonoftar@hotmail.com and I will put your story as a separate post.


-Xiomara Renee