"The pain of the act was beyond expression. The pain of the shame that I've carried all these years far exceeds it and its ongoing. Everyday its there ready to pounce on me. It has raped my life repeatedly. I don't know how to make it stop."

Maybe I can make It stop by speaking out about what was done, but I can't find my voice. Shall I write It? draw It out? Paint a mural on a wall to shout It out to the world? There's a voice Inside me that wants to scream It loud thereby releasing the weight that hangs on my shoulders, but that voice wont escape my lips. I am wounded and  damaged, screaming and yelling and yet no one can hear through these chains that bind the skin on my lips shut. I tear at the skin, pulling to release the chains, yet fail. I wish to speak, but how?

How am I still here?

He took everything that was beautiful and turned It sick twisted and wrong, I don't enjoy the beauty In the world around me because all of It is somehow tainted by his lies and his hurt. I  don't like opening my windows  or seeing clouds In the sky because as I lay there with his heaviness upon me the clouds were my distraction. He came like a thief In the night breaking Into my body and stealing everything I had, I laid there and let him do as he wished and let my mind take me to far off places, places that existed on the other side of those clouds. I was outside of my body watching from far far away, and pretending I was somewhere else. I couldn't let reality seep In because the reality was too much to bare. Even now, In this moment I don't know how I'm alive, how can I still be here? This pain literally crushes my heart everyday, destroys my mind and disgraces my body. How am I still here? When I starve myself how do I survive? When I over eat to stuff all my feelings down my throat how do I live like that? When I cry enough tears to fill the ocean how do I wake up the next morning? And when the pain is to great that I have to grab on to something solid and drop to my knees from anguish how does it not swallow me whole?  Even when I don't want to, somehow I'm still fighting to survive. Something Inside me won't let what he did destroy me.

I haven't written anything In a little while, sometimes I am ashamed to even be writing my thoughts here, like writing them makes me even dirtier, more disgusting. I know he was the one who was was wrong, the one who was dirty and  horrible, someone could tell me that 100 times over and over again but I still can't believe It. I feel used up, like an old paper towel. Like he used me to wipe his hands then tossed me aside. Does it make me filthy that sometimes I miss the attention he gave to me? I was his princess he told me I was his favorite child, that he liked me more then my siblings. And I believed him, I longed to remain special, and to see the way his eyes lite up when he looked at me. Yes he hurt me, and he hit me, belittled me, used me like trash but that must have been my fault If I would've  just behaved he said than he wouldn't have to hurt me, If I would've just stopped crying then he wouldn't have to give me a reason to cry he told me. It's so hard to see the big picture here. To see that I was a small child, small, weak, defenseless, and ill equipped to handle a situation that  he put me In. As much as I tell myself that I should have done more to stop It, I know deep down that there's nothing that I could've done. I don't believe In fate or things happening for a reason but I believe that things happen and you do the best you can. I was tiny and was given a life that most adults couldn't handle. I did what I could to survive It, I lived.

Staying alive was really the best I could do with the little that I had.

It's the fault of my body

It's the fault of my body, It enticed him, he craved
My body was never my own
 It made him want so I gave


I laid there with him my body empty, lifeless, and hollow
In my tears I was pained
In my sadness I wallowed

 Turning my head and out the window I looked
distracting myself  with the clouds
 while my innocence he took

I wanted to be In those clouds or the trees swaying In the breeze
Not that broken sad child
Begging with her cries and her pleas

It's the fault of my body, It made him yearn and desire
So he went after It and killed my body with his  fire

 I fought him I tried kicking and pushing him away with my might
But his weight was so heavy
 I gave up the fight

Out he walked and there I lay, dead and engulfed in my pain
I got ready for school and walked away
slowly hanging my head In shame

dead was my body sore hurt and raw.
no one ever bothered to care or question
 the bruises that they saw

Its the fault of my body and the dresses that I wore
He said I was asking for It
And called me his little whore

It's the fault of my body and the innocence that I had
He used his power over me for something bad

It's the fault of my body It showed him how to take
How to come in and steal
and my soul to break

Running

Running, running, running, through the house. A different house, and I am older now. Eighteen. I run to my room and try to slam the door shut. He Is still stronger. He pushes hard against It, and I push back. Finally he wins and the door slams open. I stumble backwards. He grabs me and throws me on the bed.

He hasn't done that In a long time. He had stopped. He only hit. She died so I felt bad for him and stayed. I thought If he only hit me It was safe to stay. This time was different. I fell on the bed on my back and he dragged me towards him. I screamed for help but knew like before no one would come to save me. I knew what was coming. I could feel It like a lump In my throat. He started to yank at my clothes, tried to take off my pants. This wasn't going to happen again. I kicked him. I kicked him hard. He stumbled back and got angrier. He lunged at me. His body was met with my kick again. I never stopped kicking. He flew against the wall. Got up and tried again this time when I kicked him he fell and flew Into a chair. He was hurt. I was stronger. I wasn't that small tattered bird anymore. I could fight. I could stop It. I got up and I ran. I ran down the stairs and out of the house. I kept running until I couldn't run anymore.

And I never went back

The closet

I sat In the closet last night, I closed my eyes, and I started to drift. I went back to that other time and saw what I didn't want to. But the closet felt safe. It felt familiar, and It felt warm so I let the badness In. I can sit In there and remember the bad things and soak up my tears with the clothes. Maybe I did this when I was little. Yes I think I did. I see doors In front of my face, with light seeping In through the cracks. I hear movement on the other side, I see the way his dark shadow fell and covered the light. The closet door opened, I want to pretend for a moment that the little girl Is not me. She Is crying. Devil grabs her by her arm yanking hard for her to come out. He closes the door to the bedroom.

I can't say anymore

He's on top of her, grunting and pushing, trying to fit where he doesn't belong. He says she's a big girl now. She didn't want to be big, in fact she felt very small. She WAS small, tiny In comparison to him. Laying underneath him being crushed by his weight. She struggles to breath. Not being able to take complete breaths. This was made even worse when his hand was over her mouth. It was day time. She could see the trees outside the window. The blinds were opened and the sunlight poured into the room spreading It's rays over her face and across his back.

I can't say anymore

Where was everyone? It was day time. I was screaming wasn't I? Or was that all In my head? Was I mute then? Had I given up? Why was the house so quiet? Where was my sister? My brother? Where was my mother? Who left me alone with him? Who thought that was okay? Why didn't anyone save me?


I see more. He climbs off. Zips his pants, and walks away closing the door behind him. She lays there In the disgusting filth. Hurting, bleeding, and numb, watching the trees blow In the breeze outside the window.

hiding

I am hiding between mommy's bed and the wall. He Is coming and we are alone In the house. I quiet my breathing so he doesn't hear. I can hear his boots as they enter the room. The smell of him everywhere. Harsh steps moving fast throughout the room. They stop, I am found, I squeeze my eyes shut tight and wait. He grabs me It's over.

That's all I remember

Go Away!

I've been shutting the memories out of my head all day. My mind wants to remember more. My mind wants to force all that bad ugliness In. "I can't just sit and think about this now I'm working!" I tell my mind. It doesn't listen, It forces It's way In anyways. I  can't run from It, I can't hid from It. And I can't function without It spilling into my brain like poison. I can tell It to go away, or come again another day. But when I shut It out I feel worse, I hurt worse. And It doesn't stay away for long. It always creeps back In on me, leaving me with this black cloud of pain above my head hanging there for the world to see. I wish I could release all of this hurt that's on my heart, just let It all go with one single action. Be done and move on. But It's not that simple. I don't want to remember today. I want a break. I am playing a game of tug-a-war with my brain. It's pulling the rope tighter and harder on It's end, while I lose the battle due to my weakness and crash to the earth face first. I don't want to remember today. I don't want to cry. I refuse to close my eyes, I refuse to let It control me today. I just want a break.


Please go away bad things I beg of you now.
I wish to sleep but I don't know how

I don't like these memories, or these  pictures that I  see
I screamed and cried but no one ever came to save me

Please go away and don't bring any more pain
GO AWAY I feel like If you don't I will go insane

I don't want to feel, or remember his touch
run away memories, I don't want to see you, It hurts to much

Please go away, you've shown me what I never wanted to see
slip from my mind, vanish from my thoughts, please just let me be

I don't want want to remember his smile, sweat or his smell
Or the way he made that tiny baby promise not to tell

Please go away bad memories, It pains me to breath
 Everything hurts, I need time to grieve

I don't like the dirtiness and the way I've carried this shame
I've spent my whole life walking this earth thinking I was to blame

Please go away bad memories, I wish that you had never come
when you grace my presence you leave and I feel numb

I don't like to hear the voice In my head of that  child begging him to stop
Or remember as he didn't listen, threw her down, and climbed on top

Please go away bad memories you make my body remember what It once forgot
I also remember dolls, jewelry, and toys he left, making him think forgiveness he'd bought

I do not wish to see any further or to remember the blood that ran down her skin
what that father did was wrong, sick, and disgusting, It was the ultimate sin

Please go away I hate everything I see in these horrible, hurtful things
I feel like a bird laying waiting to die with its broken tattered wings

I do not wish to know what was done, be a victim, or live any longer in this past
I ache, I hurt, I scream, I cry, I beg, I see, I remember how long will this last?

Please go away all sadness you've been here far far to long
My heart Is always aching and singing Its sad sad song

I don't like these bad dreams or this life living with these  fears
My heart Is heavy and my body Is raw, I am blinded by my tears

Please go away bad things I beg of you now
I wish to sleep but I don't know how

The memories that play In my head like a movie

I am sitting here. I close my eyes. The darkness takes over again. I see two different memories play In my head. In one I am six maybe seven and I am sitting In the bathroom crying my pajamas have blood on them. I don't remember what happened. Or why I am bleeding but I'm In pain. All I see Is this bruised, crying child.

The second memory, I am older maybe 13 or so. Devil Is chasing me down the hall way he has knives In has hands, my heart Is racing. My legs aren't fast enough. I run into my room and try to close the door, but hes too strong. It fly's open. And that's all I see. I don't know what happens when he catches me.

My heart cries for those little girls with these unfinished stories.

Writing exercise #2: Grieving

Write about what you've lost, what was taken, what was destroyed. Write about the extent of the damage. Write about the things you need to grieve for. This is a chance to give a voice to your pain, and to write how you feel about your loss.

At first I felt stupid crying and getting so upset about something that happened so long ago. It's over I'm safe now so why are these tears still falling? I also thought It was silly for me to even be sharing my story because other people have It so much worse. Who was I to complain? But I've realized that EVERY experience counts, EVERY story matters...even mine.

When ever someone dies there Is a mourning process for those that he or she left behind. Everyone somehow grieves for what was lost. They cry, they scream, they get angry. They express them selves. They let their feelings out.

The same process should happen for a child who was sexually abused. They should be able to cry, scream, and  get angry for what they lost, for what was taken from them. If a child Is abused and someone intervenes, stops it, and gets the them help. They can start healing then and there. Maybe the damage can be lessened. But what happens to kids like me? Ones who no one stepped In to save...Do we have to save ourselves? I never got to cry, I never got to scream, I NEVER got to get angry. He hit me, molested me, and raped me and Instead of crying over It I went on with life. I got up the next day and went to kindergarten. And every time he hurt me In some way I lost a part of my self. That little girl died In that house, my father killed her spirit, her laugh, and her ability to trust. He killed everything that was important. I need to mourn for what was lost. What she lost. That little one didn't get a saving, or intervention then. But I get one now. I want to cry, and scream and get angry until there's no anger left. I can't move forward until that need Is met. I have to look all of this hurt In the eye and fight It with every ounce of myself.

He took away my ability to choose, my choice of saying no. He took away experiences that I never got to have, relationships I never got to build. He took away my discovery of sex on my own. He took possession over my  virgin body and did what he wished with It. Now no matter how far I am on my journey sex will ALWAYS be linked to bad, evil, hurtful things. His actions made me question the motives of every man I ever come In contact with. The physical acts left less scars then the emotional scars. I have to grieve for what was done to my body, my soul, and to my mind.

It WILL be hard but this Is the only way I can come out on the other side. It's going to take time, It can't be rushed. Every new memory that emerges must be dealt with. When I wrote about the crib scene, the 1st memory I have. And when I cried over It and let myself really feel It, The dreams about It stopped. Now that memory doesn't feel as hurtful as It did before. I am growing, I am making progress.

I have to keep writing, I have to keep feeling, I have to cry, and scream, and I have to get angry. I have to let the feelings out before they tighten their grip they have on me. "You have a lot to grieve for. You grieve for your violation, abandonment, shame, and fear. You grieve for your losses In the past and In the present, for the harm that was done to you, the wounding you now must heal, the time and energy It takes, the money It costs, the relationships ruined, the pleasures missed. You grieve for the opportunities lost while you were busy coping. You grieve for the  shattered image of a world that is just, where children are cared for, where people respect each other. You must mourn your lost innocence." - The Courage To Heal book

It's late...

I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking right now. I have a million thoughts bouncing through my head. Most of them are about my future. I just mostly wonder what type of life I will have. I'm 22 and have so much time left but It feels like I've already lived an eternity. I want all of this to become something that happened to me but made me a stronger person. I don't want to be labeled by this forever. I may have the scars both emotionally and physically that serve as constant reminders but maybe I can see those scars as showing me where I've been, and how far I've come. I've traveled a road that very few survive on. I may be damaged but I'm here. I want to live, I want to travel and see parts of the world I've only dreamed of until now. I want to fall head over heels In love, and I want to get my heart broken. As crazy as that seems I want that because that's a basic human experience that almost every person has had. It's a part of life. It helps people grow Into the adults they end up becoming. I want all of those experiences because what Is life without It? If every life was perfect we would get bored. I've already been through the worst of life short of death...everything else seems relatively easy in comparison. I also want to have babies, I want to hold their tiny bodies In my arms and count their tiny toes while whispering promises to love them forever In their tiny ears. I don't even know If I would make a good mother but It's something to think about. I want the option. I want to have everything and also very little all at the same time. I just want happiness.

I don't know what the future holds for me but It has to be better then what the past held. I am optimistic then one day I will look In the mirror and say "I may not be fully healed and I may never be, but I love myself, and others  love me and I'm happy. And today that's enough"