Being me

Its been a long time since I first started and wrote on this site. I had such good intentions. I was going to get my friends to write here about their experiences, I even had their buy in. They were very keen – but obviously not that keen as there is no further writings.

But now, well, I may, or may not write about my friends and what I know of their experieces in the sexual abuse arena – but I won’t do it now.

Now I have something else to write – something also close to my heart. You see, I am pregnant. With a little girl. And now, I think about these things and I have all these hopes and dreams and fears and, perhaps the word is regrets?

I am looking forward to meeting this small tiny person growing in my belly. What I want for her are things I never had.  Things I never knew existed at the time – my life was that way, and that’s just how it was. You see, my parents got divorced before I even started school, and my father moved to another town and didn’t really interact with us on a regular basis – sure we saw him during school holidays, but by the time we were a bit older, we were seeing him maybe once a year, and he’d phone us on our birthdays… But my little girl, well her dad is one of the most amazing men on the planet.

Munchkin was unplanned… she was an accident, but one that we are excited about none the less… and her dad, well, I know that he is going to be a great dad. The way that he is with me, the way that he looks after me and thinks about everyone around him – he is one of the most kind and caring people I know. And he will be a wonderful father. In fact, I’m almost jealous of her – knowing what a great dad she’s got, vs the one that I grew up with…

I am feeling so many different things at the moment, because of her, despite her, my emotions are up and down and inside out. I know its hormones and that they will calm down (a bit) and I will one day return to the cool and calm and collected me… but for now, I am just worried about the silliest things. I guess because there’s no more than just me to worry about, some things just automatically seem bigger – like the fear that something will happen to her dad. I worry about him ALL THE TIME! I didn’t before… I just enjoyed him before. but now… I just worry and worry and worry. I also worry about her all the time. Is she ok in there? Is she developing properly – I guess this is what “pregnancy brain” is – you are so busy worrying all the time about “me me me” and the things in “your” life. Your focus (or mine at any rate) shifts from the external to the internal. Perhaps its just a protective thing – looking out for you and the little one inside that has only you to protect him/her.

All I can say, for now, is that I hope, above all things, that my daughter does not experience abuse – ever. of any type. from anyone. ever. I know I won’t be able to protect her from everything. But this is my first and foremost desire. That she be protected from this evil. The evil of having someone go against her wishes. The evil of having someone force their will upon hers.

I wish her only goodness in the people around her. Pure and good intentions. Love and respect and honesty. Integrity in those that she chooses to spend her time with. I hope that we raise her right. That she will be someone who can be loved and respected and will allow others to care for her and will care for others.

This is my wish for her.

The reason for this site…

The main reason for this site is that I want people to understand, and realise that they aren’t alone. Especially woman who have been sexually abused or raped.

Its not a nice topic, not a friendly one… but it is a valid one – woman are being abused everywhere. Rapes are occurring everywhere. And not everyone is comfortable or even able to talk about what has happened to them.

Many of my closest friends have been raped or abused – 4 out of 5 of my closest friends in fact. Now, I’m not sure if that’s because for some reason they are attracted to me because I listen… or because I’ve attracted them so that I can speak to them… I’ll tell you the story of 3 of them, and then another friend who seems to have slipped by the way side… What I have heard from them, and the behaviour I’ve seen them exhibit.

As I tell you about them, perhaps you’ll understand more about me and why this is a subject close to my heart.

I have been told in the past that I was raped… or that what had happened to me was rape, but I’m not sure I believe it – I know that what it was was not my fault, and I know that it was often easier to just say “ok, lets go”… so I’ll start this site with my brief story….

I was 18 years old and had been dating my then boyfriend for 2 years. I had just moved in with him (after finishing high school). Yes, I was young, but it seemed like my only option at the time. Moving in with him that is.

I had had thrush for quite a while – going away, coming back, never really gone, always lurking, waiting in the shadows… I’d heard how you can pass thrush on to your partner, and then they can give it back to you if they aren’t treated as well – needless to say, I tried all the conventional methods of getting rid of thrush (candida), but nothing really worked.

This constant problem made me very sore, itchy and sensitive in certain areas, and my then boyfriend was a rather highly sexed individual – he wanted it often. Because I was sore all the time, I really started disliking sex. I mean really. It was painful, itchy and very unpleasant.

He started saying things to me like “You don’t love me anymore, you don’t want to sleep with me anymore”. I did still (think I) love(d) him, but he didn’t understand how unpleasant it was for me. It became easier for me to roll over, let him have his way with me while I gritted my teeth and just took it. Its a pretty picture I know.

And then one day I had had enough. I was underneath him telling him to stop, telling him it was to sore, crying… tears rolling down my face, and still he kept at it. He hadn’t heard me, he hadn’t cared. I somehow managed to get my feet up onto his chest and I kicked. I kicked him right off me, across the room and into the wall. He was furious with me – thankfully he never hit me (he did have those tendencies, but never struck me directly). But that was the end of that. After that I knew that I couldn’t be with him anymore. I knew that I needed to get out. I needed a safe space, where the man that I loved would stop when I said. I needed a place where what I said mattered.

Within 2 months I had moved out and back home. It was the hardest decision I had ever made. He was my first love, he was my future. But he was also someone who hurt me.

The feelings I had from my months / years spend with this boyfriend lasted a long time. I had a few boyfriends after him, but he had changed me. I wasn’t really interested in sex. It spoiled the relationships I was in, because somehow I was dating men who found sex to be the most important part of a relationship. Most days I knew that they weren’t the same person as the man who had emotionally humiliated and drained me, but other days, any sexual advances made me cold. I would say no and switch off – I wouldn’t even want to hold their hand – and if they carried on, just wanting to hold me, nothing more, I would get angry and leave, walk away.

I didn’t realise for a long time that it was because of my first love. I didn’t realise it until I met and dated and loved (briefly) someone who wasn’t pushy, someone who didn’t seem to care whether we had sex or not… it was a short relationship, but it also showed me more about myself, it showed me more about relationships and it gave me the confidence I needed… For years I would still occasionally find sex painful – and feel myself closing up, retracting… pulling away. I would say stop, and they would stop. But I always felt like I had disappointed them, betrayed them in some way.

Today I find myself looking back and knowing that the relationship that I am in now, the man that I am now living with, I know that he would never hurt me in that way. I know that sex isn’t the bee all and end all of a relationship – sure, when the sex life is good, the relationship may be better, but it doesn’t have to define the relationship. When I tell him its a little bit sore, he stops straight away, no questions asked, no “how sore” or “can I carry on for a little bit longer” or “but baby, I’m almost there”.

The difference? I am finally in a place where I can and do respect myself. It took me a long time to get here… to a place where I am comfortable with my sexuality – where I can initiate sex without being disgusted with myself, where I can have pain free sex.

I’m still not convinced that what happened to me was rape – but if you look at the definition of rape, then it says “if you stated no and he continues” – we were having sex and I said “stop”. I told him to stop, and he didn’t. I knew him, loved him, trusted him and he betrayed that trust. That is what I do know.

I also know that I haven’t thought about this in years, or spoken about it in such depth. But there it is. My story.

Perhaps the reason I have so many friends who have experienced the trauma that they have is because I can understand the depression, the feelings of unworthiness… and also the fact that I still love and accept them for who they are – regardless of, or despite what has happened to them. They are all beautiful people… and I would invite them into my life again if I had to do it again.

p.s. I finally got rid of the thrush (candida) after seeing a homeopath and he gave me all sorts of things to help clear it up. It took 6 months, but it worked. And now – well in the last few years I get thrush perhaps once every 12 to 18 months – and it is mild…

Silence has a voice

A place to write your story