Skip to main content

Sometimes we have to name our demons before we can fight them

**Trigger Warning-Discussion of Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault**

We were both 17 when we met. He was beautiful. I was the pretty girl with no sense of self-worth. I was still a virgin. I felt lucky to be wanted by him. He was like the hero in all the romance novels I had been reading. There were no indications, at first, that anything might be wrong, because usually, there aren't.

We had been together a month when I decided that I was ready to "go all the way" with him. And then the pain happened, and it hurt so bad I begged him to stop. I was crying and hitting him but he was very strong.

When it was finally over and I tearfully asked him why he didn't listen, he said that he had "a job to complete". Now, after a pronouncement like that, I should have said goodbye. I should have left. I should have tried to file charges. But this was 1993. Opinions about consent were a different thing and I had initiated the act. How could I withdraw my consent in the middle? Besides, all the romance novels said that the first time could be rough but that his love for me would eventually gentle him.

It didn't get better. In fact, it got so much worse. It was shortly after that night that the possessive behaviors began. I spent all of my free time, in and out of school, with him. We lived 2 blocks away from each other so he came to my house every morning to catch the bus. In the afternoons we alternated between my house or his, depending on who would be home but we always had much less supervision at his house. Weekends were spent together for as long as possible. When we separated physically at the end of each night, we both went home and got on the phone with each other until I eventually would doze off. Only then would he let me go to bed. I rarely went anywhere with friends because I might do something I shouldn't be doing. I couldn't even tuck in my shirts because someone might look at my backside. Every single thing I did, every thing I wore, every place I went was approved by him.

Wrapped up in all of this was an incredibly severe case of OCD that resulted in hand and face washings that were so frequent that his skin was affected. This did not help matters.

And yes, the sexual assaults continued. I don't remember all of it, but I do remember some episodes very vividly. I don't know dates or times but I remember the moments like it was yesterday. I remember bruises, and being sore all the time. He never really hit me though. Almost, but never quite until that last night, about a year in, when I finally said no and he jerked me across the room by my arm. Because that's the key here. I never really said no. I didn't know that I could. I might protest but I always gave way. But on that freezing cold January night, I fled back to my house. He stalked me for about two weeks before my parents finally threatened to have him arrested. I never told them what really happened. Maybe they knew, maybe they didn't.

And now you're asking the inevitable question: Why didn't I leave? Why didn't I tell my parents? Why didn't I do something? I didn't leave because I thought we were in love. I didn't tell my parents because I didn't want them to say "I told you so". I didn't leave because I thought I deserved this. I was 17, I was damaged, and I thought that this was what true love was.

I would re-count the story of my first time to people in later years and shrug it off as just a bad first time. Social conditioning led me to believe that it was normal. It wasn't until a few years ago, when talking to my husband about it, that I finally began to call it rape. That's when I could see how this experience, with the most beautiful boy I had ever seen, had colored every sexual interaction I would have in my life going forward, and the ways that I interacted with people in general. So much of my self-esteem was broken in those moments, in that year, and when the breaks healed, they healed wrong.

It took me almost 25 years to accept what happened to me. Am I all better now? No, of course not. But I understand myself and my actions better. I know what real love is, and is not. I know myself now, my value and my worth, and I know that I am not a victim. I am a survivor.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"You don't look like your dad!" Tales of Legal Adoption

"You don't look like your dad. You must be the spitting image of your mother!" or "Your brothers look just like your dad! I bet you take after your momma." I heard these statements a lot growing up. And it's true. I don't look like my dad. And for a while, I didn't really look like my mom. I do now, but that isn't the point. You see, my dad adopted me when I was around six or seven years old. He had been a part of my life, for, well, all of it. When my mother and biological father (sometimes I refer to him as my sperm donor, because I think it's funny, but his name is Chris), got divorced, my dad, Kenny, married my mom resulting in a blended family of me, who was biologically my mom's, and my two brothers, who were biologically his. Suddenly I went from being the only child to being the middle child in a family dynamic that takes a lot of explaining to do. They say divorce and the things I supposedly went through in my early childhood...

Melanie and Melanie: Growing up with Separated Lesbian Moms in the South

I came from a sperm bank, well I came from a vagina, but first I came from a sperm bank. That’s not generally my opener, but we need to make it clear. My moms discovered their sexuality long before I came along in 1992. When I was three, they separated. Gay marriage had not been legalized up to this point, so there was no divorce process involved. However, my mama, Sharon, she gave birth to me, and she wanted full custody of me. My other mom, Sylvia, worked tirelessly to pay for my existence and Sharon’s pregnancy care; she loved me, and I was her child no matter what. They went to court, and Sylvia became one of the first lesbian parents in the state of Texas to receive shared custody of a child that was not biologically hers. In some cases, this still doesn’t always happen, particularly in cases with gay and lesbian parents, regardless of how involved the parent is in their child’s life. “Who do you want to live with?” Flash forward seven years or so, and I’m being given more...

Storytelling for Social Cohesion

            If I had the opportunity to create an intensive storytelling workshop series for the public, I would like to focus my efforts on something that would be a boon to whole communities, rather than focusing on simple self-help. Though I do think that there are many self-focused narrative-crafting tools that are extremely healing and necessary, I think that our tendency in this capitalist culture is to locate the source of all of our problems squarely within ourselves. We are always discouraged from looking at the systemic causes of our alienated condition, and all the self-help in the world will not solve major forms of social and political oppression.              I would craft a series that blends both self-healing and community-healing forms of narrative. I would like to model my workshop series on the techniques and methods of a Palestinian-Israeli youth...