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Abuse Education 

Survivors of abuse, whether it’s physical, mental/emotional, or sexual, need support. Let’s be honest with ourselves, we don’t like talking about those things. It’s graphic and horrible but it’s time to start talking. 

I want to educate you on somethings that happen when someone is abused. If you have never learned about abuse, I want you to take what I say and remember it.

1. We survivors feel shame. Why? Because we think that our abuse is our fault. It is a huge lie that the abuser and society tries to tell us so that they don’t have to deal with the consequences of the abusers actions. I can tell someone all day that the shame that they feel belongs to the person that hurt them. Will that stop them from feeling that shame and guilt? Absolutely not. As the people surrounding them, we need to validate this. We need to change what they think is true but it is ultimately up to the survivor to make an effort to believe the truth.

2. People who haven’t been through abuse, say the stupidest things to the people who have. “Why didn’t you just leave?” “Why did you get so drunk?” “You should have called the cops.” It goes on and on. If you don’t know what to say, here’s a guide line: “I believe you.” “It is not your fault.” “Let me help you.” “Do you want to talk?” Remember that you have no idea what this person is going through and they need your help. They are using their strength to persevere and may not be in the right mind set. Like they my be constantly terrified. Someone may not be able to leave their situation because their abuser is in control of their money and other things they would need to leave. We should be on their side and help them make the right choices and not judge them for not making good decisions at the time. 

3. People who go through abuse are not the same after the abuse is over. They loose control over the basic things that they should have control over. They are violated by a person who is selfish and has no care for human life. I say that because the abuser chooses their need for power and control over the survivors life. The survivor is completely different because of this. They don’t trust, they are paranoid, and they are overwhelmed with sadness and depression. Each person turns out different through abuse but different nonetheless. So don’t expect someone to just pick up their life as it was and move on. What happened is apart of their lives forever and they will spend their lives with it effecting everything they do.

4. Not all abuse is the same. People like to compare situations with other people’s situations. Abuse in all forms cannot be compared to someone else’s. Someone who was molested cannot compare that situation to someone who was raped multiple times for a year. The two people would go through those experiences differently. People can be more sensitive then others. The person who was molested could take more time in therapy then the one who was raped. It’s all about individual experience. We stand independently together. 

5. Society needs to treat people who have been abused much better and differently. We look at Kesha’s case some people are not even phased. She has to work with the man that abused her. The court heard what she had to say about what happened to her, and they refused to terminate her contract with this man. Sony has agreed that she doesn’t have to work with him but every time she releases music and profits, he gets to profit off of her too. That’s absolutely horrendous. You wonder why people don’t report what happens to them. Don’t you think if they did and nothing happened to their abuser, the abuser would go after them? 

As someone who is a survivor, this is coming from my point of view. I decided to write this because I am tired of people not taking abuse seriously. I’m tired of survivors being treated the way they are because people are ignorant. We need to educate ourselves no matter how hard or difficult the topic may be. 

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Uncategorized

What Needed To Be Said…

Warning: this is about molestation. It does go into detail. 

I want to tell you a story. I had a dream that I was 13 again. I was in a court room with a jury, a lawyer, and him. I was subpoenaed to take the stand and answer the questions his lawyer had for me. 

“Are you ready?” The lawyer asked me shallowly. 

I replied with a question, “So you are going to ask me certain questions so that my answers make Mel look not guilty of something he is definitely guilty of?” 

“I’m trying to get the truth.” He said raising his eyebrows. 

I leaned forward towards the mic, “I am 13 years old and my cousin is 9. Mel is somewhere in his 50s. He lived with her for around 8 months before that night. It was a Friday, the first night of our 2 week Christmas break. It took 2 hours to get there, like usual, so it was late that night. We were celebrating Christmas early like we always did. We begged to open one present before we went to bed. My mom and her 2 sisters gave in. We got Christmas pajamas but mine were a bit too small so my stomach showed slightly…” 

“We don’t have all day..” his lawyer interjected. 

“All of this is relevant and the truth. Don’t minimize what happened to me.” He apologized and gestured me to continue. 

I clear my throat, “I wore the pjs anyway. Later I was in my cousin Warren’s room. We were sitting on his bed and playing video games. All of a sudden Mel stuck his head through the door. He wanted us to spend time with the others. We didn’t want to stop playing so we said no thanks. That’s when he started saying that Warren was into me. And that my cousin wanted to have sex with me. I was shocked, I shook it off as his crude humor. He left and I looked over at my cousin and asked if he would go out to where the others were. He agreed. Once we got there Mel was excited that we came and hugged me. I felt uncomfortable due to the fact that I was in puberty and I didn’t have a bra on…” 

“Did you tell your mom that he was saying those things?” He questioned. 

“No I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to think about those things.” 

Jotting something down he replied, “Continue.” 

I took a deep breath, “Shortly after that we were sent to bed. I slept in my 9 year old cousins bed with her, my mom and my aunt tete in my aunt Cindy’s bed, Mel in the living room with my aunt Cindy on the living room floor. Mel came into the room kissed us goodnight and drunkenly struggling to turn off the tv. He left and returned a while later and repeated the same thing. I was confused but I fell asleep right after my cousin. I woke up groggy and on my stomach. I felt heaviness on my legs but I didn’t process the fact that there was someone on top of me and they were licking and kissing the top of my butt untill moments later. I was terrified. I slowly turned my head to see who it was, and once I saw Mel I jolted back to laying flat. He noticed I was awake and slurred ‘shh go back to sleep.'” 

“Did you scream for help?” The lawyer asked connivingly. 

“I was in shock so no. I couldn’t find my voice for a while after it happened.” He nods and tells me to continue. 

“So  I replied to him telling him that I needed to go to the bathroom. I don’t know why I said it. But he got up, pulled up his pants, and backed into the corner of the room where it was darker since the moon was lighting up the room. I got down to the end of the bed to get up and I told myself not to look at him. But I looked up and saw his face. He looked back and he quickly got angry. He came after me and I ran to the bathroom that was in the living room. He knocked and knocked so I told him through the door that I would be right out. I turned on the faucet to make it sound like peeing…”

 “I’m sorry but you were letting him know that you would come out to him? This is extremely difficult to believe.” He scoffed.

 My anger rose up in me, “You know what’s hard to believe? A man being charged with battery for climbing into bed with a 13 and 9 year old and touching one of them sexually. Him getting less then a month in jail for ruining my life. For destroying my family. I can’t close my eyes without remembering how I felt in that bathroom. I close my eyes and I go back to when I realized that I had his saliva all over my butt and inside my buttcrack. I go back to me sitting on the toilet scrubbing myself raw so that I was sure he wasn’t on me and I relive the moment that I realized that he was still out there with my baby cousin and that he has probably already done this to her more then once. I go back to making the decision to take her place that night. I shut my eyes and I remember the feeling I had when I realized that I might loose my virginity to a 50 year old without my consent. That I had to open the door and distract him from my cousin and I had to do it now. And the numbness my body gave me so that I could survive. I relive the relief I had when I opened the door and I found him passed out on the chair and I ran to my cousins room. And I relive my heart breaking laying next to her and deciding instead of not saying anything about it I would tell. I relive every moment. This is what I call unbelievable.” 

There was just silence. The lawyer was just doing his job. I knew that, but I had to do mine. 

Everything ended, he took a deal and spent 3 weeks in jail. He got to go home to his sister and 2 nieces. Maybe if I actually was able to say this in court then he would have never had the privilege to go home. To be surrounded by exactly what he wanted. 

“I failed…”

That’s when I woke up. My heart was racing. It was a crazy dream. Reliving something and imagining something else that I wanted to do so badly. I never had my chance to say what needed to be said. 

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Christianity, Chronic illness, poetry

I’m Just Fine (My First Rap)


People ask me “Why you don’t talk” all the time.

Well here’s your damn answer,

My body’s decaying, it’s breaking.

But no one gives two craps unless it’s cancer.

All I do stare up at ceilings

Trying to ignore the fact that my skin keeps peeling. Off

Damn Doctors, they insult me 

It’s all in my brain, they say.

Thanks Doc,

Slam the car door, mom asks those three words,

“How are you?”

My mouth is under padlock.

She just wants to hear that 

I’m still as strong not easy to knock.

Even if every words a lie.

[CHORUS]

I’m, just, fine.

I’ll be okay, I’m living a normal life.

It’s sad from time to time, but God is kind.

Don’t you worry about me, I’ll bloom on time,

I may have thorns in my sides, but I was made just right.

I have my eyes on the prize, it will just take some patience and Christ.

I’m, just, fine.

[CHORUS]

There’s not light, I look at the time. I have a realization,

The medication can’t stop the PTSD or depression, my silence is a confession, open your eyes and make a correction on how you see me before I make a stupid decision that will make you learn your lesson. 

See me. I’m weaker than you think, don’t blink, you might miss it. Terrified of the what if’s the worlds darkest screw it’s.

You tell me I can’t live this way, I’m lazy and I never move from where I lay. 

No really? you think I wanted this? What about all the things I miss? Really?

This is my body, not me. If pain wasn’t in the damn way I would runaway, stand in line just because this mother could, I would dance all night pretending this white girl was from the hood. Only if I could. 

You ask me with that fake voice, “Girl, How are you!?” 

And so the conversation goes…

[CHORUS]

I’m, just, fine.

I’ll be okay, I’m living a normal life.
It’s sad from time to time, but God is kind.
Don’t you worry about me, I’ll bloom on time,
I may have thorns in my sides, but I was made just right.
I have my eyes on the prize, it will just take some patience and Christ.
I’m, just, fine.
[CHORUS]
What should I say? You all ready know that the pain is chronic, that I have PTSD and I can’t love myself, that I dig so far into my body that bleed, it’s ironic.

Can’t be my own lover so I make myself uglier.

You know that. But say it out loud, you run faster then a freaking street rat. 

So I’m fine. Cuz it’s crime to check box other.

Mother always says to treat others how you want to be treated so I show compassion.

Even after you ask me that question in poor fashion. Because no should be alone.

Even if love was never shown. In the first place.

So I get another text, the same stupid question.

As if I could describe with the words in my possession. So I hold up a mirror and have them ask themselves. Thats all people have wanted since I was twelve.

And…

[CHORUS]

I’m, just, fine.

I’ll be okay, I’m living a normal life.
It’s sad from time to time, but God is kind.
Don’t you worry about me, I’ll bloom on time,
I may have thorns in my sides, but I was made just right.
I have my eyes on the prize, it will just take some patience and Christ.
I’m, just, fine.
[CHORUS]
If the pain would go, my heart could show, and all this loneliness would be just a memory. But just because that’s what it should be doesn’t mean it could be.

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Chronic illness

Terrified and Silent 

Have you ever been terrified of something or someone that wasn’t actually there? Have you ever been in a scary situation that was actually harmless but you created it in your head? I have been terrified of fellow classmates inside elevators. I have locked myself inside of my bathroom until my mom came home because I thought someone was in the house. I have woken up from panic because I thought I could sense someone was about to rape me. PTSD they labeled me. Prescribed medication to help me sleep. You see by the time stamp on this post that the meds are working well. 

Have you ever smelt alcohol on someone’s breath and you travel through time to when you were abused? Reliving it from beginning to end without any way of stopping it. Has anyone ever accidentally touched you in some way that makes you have a panic attack? I always found it interesting that when it happened I couldn’t scream and I could barely talk. But when I’m in a flash back my voice is fine. I find it interesting that even when I wake up at night, I never scream but I know I am in panic. Even now I am obedient,”Shh, go back to bed.” With one whisper replaying in my mind, I still don’t fight. 

I don’t need to fight anymore. I need to live.

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Christianity

Let Him Go, Love God

tumblr_nvg0okceop1un115xo1_500Since I had the ability to remember, I knew I wanted a boyfriend. I knew that I wanted to do life with someone that I was in love with, and someone that was in love with me. As I grew up, it became an obsession. I could blame it on my Dad for not being a great dad and I could blame it on my sexual assault, but those things just made the problem worse.

Once I hit puberty, my search for love and affection went into overdrive. It constantly caused me to be depressed. I would search for something instant, knowing that it wouldn’t work, then I would be rejected. I didn’t handle the rejection well. I would go down this spiral of despair and tell myself that I wasn’t worth loving. Then my first long term boyfriend came along. It was thrilling but shortly after I knew that we were using each other for validation. To prove to ourselves that we could be loved and that we could love someone else. We used each other to feel better about ourselves because our lives sucked. You can imagine how that relationship unfolded.

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For me, It was him.

You don’t actually have to imagine because I’m going to tell you. He was never good enough and there was always some standard that I wanted him to live up to. Most of the standards were reasonable, for an adult male that was mature. He was younger then me and I was expecting him to be the man that he was still learning how to be. Once sex was introduced, we were doomed to fail. We never had sex but we did other sexual things to each other. We wanted to make each other happy because we knew deep down that that was the only way we could keep each other happy. Once you get a taste of something, you want more of it and then you have to go further. For two teenagers wildly enduring hormones, it was hard for us to stop. I remember one time when he went too far and I told him to stop twice. Since I had PTSD from my molestation, I had a panic attack when he wouldn’t get off of me and screamed. He jumped off of me and he was terrified. I didn’t know what to say. I also remember the day my mom walked in on us. We both agreed that we would stop fooling around. That lasted maybe a month, then I started it back up again. I had shame and guilt even before we were caught. I started it back up because I was afraid of loosing him.

 

We looked great on the outside. Everyone thought that we were cute, some tried to break us up. On the inside, however; our relationship was us hurting each other, saying sorry, and then doing something else that hurt the other person. I have abused him, he has abused me. Emotionally, Physically. I have slapped him and he has forced himself on top of me. We were good at faking our communication. He was great at not paying for anything, and I was great at nagging. We should have never been together but at the same time if I never dated him, I wouldn’t know what not to do now. I’m not saying that we didn’t have our good times but they are hard to remember over the explosion of a break up that we had.

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Nearing the start of my senior year, I started truly having faith in God. As that started happening, I was also starting to feel convicted of the choices I made and the relationship I chose to be in. I knew that I needed to break things off with him but I felt like I needed him. I was terrified of being alone and after all he was my best friend. So I waited to see if he would find God with me, and he didn’t. I was being pulled in by desire and lust. I needed to break up with him and I knew that if I did it in person, he would have changed my mind. So I called him, I told him that I couldn’t do this anymore. That the relationship wasn’t good for either of us. That God wanted me to move on and heal things that were there even before he came along. I couldn’t rely on him to make me feel whole anymore. He cried, I cried. We parted ways. Then I started freaking out at the realization that I had no one. So I text him and ask him to take me back. Not because I loved him, because I need him as my crutch. He then begins to tell me that I was a horrible girlfriend. He continued to tell me nasty things that he thought and his friends thought about me. I hear that, given the opportunity, he will tell others about how terrible I am and also about the things that we had done sexually together. Sometimes exaggerated.

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I have grown to ignore what others tell me about what he says. I know I am not whatever person I was in 2014. I will continue to grow and look to my future. I now can be alone with out the despair and the thirst that comes with single life. I don’t have to date the first, second, or third person who asks me out. I am sustained in my faith of the Lord instead of failing to fill myself with the love of a man. There is nothing that he or anyone else can do to change that. I am proud that I am being prepared for my next relationship. Even if my ex keeps intruding into my families life and my life, I know that I don’t have to let that destroy me. My past doesn’t have a hold on me anymore. I have a long journey ahead but I have a choice whether or not I will let my past will effect it or not.

This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!

~2 Corinthians 5:17~

P.S.~ I want to thank my ex, if he is reading this, for helping one of my relatives move. We aren’t talking for a reason and you still helped out my family. Thank you for stepping up like that and putting whatever feelings you have for me aside to help out. I was not able to help due to my many illnesses, so thank you.

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poetry

Be Naked

1509Let me be naked.

Refusing the familiar.

Allow me to feel my own skin.

Dry, soft, or bleeding,

let me appear as I am.

Guilt in my bare hips and

lust with each movement of my

breath and breasts.

Why deny it?

Thrust on me with tongue,

what was craving in him,

quenched by my lack of consent.

Now I am just sex?

So let me show my spine.

See a reflection and greet what’s there.

No personality in objects

to hide my body of shame and dirty talk.

Naked.

Anything

naked.

I will not let foreign saliva and

other forced hands

suffocate me, dress me.

Let me be naked.

 

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Chronic illness

Reliance 


I am reliant. I depend on others, objects, ideas. All of these things intertwine and make up a net that catches comfort and control, continuously feeding my habits. I  get a shaking feeling in my diaphragm and my ribs. Every time life gives the chance for a new love, a new chance. There is no control in love and it terrifies me. New beginnings though, I crave a new start. Change is not my enemy, betrayal is, lies are, the parts of life that are unknown are. I rely on truth, at least what I believe to be true. I rely on my family, blood or not. I do this by choice, or was raised to do so. Which ever sociology or psychology decides to be true. What I do know about psychology is that I can rely on things that no one would ever ask for. Depression, anxiety, PTSD. The internet jokes on how crippling the all are. Can the truth be funny? Or do they confide in humor like I do with film and fiction. It’s that or sink into my brain, all it does is think and spiral. I can always rely on my emotions to cripple me. But I can entrust my bed to keep me. In those times, I pray to God. I ask for the mind to understand what I need to so that I can have faith. I struggle with faith, not with faith in knowing that He is real but faith in knowing that he is there for me. I rely and idolize the secular beauty of speech. Music, poetry, deep conversation. I rely on it temporary emptiness instead of waiting for the rich things God says he provides. I depend on what is immediate and short tempered. All because I can’t afford to break. I’m terrible at puzzles. If I break I’ll have nothing to fall back on. And I’m terrified that I’ll end my life or spend the rest of my life in pieces. I don’t know which one is worse. So I stay where I’m comfortable not where I could thrive because I am porcelain. My reliance will shatter me, and when it does I then will rely on the right things.

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