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About blackbird23

  • Birthday 06/23/1989

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    Art, writing, watching movies like "Kite Runner" - bit of a trigger though, and reading Stephen King books <3
  1. It all comes back to Kurt

    Lately I seem to focus on the re-victimization I got myself into more than anything else. I loved him, Kurt... I trusted him like I had never trusted anyone before. When I told him about what my father did to me it turned him on. I didn't realize it at first. I would sit at his feet, kind of like I sat at my father's feet when I was small, and I would talk. I would beg him to understand. He got so angry on my behalf when I told him about the terror I felt for so many years, about the disassociation, about the things that hurt too bad to disassociate from like crawling on the garage floor, like sitting on the bathroom mat with semen on my thighs sobbing. He would tell me that we would get him back together, we'd get him, he would never lay one hand on me again... Then I realized it turned him on, me being in pain... He would bite me hard enough to leave bruises the size of saucers (you know, the little plates you put your tea on) on my arms, on my chest. He ripped my nipple piercings. He would wear this piercing on his icky-bit that would rip inside of me when he had sex with me. Once he looked me in the eyes and said that he would make me try everything. Everything. I told him that there were certain things that I couldn't do... Certain things that I never would be able to do because when my dad hurt me... Well, now certain things are triggers, like semen on my thighs. That's a big one. And I can't give blow jobs and never will be able to. That's just how it is. He pushed me too far and I ran away. He told me he loved me. Told me he wanted to be with me. Wanted us to have a life together. But then he went to my father. He told my father what I had told him about the abuse and my father had said that if I ever talked about it... Well, I'm sure everybody knows the threat... He cut up the stuffed animal that I used to hold when I sat on my bed crying and waiting in fear when I was small... A stuffed animal that was equal parts a trigger and a comfort. He would look at porn in front of me if I wouldn't put out, he checked out other girls regularly as though I wasn't special to him, and he would have sex with me even when it hurt, even when I was crying, if I was whimpering or pulling away he would just get more into it. I don't understand. I just don't get it. I'm with somebody now who isn't like that. He's been my friend for a long time and he understands and would NEVER ever hurt me. If he was doing something that hurt me he would stop the second he realized it. He's gentle and loving. When he looks at me I know that he wouldn't hurt me. Not emotionally, not physically, and certainly not sexually. He would never push me, never put me down, never look at me like I'm just an object. But sometimes I find myself thinking about Kurt, about what Kurt did to me and I get scared, really scared. I know that the person I am with isn't like that, he's so gentle and warm... But it's hard not to compare them, it's hard to believe that I could be with somebody like him... That he could love me as much as he does, that I could love him as much as I do. I think I'm struggling with flashbacks so much now because I am used to love being the kind of love that my father showed me... that Kurt showed me... I'm not used to this kind of love and it frightens me.
  2. Because of You...

    It's all so simple, repeating patterns. As I think back... It was so easy to fall into bad patterns, patterns of abuse... It was so easy to fall in love with the kinds of people who would profess love and then hurt me because that was what I was shown as a child. I am angry. He had no right to do what he did. I think I'm just starting to understand that fully. He had no right to my body. No right to my soul. No right to make me feel like he did. He had no right and you know what? You know what? I am okay. Sometimes I get flashbacks and the "Mean Reds" but I'm getting stronger. I'm getting better. Everyday I get a little bit stronger. It's taking time. But one day, I know this, one day I'll wake up and it won't hurt anymore.
  3. Why do we go back?

    His name was Kurt and no matter how hard I try I can't talk about him, not out loud. This is the closest I've come to acknowledging what he did to me. It has been one year, three months, two weeks, and two days since I last saw his face. I think I need to rewind a little bit before I can say what I need to say. I guess I don't care if anyone reads this, I need to do this for myself. So here goes. One year before I met him I was engaged. The person that I was engaged to didn't understand when I told him that I was having flashbacks, that I had been hurt and I thought that I knew who did it, that everything from my childhood to my early teenage years backed up the flashbacks... He didn't understand. It was hard for him to acknowledge that the girl that he had loved for the past two years had been raped by her father... When he wasn't there for me I had drifted, I needed somebody to believe in me. I needed somebody to understand that I wasn't full of it. I needed somebody to understand what the abuse had done to me, why the cutting wasn't my fault, why even if it was it was explainable, it was the reaction to an action. It wasn't some defect created by my own devices. Anyways, things went downhill, I started acting in pornographic videos because I didn't know better. Maybe I did. I didn't feel better though. It was a dark, dark time, but that story is for another time. This is all background information. When my now ex fiance moved away I had to move back to my parents' house. It wasn't really a choice but it was what it was. When I got back there I would stay up all night hiding in the bathroom. It wasn't that I was scared that it would happen again... I just couldn't be alone, not in that room, not at that time, and maybe some part of me was scared that it would happen again and I am just lying to myself by saying otherwise. Things happened and about four months after I moved home I met a man named Colin. He was thirty five and I was nineteen but I didn't much care. When he "lured" (that was what he called it) me back to his house I followed because I didn't know that I deserved better. He had a hard time keeping it up, (I did notice the pun but it wasn't on purpose) but once he was finished he tried to hold me. I liked that even less then lying there while he did me. I liked it significantly less in fact. As soon as I could I ran home. I ran home like it was the only thing that mattered and I showered but I didn't feel better. It was like the water couldn't wash away the shame that I felt inside of me. That was the first night that I met Kurt as well. He was Colin's roommate. He was sitting on the floor, his dark greasy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and he was smoking out of his... well I don't know what it's called but it looked like a bong only it wasn't. He was sitting on the floor leaning against something playing video games. Colin introduced me and Kurt looked up just to give me a once over and said "Hey." I don't know why I remember that so clearly. I remember him so clearly. I remember virtually everything to do with him. I have so good memories with him too. I remember the time that he stuck up for me when I came back to their place, alone, drunk, falling over, and I let myself in because Colin had given me keys at that point to get my stuff so I could go home and he had been so angry at Colin for letting me walk home alone... For everything. He was so quick to jump to my defense if somebody wronged me. I always invited him to the parties I had at the apartment that I moved into. He was always sitting in the corner smoking or eating those pot cookies or brownies I made but it was reassuring having him there. He grew on me so quickly and so thoroughly. He pushed me in a shopping cart at full speed down a very busy street where I live. He was just there for me. I started working for him when I lost my other job, it wasn't surprising that I lost that job. I would skip work to stay home and cut myself sometimes and I was always wrapped up. I was hard working but that didn't make up for my lack of reliability. The first day I worked for Kurt he had me crawling around the bridal shop in the middle of the night putting tape so he could paint. He loved the way that I worked and he told me that. It took a few more shifts of working with him before all of a sudden we became friends and then we were talking all the time. I opened up to him, he promised to teach me everything. He was going to teach me how to make stained glass, how to turn it into art, how to defend myself... He was going to teach me everything that he knew. He believed in me and I believed in him. Once I got paint on one of the wedding dresses, I managed to get the paint off but I told him that I should try it on so we could make sure that it was all off. I put it on and it fit perfectly, maybe you would have had to see it to believe it. But it did. It was my size. It was my style. I stood there in the wedding dress paint with paint in my dreadlocks and the way that he looked at me... I think that was the moment that he fell in love with me, his version of love anyways. I had moved into their apartment and that night I slept on the couch. It was something that Kurt and I had talked about, I don't really remember the reasons but I remember that we had them. When I woke up Kurt was sitting on the other couch playing video games. This made me smile to myself and we started drinking the second that Colin was gone to work. We had worked all night and slept for a couple hours tops and we were sitting and drinking and I told him everything, I mean I opened up to him about things that I had never said aloud before, things that I had only allowed myself to think on occasion. I said these things aloud to him. I opened myself up to him like he was worth it. After another alcohol run we returned "home" and he got angry on my behalf at some of the things that my father had done to me and he punched a hole into the wall, I had followed him and I tried to do the same, of course I only succeeded in hurting my hand. He was in the bathroom and didn't see this silly little thing that I had done but when he saw me standing there and saw my hand he promised to teach me how to punch. He was playing with my dreads when it happened. He looked at me, looked me dead in the eyes, and then we were kissing and then we had knocked over the couch after sliding it across the floor, and then we toppled onto the floor. Somehow we made it to his room and we were in there for hours. In this time he ripped my nipple piercings and had bit me hard enough to leave a selection of bruises on my shoulders and on my chest. I told him that it was okay later when he asked but maybe it wasn't. The rest of the story can wait for another time.
  4. I find it kind of funny...

    There's a quote from a song which keeps running through my head lately: "I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I ever had." I'm not a victim anymore, sometimes I have to look at myself in the mirror and whisper it aloud as a reminder. Every day I remind myself that I have to take responsibility for my actions - both good and bad. It's not that what he did to me doesn't affect my actions it's just that I am making my own choices now and nothing that he said and nothing that he did changes that. I like it. I like being accountable. I even like it when I do something wrong because it's mine. When I ran away, moved away, whatever you want to call it... I found myself in bad situation after bad situation and I told myself that I had no idea how I got there - did I slip and fall into it? No, no... I was raped by my father and thus I had to act in porn right? The excuses were enough to drive a person mad. No matter what I did or who I did in some cases... It was always his fault, not mine. I hated him with all my heart... Now, I don't forgive him. It was not forgivable. I am not okay with it. It was not okay. But I have relinquished him of control over my life. As it should be. I'm not angry anymore. But that's a two sided coin isn't it? My best friend was abused as well. I hate the person who hurt him. Hate... With my whole heart. I despise him. For all of my talk about how I had to let go of the hatred so that I could live free on my own I can't let go of my hatred for the person who hurt the person that means so much to me... The nightmares are back. I hate this time of the year. Every morning I wake up in a cold sweat - that's if I can fall asleep, and covered in bruises, I think that I struggle a lot against him in my sleep even though he isn't here anymore. How do you maintain the balance between righteous anger and letting go and living your own life? Is such a thing possible?
  5. Dear WTW, I do not know exactly you feel but I do understand exactly what you are saying about feeling like you belong to your dad and feeling guilty... I feel the same way sometimes. I'm sending you all sorts of good thoughts and hugs - if you want them. Stay strong. No matter what it feels like right now I believe that you are doing the right thing - what you need to do to heal. You are very brave.
  6. wow, again i know what you're going through. i am with a boy / man who did similar things to me only I haven't actually got the courage to leave him yet... you're post was inspiring it makes me feel like i want to leave and maybe one day i'll be brave enough too.
  7. just so you know - it was never your fault and if anyone says it is they're stupid pigs rebecca
  8. wow. i really feel your pain. i was sexually abused by my grandfather and uncle and i know what you mean about cutting and about wanting them to feel what you feel. i understand completely. i know that probably sounds really shallow but I do. I hope you know that you're not alone - not even close. if you ever need someone to talk to I'm here. rebecca
  9. Still cry myself to sleep sometimes

    Hey all This is my first time doing something like this and I have no idea what I'm doing so I'm just going to go with it. I've been through a lot as I'm sure you all have and sometimes I wonder what the point is. I made a really good friend recently and my habit is to leave as soon as people get close and I don't want to this time. He's not like anybody else I've ever known and I'm scared. I don't want to run away like I always do but I don't know how to stick around so I thought talking about it might help me overcome my fears so I can stay friends with him. He's really nice and all the men in my life have been so cruel. I don't want to kill my friendship with him because I am used to people being mean... It seems unfair to me. Besides, I'm going for heart surgery soon and I don't know if I'll ever get the chance to stick around and stop crying myself to sleep or checking the bathroom closet even though I know nobody is in there. Rebecca
  10. That's gotta be hard. Don't forget to take care of yourself too. If being around your sister's husband is bad for you then you shouldn't just worry about her, don't forget to look out for yourself.
  11. hey, i know exactly how you feel like nobody is ever going to care about you except people who want to abuse you. I'm in the same boat. Hey, who knows maybe both of us will find somebody who doesn't want to use wither of us one day