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Now... I remembered one night when a dear friend of mine came by my house, I was spacing out a lot and he tried hugging me but I freezed like usual yet this time he looked at me and panicked since I looked pale like the dead, he said a couple of reasuring words... trying to calm me down and after breathing a little I felt better then I turned around to look at the reflection of the street lights over my friend's dark red car and I don't know what compelled me to begin talking... he knew about what had happened before but we didn't talk much about it, we only talked around the edges when I had a crisis and needed someone to talk about it with... I told him about the differences in my behavor to a "normal" kid's, the things that were probably changed because of what had happened... I said, "those things are not normal" before I used to think I was somehow warped or weird... but I didn't realize those actions were the begining of my "dirt" of those stains I would notice later in life and then looking at the reflection of the street light over the car I numbered them... one by one...
I was six when I begun playing with barbies and a Power Ranger doll about sex... at the begining it was just placing one over the other and pretend they were having sex... then it changed, I remember watching a couple movies on the television my older brother was watching(he didn't notice I was awake and we all shared the same bedroom with a small tv) and I don't really remember when my games changed to rape, the doll would rape barbie and she would usually be a really stupid girl who was caught because of her stupidity (this I don't remember happening in those movies I saw) then it changed so sometimes in my games the girl would be saved from her rapist by a handsome man (played by the same PR doll) and they would fall in love and get married in the end. My games would pretty much be the same and I remember playing with barbies and the doll until I was 13 or something like that... the way of playing didn't change much during those years except it got a little more story and more details like positions and words I was fond of reading so I got my hands on fancy words and definitions... I do remember I would usually peeing while playing and at the begining it didn't bother me, it wasn't until I hit 13 that those games begun to feel... unappropied for a young girl.
I also remember playing with those baby dolls very much alike kids with chubby faces, bodies and arms... I would usually play like they were poor orphans who were kidnapped by strangers who would mistreat them in many ways, one was that they never wore shoes or socks I would take them away feeling like I was one of the strangers mistreating her, I remember having a thought in my mind like... she didn't deserve that much, she didn't deserve wearing socks or shoes.
Everytime I played those games it would be at night with everyone asleep, I would hide myself under the covers and do as little noise as posible, also I would turn every stuffed animal around as if trying to hide myself from them also, as if they could see what I did and they could be insulted by it.
My grandmother mentioned I used to be a pretty happy girl, trusting of everyone around me, very smiley and cheerful, kindda goofy yet confident but before I turned 8 I begun changing soon she would write me a letter telling me I was different that I no longer smiled like I used to, that my eyes looked sad and I was always away from people, I no longer trusted them... I no longer wanted to be with people around, soon I would realized I no longer liked others entering my paren'ts house, I would often prepare things for their reunions and leave without been noticed using a back door so I could climb a stair in the back of the house to enter my bedroom without been spotted by those coming to see my parents... I would no longer like parties and such because it was too many people, I turned again to the games I used to play like... from time to time I would need to "blow off steam" or something like that cause I would feel sick and stressed like too irritable so I would play something and then feel better, when my older brother begun reading porn his friends lent him I stole the magazine and read through it looking at the picture of girls imagining stories about them, always stupid girls caught in a dire situation... then it was reading stories or inventing them and writting them so I would read them later, I didn't know how to masturbate so I would simply do what felt natural like rubbing myself against differnt textures, it would usually work with my reading.
I guess I protected my drawings from all this cause I never ever draw anything like that EVER... it disgusted me to no end, like I was poisoning something pure and divine, something meant for a greater purpose... I felt already poisoned and corrupted so even if I felt guilty of something I knew from my parents teaching I shouldn't be doing I continued to do it as long as it didn't affect my drawing abilities or the drawings themselves.
My parents would get us many children movies and I would enjoy them, somehow those took me away in a different world were women were perfect and beautiful, yet I would mostly prefare horror movies, I wouldn't dream about them or be afraid at night about them, I knew they were unreal yet I was often afraid in my sleep having night terrors, waking up in the middle of the night feeling a hand running against my legs, I would usually sleep on a position and place so I could look directly at the window and door, often I thought this was because if anyone tried to break in and steal or hurt my family I would know and do something... yet I was usually afraid when I woke up and looked frantically at the door and window, even after looking at it for long I wouldn't calm down until I prayed or something, it wasn't ghosts chacing me, gouls or witches, monsters or strange creatures... no, it was a man... always a man, maybe 2 but I was sure it was a man, a little taller than me and seemingly harmless yet I knew he would hurt me if I gave him the chance.
I wouldn't feel safe and secure in my own bed, I wouldn't feel safe and secure sleeping with someone else, other people's touch would often burn or creep... I would feel strangely safe in a sofa cuddling it wrapped in a tight ball, it was better if I could spend the night in a relatively small place, alone with a door closed, locked and some light, I would usually hide myself in the bathroom waiting for sleep to come back and this time be somewhat peaceful.
As I learned more words I started liking to repeat or use certain words, curses and bad words were one and then certain words, filth, dirt, stain, useless, corrupted, hidious, worthless, grotesque... any word that pronounced would sound or give the idea of something rude and deformed
A repetive line of thought would be death, gore and destruction... usually my mind would wonder around those words... what they meant, what they did... how it would be or feel, I felt I had a higher understanding of them because I thought about them a lot, I would talk about facts or ideas I had with class mates who would freak out and get away from me, I would also talk about them with teachers and tutors... they would usually frown and dismiss the issue yet I felt it was important to talk about it, like it defined me to know those words and what they meant to the world and myself.
I for a long period of time thought people met and got married, after I heard the word "boyfriend" at a young age (9) I kind of liked the idea but after hearing of a couple of people I begun having thinking I wouldn't like having one so much, like... I would enjoy it if we were just friends and then marry, I took it like it was nothing and even the idea of being "serious" about someone felt stupid and useless... I remember thinking it was just trouble and I wanted to have friends more than trouble, because my friends already brough me some I figured it was better not to get some more.
Kids didn't like me, in Guatemala they would bully me and I would be constantly depressed... I had only 1 girl friend back then and she would be the best one I had, maybe the best one I have ever had since she stood by me through hell and back in those difficult times. I would usually wonder, why didn't they like me? I thought I was no differen than them... why would they want me to go away? die or something? I would usually cry, a lot.
By the time I entered high school I was changed, I cried a lot less... actually I would never cried again at school in my life and I got a lot more agressive, I would fight and curse, draw a lot more in class and payed less attention to my teachers, often I would get along with boys more than girls, it was literally that I wanted to be "one of the boys" I guess I still like to be like that... tomboyish and all that... I wanted to be one of them because I didn't feel part of the girls, I didn't talk about boys or fashion or the tv shoes they watched... I wanted to talk about cars, martial arts and anime, maybe make fun of people or do stupid things boys did... I no longer liked been a girl, even if I did liked 1 or 2 guys during my high school years I was never able to fit in with the rest of the girls...
I didn't move around a lot, things were usually school and home, go to school go back home, go to school, go back home... so I didn't have to fight walking in the middle of crowds, it wasn't until I became 14 that I started traveling by bus and things got... unhealthy, then I started panicking over nothing, maybe someone looked at me the wrong way, maybe it was crowded and I was too pressed up against others, or someone passed by rubbing my back... I would feel sick, nauseous, sofocated, I would have to search for a window or get out of the bus before it got worst... walking I would usually feel alert and would move from one place to another without looking at much directly, I wanted to be unnoticed by everyone, then walking with someone else I would often space out, loose my footing and feel somewhat unnerved, it was difficult because I begun feeling like everything bad happened whenever I was with someoen else, like I attracted bad luck for everyone around me.
With my father we used to play tickles and such, sometimes he would bite me, not hard but enough to startle me, I would bite back... it was fun but my mother didn't like it, somehow at this age I begun feeling something wasn't right, maybe because of what my mother said... yet I felt my father was doing something bad, something that shouldn't... something that I didn't like yet I liked playing with him, then the word rape would pop in my head out of nowhere and I would feel sick. We stopped playing that way soon...
My social skills lacked everywhere... I would be more than shy but over asertive and usually get in trouble with the way I said things, sometimes to strongly and others too weak, teachers often spoke of me as insolent and agressive... when I felt always attacked and afraid, I would aproach others with a sense of panick... like talking to another person was the plague itself... talking to them would get me sick or something.
Even now at age 15 I would usually talk to my stuffed animals, a couple of them a tiger and a jaguar were my confidents, whenever I felt bad I would cry over them like my tears would explain everything, sometimes I would hide in the bathroom with one of them and tell them what I felt, what had happened to make me feel that way and often asked them if they thought I was bad or evil, I would ask them if they liked me, if they were happy with me, by the time I was 13 I had lost all contact with my 1 and only friend of my past school and was now alone in my new schools... stuffed animals were all I had.
My mother onced told me the way I standed showed pride like I felt above her and all my family because I would usually cross my arms and look directly at her... she's a psychologist so I considered for long what she said but I couldn't help thinking she was wrong, how could I be proud if I had such low selfsteem? how could I feel above them if I was afraid of them? I usually hugged my self crossing my arms as a way to cover myself from whatever they could do or say... I didn't notice this until she said what she did... and I couldn't help focusing on understanding it and thinking how my mother would think I was proud like that... not to mention I thought then, pride must be an awful thing to feel.
I was so easily influenced by my mother... her words would usually bring to me the ground and even under... my love for her was destructive to say the least.
I tried to commit suicide 2 times when I was 13, 1 when I was 14, 2 times when I was 15 and once when I was 17... I would take lots of different pills and I developed a likeness to Diasepan, a drug my mother would use to calm herself since she suffered from high pressure... for me it was a way of flying away from were I was... soon this turn into self injury, I would cut my hands, then I started cutting my left arm, then my right arm, lightly then deeper... after I turned 18 a friend of mine found out and he started talking to me, helping me during crisis and trying to push me into looking for profesional help... she managed to convince me and after a few sessions and the insistence of my therapist I went for a check up and discovered I wasn't a virgin... suddenly it all made sense and soon enough I was reading books about it, learning how things in my past were more than "warped" but "corrupted beyond salvation" I would never be who I was supposed to be.
A few months later while looking at the reflection of the street light over my dear friend's car I told him about the chubby dolls and started crying, he half hugged since it was as much as I would allow and I cried in his arms for a while... feeling sorry for myself, feeling sorry for my younger self and feeling the weight of more than 10 years falling over me at once...
I no longer feel the weight or guilt... but I still feel sorry for myself and sorry for my younger self... that seven years old kid who was destroyed, corrupted... harmed... I wished I could go back in time and protect her, I wish I could see her and tell her to forgive me for being unable to help her... I just wished an "I'm sorry" could fix it all... I miss the girl I was supposed to be but will never be... I wish I could go back in time, find that guy and destroy him, hurt him, make him wish for death then leave... let him live with the memory of the pain he felt... make sure he would never do the same thing he did to me to someone else, make sure I was free from his grasp.
So many things changed... so many details I forgot to write because I wanted or just because, so many things that shouldn't have been there but they were.