There is still plenty of time and spaces if you'd like to sign up for the Guest Speaker Chat scheduled for this Saturday!
Welcome to Pandora's Aquarium, a rape, sexual assault, and sexual abuse survivor message board and chat room.
If you've been a victim of any type of sexual violence, you belong here. What you see below represents just a fraction of the resources and survivor support available. Register now to join our community and take full advantage of what this online support group has to offer you as you heal and recover, or sign in to remove this message.
You are not alone, we can support you as you heal, and you've made an important step toward recovery by reaching out. If you are unable to register or have any questions, please contact the staff or view our home page.
I would love to believe that, but since the past is so far away, I have no reason to believe she's saying that just because she would have or because it's the thing to say.
Next month, at the Winnipeg International Film Festival, there's a film about sexual predators and they reveal why they do what they do. I want to find out what makes a person want to do something so horrible and justify it to themselves in order for it. Sometimes I sit on the bus and think about who's on there. Is it someone who's molested or raped or both? Is it someone who was molested by the same person I was? It's like a have this violation cancer on my brain and it's not growning but staying the same.
I also realize that throughout my life, I've perceived myself as a victim without being to conscious of it and wonder if I hadn't been violated if I'd still perceive myself the same way? How might I have turned out if it didn't happen or if I'd reacted differently? I wish I were a different person. Sometimes it's what life throws at you and I don't catch things the way I should.
I hate that word: Should.
2 Comments On This Entry
Recent Entries
My Blog Links
My Favourite Links!
Recent Comments
1 user(s) viewing
0 member(s)
0 anonymous member(s)
Help









I was 5 when he stripped me to punish me for playing with matches.
He stared at me for a long, long time.
Then I became invisible.
I flew above the trees in the backyard and lived in my head
I became so strong.
And so vulnerable at the same time.
He never paid attention to me again but did really weird things to my sister in the bedroom we shared.
I thought he loved her more because he did more things to her than to me.
He made me what I am today:
I want so badly, for people to hold my pain.
But then I reveal too much and I feel shame.
Shame it is an ugly thing.
I hate it.
Maybe I should hate him.
Keep moving. Debra-Lynn
Great poem.
Hope you're alright.