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About Aris

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    Crusading Advocate
  • Birthday 03/11/1990

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  1. Dear God, Sometimes I blame you. I know you’ve heard me, raving in the middle of the night, cursing you. Never once have you wagged that indignant finger at me. You’ve let me cry my tears and scream my furies into the silent, listening darkness of my room because you know that sometimes, I’ll blame you. Most times, though, I thank you, as I do now. Thank you, God, for giving me herpes. Your design is so often veiled from me or, perhaps, it is me who is blind. In this one instance, though, I see all that I must and the vision is amazingly clear. I have overcome herpes. I am overcoming rape. These two, entwined so viciously together, could have haunted me, shadowed behind my every step, caused me to stumble till I fell and broke. I have stumbled, God, and you held out a guiding hand. You did not pick me up or catch me before the fall. You let me hit the ground, let my knees feel the bruise, and held out the hand that I had to decide to take. I did not break. Instead, the falls made my knees hard. Perseverance scabbed them over. Now, I do not fear the fall. Ghosts from my past or even the living reminder, like my herpes, may still trip me down my path. But there your hand always is, waiting, encouraging me to push forward. I stare down my path unafraid, God. The road will not be a soft one but at such a young age you have taught me this. I can live my life now with my hand in yours and my chin ejected firmly because I do not care if I fall or what I fall upon. Thank you, God, for the struggle. Thank you, God, for pain. Thank you, God, for herpes. I have been introduced to a fearless, adventurous, exultant way of life and, God, I blame you. Sincerely, Aris
  2. He never actually hurt me. I think I was just there and he wanted something warm and female beside him. So he came to my bed at nights and tested how far he could go before I told. I never told and he went as far as he could go. It was my fault, I bear a little of the blame. He should not have come to an 11 year old girl's bed and touched her in places she had even never touched herself. He should not have rolled on top of me. He should not have pushed my head between his legs. I do recall, though, the sense of being used and one time I asked him to kiss me. I thought to myself, and I remember this clearly, that if I was going lose my virginity to this man then the least he could do was kiss me. It was a horrible kiss lacking everything but lust but I accepted it because that's the way it should have been. I should have laid in a bed with some dear boy I though interesting or enticing and I should have pulled down my own panties. I should have listened to him ask me if I was sure and felt my head nod yes. I should have watched the uncertainty in my eyes reflect in his and he should have kissed me because he liked me and because he knew I was giving him something I couldn't take back. There would be no return for store credit or cash to obtain afterward. He would understand that this was all I had to give and he would appreciate it in some sense. He would appreciate it the way only a 16 or 18 or 20 year old boy could but he would try. I don't know when I would have lost my virginity if I was given the choice. It's taken me a really long time to put this in words and stamp them across a page. I'm convinced I couldn't do it. I couldn't make pretty poems or simple stories that would encompass the past 7 years of bile that has been rising in my throat. The page was never wide enough, never sturdy enough, to bear my words. So I vomit it up, quickly, in short spurts, to be flushed away later. I vomit the tears I should cry and can't. I vomit the pain I should have felt and won't. I vomit the my mother's dejection, my family's pain, my own self worth. I vomit it here. That's enough for today. Another day to regurgitate more.
  3. What came first, rape or sex? Was the first society good to their women and children? History books tell us that they were not. And if they were not then how can one assume they dealt well with their women in bed? I believe that people were raping each other before they were making love. War before peace, haha. Isn't that just the way of the world. I think, when people think of rape they thing of current rape. The rape of the 21st century. People forget that we aren't fighting against the crimes of today, we're fighting against the crimes of forever. We're supposed to be advocating not only for our rapes but for the rapes of our great-grandmothers and our great-grandchildren. You understand me? Rape didn't just begin, it was always here and, sadly, it will always be here. Survivors of rape are up against something much bigger than themselves. I think that's why, even coming to a site like this, many can't deal with it. It is one thing to post a retelling of a rape. It is another thing entirely to discuss it, understand it, fight against it. I don't see it too often. I don't feel like saying anymore. Maybe another time.
  4. Well, I am basing this on the Chat. Room. Not the Blogs. Not the forums. If I wanted to just sit about and read rape stories I know plenty of places to go. I'm not going around on this site simply to read rape stories and pay my condolences. No, I wanted an interactive chat. And yes, there are two rooms. I don't think that discussing violence is something that should go in the 'Healing Room'. Why? Because I'm not healing. I'm talking. I'm discussing. I'm debating. If I were to take that in the healing room they would tell me to change the subject...Yet again. And my experience in chat is that everybody is oh so willing to listen to you as long as you don't really say what's bothering you. How many times have a been in that room where someone says they're having a bad day but they don't want to talk about. Not because it won't make them feel better to have someone to talk to, but because they fear everyone reading it may not be able to handle it. As cute as that is, I don't really call that support. No, no one is willing to discuss anything. I have discussed rape in general more blatantly in a class room with strangers and it was more helpful and educating than this chat.
  5. I've decided that the 'healing nature' of this chat room is pretty much one of coddling. Don't say this, don't say that. Um, this is supposed to be a sexual abuse support site. When since has sexual abuse ever been a discussion of rose petals and soft kisses? Sexual abuse is a complex thing and I expected when I came to this site that people would know that. Instead, there's a room full of people who want to talk about anything BUT sexual abuse. Really? Is this how we're going to handle it? Yes, let us handle this the way society handles this. Let's push it into a corner, dust it under a rug and hope not to trip over it later. Let's not talk about rape or child molestation or any other reason why we are all gathered here today. I bet that's what they do in AA meetings, talk about anything BUT alcohol. Right. That's a plan. What kind of cowardice is this? This is why I refuse to do group meetings about sexual abuse because god forbid the people there act like this chat room. Why are you here? No, really, why the hell are you here? Are you bored, because that's the only reason I come anymore. Don't tell me people here are sensitive. People here have been through some ragged horrors and they're still here so they're not weak. They just act like it. I feel better now. If you're reading this and you're offended, sorry. *Shrug* You weren't forced to read this. But it made me feel better and that, of course, is key. Aris