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About blackpersephone

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    CSA Survivor
  • Birthday January 24

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  • Location
    South East US
  • Interests
    Yoga, Outdoors, Arts, Knitting
  1. Wiping the Mud from My Eyes

    I have had one hell of a year. I chose the name persephone a couple years ago. I had no idea just how appropriate it would be for me to take on that name. As the Spring comes around, I am returning to the Earth from Hell. It's clear to me what happened... What's not clear is how others perceive me. On the note of Persephone, I am an avid meditator. Last week I was in meditating and saw myself returning from Hell. I thought, where does Persephone return but to her weeping father who is overjoyed by her return and all the flowers return. About a month ago I finally told my Father about what happened to me from age 16-18. I was raped repeatedly by my brother in law. I am now 33 years old. He was devastated. I was relieved. All those years I held it to myself because I genuinely just thought I was a terrible person for doing something so horrendous to my sister. I hadn't considered that I was actually too young to make a decision to be in any kind of relationship, much less such an abusive one. So I held it until one night I told my husband-- he said "you were raped!" I knew it all along. My youth had been stollen from me and I was hypnotically drugged and pulled into hell. I remained there for 17 years. I had actually left Hell years ago... When I was 18 I had to abort a child from the abusive sex. I hardly had a shoulder to cry on so I just didn't. I could tell a soul because he had trained me not to open my mouth, not to scream and it would all be over in a minute. I was chained to him. He was the devil. So when I was 18 I went to NY and traveled all around New England seeing friends. I saw people my age making something with their lives. I was thrilled to start mine. So when I returned to Hell, he picked me up from the terminal. I told him I wasn't ever coming back to him. He was sad. But he didn't leave. No, instead he acquainted himself into my life by befriending the man with whom I feel in love. But I still kept the devil's secrets. He even attended my wedding. I can't even look at them... So when I finally returned to college after years of putting it off due to depression, I was taking the hardest class of my life. It triggered me into the realization that what happened to me was rape. I hadn't seen him for many years, at least, not in person. He was often haunted my dreams. I walked around in a constant state of anxiety. I didn't want to go back to Hell!!! But my head was already there. So I did what I knew how to do to deal, I rug swept. Then I met M. He was a charming man. When I found myself in his arms I felt the click of the chains all over again. As soon as he laid his lips on his desire, I froze. I had fought all these years, but had not realized I would crumble in the moment the fight really counts. So although I told him I didn't want this, although my heart was breaking the moment he touched me, I complied. Frozen-- I there I was all over again-- don't open my mouth, don't scream and it would all be over in a minute. When he approached me again, I crumbled. I froze as he pushed me in the corner. I told him I didn't want to have sex with him. I gave in just as I had to the devil before. I even sent him messages, met with him, and ultimately gave in to sex with him. I can't even remember how I really got to his room again. But there I was in this surreal place lying there and hoping it would all be over in just a minute. I left crying that night. I am married and love my husband and my beautiful daughter. I did it again. Maybe I was really was just a bad person. I burned my clothes, told my husband and cried everyday since May 19, 2012. My dear husband hates me now and has left me for a brighter future in the light, fore I was bound to return to Hell. Now, I realize, I never left Hell.... Then I did. That very morning on the porch with 5 strangers practicing buddhist zen meditation at the dawn of Spring. I sat there for 80 long minutes with the chirping of the birds, the warm mist in the air, and my thoughts. The vision was overwhelming. I saw myself there in the chains as a slave to the Devil. This time, I could see his face clearly. He held me for years, even making me believe I was free. I wasn't. But the truth was that the chains weren't locked. So I slipped them off and dug my way out, removing the mud from my eyes as I lifted myself out of Hell. I turned and saw my sister also removing the mud from her eyes. When I saw the light in front of me it all made sense. I returned to my father. It's time to let go of hell and close the gate to never return. So, like divine intervention, I looked up the statute of limitation in the state of my rape. This is none. So I called the police, started the investigation. The investigator has an excellent record of 99% success rate. He says it will be hard, but he will do everything he can to take this man to jail. Time will tell the outcome. For now, I do not take my faith so lightly anymore. I still haven't committed to turning in M. He was certainly a lost soul, and there is doubt it was coercive rape. But, getting proof of something like that is more painful than productive. But I have the opportunity for an authoritative figure to have a talk with him to let him know that his advances were coercive and unwelcome. I am sure that his karma will come around in this life or the next. Meanwhile, I still hold hope for my husband and I. It's silly, probably. For him, it was an affair and a deal-breaker. He may always see me the same way that I see my devil. For that I have to let go. I do hope that as I heal myself, my wounds, and live a life in the light that he too will see me pure and clear of my sins (to miss the mark). I especially mourn for my daughter who has suffered greatly from our parting. But I do celebrate that her mother finally found her voice. I wish the cost had not been so high. But by this, I hope that she will have the strength and courage to stand for the things I had not. To life in the light!! :tearsofjoy:/> Source: Wiping the Mud from My Eyes
  2. I've come to the realization recently that there is not single truth when it comes to matters of the heart. Many of us have perceptions of the truth as we know it to be. If you ask a dozen people about what they saw on a particular day, they will litter it with perspective and personal experience. When I was working on my graduate degree I had to actually learn how to write from an unbiased perspective. It was very difficult. In doing so, I had to actually include accounts from both the opposing and supportive perspectives. My degree is in social sciences so it's exceptionally hard to write an absolute truth when there are several different perspectives. You do the best you can, with the evidence you have and state your perspective position. I was recently raped-- a second time. Never thought it would happen again as I thought I was stronger than that.I assumed that after years of therapy, finally admitting that what happened with my brother-in-law in a drug induced sexual encounter was actually coercive sexual abuse, and going on antidepressants that I was finally ok. Unfortunately, sweeping the truth under the rug prematurely not only didn't take it away, but it also made me a prisoner to my own thoughts. Turns out that post traumatic stress disorder is real and a very serious matter to a survivor of rape. Because I spent years not talking about it, suddenly when the flood gates opened, it was like the trauma happened yesterday. Even my sleep wasn't safe. There was a dark figure who haunted me nightly to the point that I wondered if there was a ghost in my bedroom. One night I woke up screaming because I saw the dark figure sitting on my chest. It wasn't just a dream-- I was awake and what I felt was very real. Then it happened-- again. This time I wasn't a 16 year old girl but a 32 year old woman. The stories are essentially identical. I was smitten by a man of power and prestige. I was in a place of loneliness and discomfort. And there he was, a man willing to listen, tell my I am beautiful, and give me his attention. I took it. I let him into my precious realm. I always thought of myself as strong, independent, and a feminist. But for some reason, when he kissed me I froze. In each situation it was wrong, inherently in my being, it was wrong. Did I say no? I don't know. For 3 years of my life I lived in dissociation. It's so wonder that I didn't end up with dissociative personality disorder. I guess I am fortunate.
  3. Making Progress? Or set back?

    I went to the Student Conduct office appointment today and inquired about the process and my rights. They didn't make me make a statement today as I told them I haven't totally made my decision to proceed and healing is my first priority. With my consent, they can approach M and show him my statement. He is allowed to make a statement as well and present any evidence to his side. We would go before a committee of 5 which includes students, faculty and staff members. They would ask M and me questions. I have the option of being there in the room or not. I can call in or we can do a partition if I don't want to see him. The lady in the SCO was very helpful. She told me all the things that the university does to protect the victims in this process and I was so grateful. She also told me that in the university environment, when its a he said, she said situation, they tend to lean toward the statement of the victim. There are several options for disciplinary action should they determine that what happened was rape and the degree varies with the degree of perpetration. They even allow the victim to have a say in the punishment which is most likely suspension or dismissal from campus. At the very least, he will be told to leave me completely alone and cease all forms of communication. Now my decision lies in what will be best for me... Is it time to fight this one? Do I have the strength? I'm taking some quite time to figure that out right now. Although part of me wanted to give my statement right then and there, I've classically made way too many decisions too quickly and regretted them. I want to be sure that this is what I want, need, and have to courage to do for myself and not because I was thrusted into it by someone else. Source: "Grey area" rape
  4. Sounds like the timing may be bad. Let him go now and get the space. Time will tell you if you miss him. If not, he was just a strong friend at an important time in your life.
  5. Hi b, Sounds like you aren't JUST fighting a business battle. This really is personal. If she is going to represent herself in this kind of case, you have a great chance of winning. She sounds incredibly arrogant to think she can do a lawyer's job. I'm not clear on what the case is about... Do they owe you money? Is it that she is trying to buy her end out?
  6. Get your rest now. You need it.
  7. Dad, I Was Raped...

    :trigger:/> My mother and father came to visit me this weekend. In the midst of my oncoming divorce and since my daughter was with her father this weekend, my parents didn't want me to spend my birthday weekend alone. It was a fine weekend, with dinner downtown, early night cocktails on Saturday and brunch at the bakery on Sunday morning. When I woke up Sunday, I decided its time. Here we all are in a house alone, my daughter is away and I have nothing but quality time with my parents. I n October, I had confided part of my story to my mother. I had been waiting for months to confess to my father so that my mother wouldn't bare the burden alone. I waited until after our lovely brunch. Didn't want to spoil our appetite when there are German baked goods involved. Besides, its Sunday morning -- and everything is slower on Sundays, right? We sat down in my living room just after they had packed their suitcases to return home. "Dad, you may want to sit down.... I have something to tell you.... Oh. God (sobbing) this is harder than I thought...." "Dad, when I was 16 years old, I went to a concert and took some drugs. That night I was raped... by Michael." He paused, stunned. His eyes grew wide and red. "He is a bad man." "Yes, he is." I said."Dad, it's worse... It went on a while. He did it several times. There is a block of years that I don't remember because I dissociated during that time. I couldn't figure out how to tell you. I felt ashamed." "You were 16 you were a victim! I wish you would have told me. I would have put him in jail!!!" He said. "I don't want that man anywhere near my family." "Mom, Dad, its even worse. I got pregnant. I had to have an abortion." I sobbed more. Their hearts melted. My mothers face was flushed. She knew some of it, But she had no idea just how bad it really was. My father was heart broken and I could see him hold his tears back from the pain of not being able to protect me. I've seen this look before, not on my father but on my husband who recently had the same hands tied behind his back reaction to my recent assault. I felt a moment of relief for having it off my chest. But that was quickly followed by anguish for not exposing Michael when I was younger. How different would my life have been? Would I have seen him go to jail? Would I have protected my sister from his cruelty much earlier? Could I have avoided further trauma later? I was further afflicted that I would never know the answers to these questions. "Persephone, you did what any person in your shoes would have done, you protected yourself!" my father reassured me. "I have no use for that man! I know it won't change what happened to you but do know you are stronger than you know. You are stronger than I knew. You held this all these years. You still got your education, your BS, and MS. and look at you now. You survived! That is amazing! Now you don't have to carry this alone anymore." It was exactly the words I needed to hear from a man in my life. Finally, I could lay my burden down. I'm one step closer to extinguishing the hell that has been in my soul.
  8. A Letter to My Perpetrator

    M, I want you to know that what you did to me was unacceptable. You spent. Long time grooming me by pretending to be my friend, my brother, even my lover. You acted as if I could trust you and that you would never hurt me. Nothing could have been farther from the truth. You isolated me from my family telling me that they could never know. You gave me drugs to muddy my vision so I would continue to fall. You took so much that was precious to me that you could never return all for your perverted, selfish, unapologetic entertainment. I kept my mouth shut because I was afraid, alone and confused. You are poison to my soul but somehow I survived. It took me almost 15 years to realize not only was what you did wrong but even illegal. You are a pedophile. You are a rapist. You are a molester. I loath the mention of your name. Your sexual appetite makes me want to vomit. You are a sick, disturbed perpetrator with serial destructive behavior. A few years ago I heard you almost died. I hoped you would. But then I realized that that would still not take away the damage you did to me. You broke my heart, my spirit, and my soul. I am still struggling to recover from all the poison you injected. Therefore, I hope you live a long and unhappy life knowing for the rest of your days what disgusting, vile human being you have been. I hope you never consider seeing me in a positive light again as this letter is kind in comparison to what I would say to you in person. I strongly suggest you stop spending so much time accepting that you are a narcissist with a smile and immediately seek psychotherapeutic help. As far as I am concerned you should rot in jail though it is unlikely I would be so lucky as to see you go there. If I ever find out you did this to someone else, I will be sure to contact the authorities. Stay away from me, my family (including my mother, father, and sister). You especially owe my sister an apology for the vile and abusive husband you were to her. I hope in your next life you are viciously raped but not left for dead. Then maybe you will know how I feel about you. Sincerely, Persephone
  9. The Art of Suffering

    In the past few years I finally accepted that I was sexually abused as a young adult by my brother-in-law, was assaulted several times by an acquaintance, and lost the love of my life to divorce. What I've come to realize it that all that suffering was a divine gift. Let me explain. I certainly didn't want to be continuously raped and molested by my brother-in-law. I didn't really enjoy being pushed down on a bed and assaulted by my so-called "friend." I certainly never expected that the man I loved would leave me at the time I needed him the most-- after a second assault. None of those things felt at all like gifts. I went through a tremendous amount of suffering for all these events. Though I wouldn't say that I would not change them given the chance in a time machine, but unfortunately the "hour glass is glued to the table." So instead I am forced to either live in misery or accept that my life was not the beautiful, picture perfect romance I had seen on all those damn romantic comedies. When the divorce began, everyone told me that its like a death and you will go through the stages of grief. What I really wanted to do was escape! But that didn't work the first time when I lied to myself for 10+ years about the first abuse. Suddenly it was like everyone was saying the same thing to me, "the only way out is through it." It was just so damn painful. But you really get your mind set to heal, you have to take some really honest looks at yourself. I found out quickly that I was petrified by what I would find. Still I was dedicated that this pain would never happen to me again. So I started counseling, alternative therapies like color therapy and a strong meditation practice. Still, there were several days I just couldn't get out of bed. I would nap. I would cry. I would beg God to please have mercy on me! On one of my off days I went to a used book store and found a book called "Surviving the Loss of a Love." It was so appropriate for me. Its a book of bullet points, suggestions an poetry. I read it all in one night. In time, I realized not only was the death of my marriage a type of grief but also the death of the old, injured me. If I am truly to heal, then these 5 stages would be the loss of something very precious to me-- my old life. But you just can't hold on forever. The only guaranteed thing in life that will remain constant is change. So, change it is. These stages are not necessarily in order. I put them this way and treat them in a linear fashion for easier reading purposes. Believe me, I went between all of them back and forth, over and over. Here is what I've learned: Denial This one is paramount and can last a very long time. When something bad happens, no one wants to believe it. There is only so much that any human being can handle at one time. Its a survival skill really. When your heart is broken, its a physical pain that can materialize. Its completely overwhelming. So, to keep from hurting, our minds just go numb. I found this to be true in my divorce when I kept thinking he would change his mind and come home. He didn't. Long before that, I was in complete denial about having experienced sexual abuse. I told myself for years that I was just involved in a romantic relationship with an older man. It wasn't until my husband told me about 10 years after I left it that it was actually sexual abuse. I didn't accept it at all!!! Although I agreed to start seeing a councilor, I didn't talk about the trauma for most of the experience. I hated it. I didn't want to think something so icky could have happen to me. In fact, I realize now that I actually can't even remember about 3 years of my life from age 15 to 18 years old. I had gotten so accustomed to blocking it out and living in a dissociative state that had no idea what happened hurt me so deeply. Even with my last trauma, at first I thought, "he was my friend, I must have wanted it." I believed him when he would say things like, "I'm so sorry, you are just so pretty!" I wanted to hear that so badly that I forgot what it meant to my self worth. I denied for a long time that he assaulted me. Probably because I felt guilt a) because I was married and b) because I didn't want to have to accept that I once again had opened myself into victimhood. Anger Anger is an essential emotion when used productively. Anger is really about pain. It gives you the strength that you need so don't deny it. Remember though, anger is one letter away from danger. Be sure you direct it in the proper place. I was livid at Michael when I finally grasped the impact that the abuse had on my life. Although I had not shared my history with anyone, the implications were eating away at me. I lived in a consistent state of anger, depression and anxiety and had no idea why. I would snap at the drop at just about anything my husband would say just so I could get my voice loud and clear. I needed to be heard. Not surprising really. I stayed quiet for so long... So one day, I finally wrote a letter to him. Years earlier, Michael almost died in a motorcycle accident. I was glad he was in a coma. But I realized that something in me still did not feel the same. Even if he died, I still had to live with the shame. So in my letter, among many other things I told him I hope he lives. I hoped he would live a long, unhappy life knowing for the rest of his days what a disgusting, vile human being he is and as far as I was concerned, he should be in jail!!! No, I didn't send it... not yet, at least. That will be later once I've done some other things first. Then I got really mad at my so-called-friend Mike. He had put me in a horrible situation and would not leave me alone despite my frequent requests. He had weaseled his way into my life, assaulted me and treated me as if I was the one who wanted it. So, after sitting with it a very long 7 months, I was given the opportunity to face him in the university setting. It would be difficult to take him to criminal court given the nature of the relationship and the assault, so I decided to go another route with the university student conduct. I was tired of the shame I felt for him forcing himself on me. So I spoke up. I'm a glad I did. I'm also angry at my husband for leaving me while I face this current trauma. He say's he just can't-- ok then. But he can't seem to disengage fighting with me. I've come to a point I no longer argue with him. Its useless. I was burning up fuel and never getting my point across. So now I just write him letters in my journal that I have no intentions of ever sending him. Its therapeutic and also reserves my energy for where I really need to put my concentration right now. Bargaining We've all done this one. It starts with "Please God, If only I..." Those seemingly unheard prayers you say just so you can get through the day. "If only I had..." was the start of most of my sentences in the healing process. When I told my lawyer that "I couldn't believe I didn't do something sooner," when talking about the nonconcentual sexual harassment and assault,he told me "that is really easy to say when you are in a safe environment and there is no threat." He couldn't have been more correct. There are several times I "should have" told my parents what was happening to me. But I had been so groomed and brainwashed that I had no idea what to say or how they would feel. What's worse was that there were often drugs involved which I certainly didn't want to reveal AND I even had to have an abortion due to the abuse. So maybe I "could have" told my parents, but there was no guarantee in my mind at that time that anyone COULD HAVE protected me. I was way to busy trying to survive at that time. Maybe I "should have" not taken my friend home from the bar. But does that now give him the right to rape me? Maybe I "should have" told someone earlier that I was confused about what he was doing or been more forward when telling him I was not interested in him. The fact is you will never know. And in the moment we do what we know. If we regret it, then we learn. Really what we are doing is bargaining with the pain to make it go away. But it won't, and you can't. So you just end up stuck in the past which was pain enough the first go around. Depression I know depression more than I ever realized. In high school, I was constantly depressed. I was an attractive young girl but I never even went to my prom because I would hide myself due to the abuse. Michael would isolate me even from the sweet dating days. I missed as much school as I could without failing out. In fact, they couldn't fail me because I was still making good grades! I dressed in all black and wore clothing I knew would make me unattractive so boys would not look at me. After my recent assault, I went completely in the dark place. I isolated myself from my friends and family and spent months in a crying spell. I lost about 20 pounds that I didn't have to lose because I couldn't even force myself to eat. I had to tell myself to take a shower and I stopped caring about how I looked. I can only imagine how much older I looked. When my husband left just before the holidays, I spend a couple weeks in bed... kind of sleeping but not really. I would wait for the hours to pass so that I could get back into bed. I would take naps during the day because I was too overwhelmed even just paying my bills. My whole body hurt. I cried nonstop to all my best friends- and then I slept. But it wasn't so bad in hind sight. I remember reading in the "Surviving the Loss of Love" a line that said "rest now- you need it." There certainly is an honor in admitting you need the rest. People too often rush this part of the process because you have to "get back in the game." I was relieved when I read that line. It was like I was finally given permission to do exactly what my body was asking me to do. So I did just that- rest. When I felt energy, I used it. When I felt tired, I rested. I'm so glad that I honored that part of myself. Acceptance This is the place I never thought I would get-- Acceptance. I was almost offended while in the anger and denial stage when people told me that it would "get better with time." Actually, that's bullshit. Time does not heal-- its what you do with that time that makes you heal. I spent a lot of time working through my issues with my therapist, journaling, painting, talking with friends, meditating, and in color therapy. I had regressions, breakdowns, and cathartic cries on my knees in the rain begging God to please have mercy. Then one day, it happened-- I didn't cry. I made the decision that day to accept whatever had happened to me. I can't change the past. Its done. Fortunately, I am still alive, healthy, and learning everyday to love myself. In some ways I've even gained a gratitude for my experiences in that I'm stronger than I ever imagined I could be. But strength wasn't the denial that I had once used as a shield. Strength now was the acceptance that I too bleed. I too am weak. I too am human-- just like you. Each day is a new gift. I try to find gratitude in something everyday. My mother gave me a prayer on a card. I'm not particularly religious at all, but in times of crisis its often important to find meaning. Here it is: (you probably know this one) God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, The courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference. Moving Forward It was by no means an easy journey and each day is a journey through any and all of the stages. But the pain faded. The memories are less intrusive and I am no longer a victim of my thoughts or other people's expectations. This is my daily journey. By truly honoring all these stages, I am rapidly (in hind sight terms only) on the path to renewal. Being in the pandora's aquarium forums I've read stories of sheer horror and screams of pain from women who have suffered the darkness of innocence lost. But there too, I see the strongest most compassionate people with whom I've ever come into contact. I am amazed by the passion, drive and survival of the people. We, survivors are the warriors and can get through anything being that we've already been dragged through the perils of hell. It is through compassion for ourselves that we finally find true peace.
  10. To My Exiting Husband

    J, You said you don't miss me and your life is better now without me. My heart is still shattered from you walking out the door. I've come to believe you now that your phone calls are sparse and your pictures are happy. There's so little left of you here now. I can no longer smell you. I hardly remember your sweetness and laughter. That will probably never be shared with me again. We built 13 years together and in a flash, we can't even smile about it. I would have stayed with you until my dying day but you haven't the strength to walk this road with me. You've decided to give up and move on. I don't blame you for making your choice to leave. But I think its time that you admit that you just don't have the strength to make a marriage work. You gave up. I wanted to call you today because you are my best friend. I was wanted to tell you everything that happened and that I made a decision to go forward with the disciplinary action. But then I remembered you stopped believing in me a long time ago. You made yourself believe that I was not raped by M. You spent so much time hurting that you never even considered the wounds that rape would have on me. You even told me your knew it was rape. But now you've changed your mind. Its true, I was responsible for not stopping it sooner. My shame runs deep from it. But no means no. I appreciate that at one time you stood up to my perpetrator.YOu fought for my honor. But it wasn't enough for you or, honestly, for me. I know you felt it was your responsibility to take care of me and that you are sick for not being able to protect me. But since you left I realize now that I have to go it alone. I have to fight my own battles now. In some ways, I must thank you for that. So from a distance I send you love and compassion. Though our journeys may part, I will never regret the love we shared. But time will fade my love for you and I will one day miss the days of missing you. So I am letting you go so we are free to fly without the weight of these chains. And maybe as you fly above you will finally see the true picture of the world that is me. with love, BP
  11. I think living with no regret is the best possible option. If you felt you needed to say something, then do it. At least you know that you gave your entire heart to the cause. There is nothing to lose then. I think its interesting when people believe to the contrary as if to give of your heart would mean that you lose it. Its not. I think if you don't give of your heart then you will regret which is greater loss. Anyhow, curb pride. Pride is silly. Let love lead you.
  12. He Just "Can't"

    My husband was really supportive of my childhood trauma... well sort of. He is a counselor but not in trauma per se. He usually counseled kids with behavioral problems. Still, he is the one who told me that it was rape. I still remember the day I told him. We were fighting and he was walking away. I shouted, "Michael made me this way when he had sex with me!!" He sat with me the whole night while I cried that i can't-really-breathe kind of cry. I went through three years of continuous abuse from a man nearly twice my age who groomed me, drugged me and continuously pushed me into sex and into a secret I held from my family. I'm pretty sure I lived in dissociation for about 13 years. Can you believe that I didn't know it was rape!!!???? Here I was, suddenly thrusted into PTSD as if the trauma happened yesterday. I had lived so long without any issues-- so I thought. But it was clear that I wasn't ok at all. J, my husband, had a horrible time with my anger. He was really hurting and he really was a good man. We did go to counseling. It was somewhat helpful, but my husband also has a terrible stubborn streak. He did not see or recognize how he was triggering me. For example, he did not understand that walking up behind me to hug me was a trigger. If we fought, he had it in his mind that we needed to finish, even if it went in circles. I would asks to take breaks and he just wouldn't which was him pushing himself on me in a way. I do think sometimes he just wanted someone "normal." But what really killed us was not my original trauma but my reenactment of trauma with another man. I was sexually harassed and assaulted by an acquaintance. Most women would see the warning signs- that is, unless she is a victim of sexual trauma. He took advantage of me and had sex with me while I was drunk. It was awful!!!! I told my husband about it. He immediately went into crisis mode. He cried like I have never seen a man cry. He went back and forth from support to anger; love to hate; marriage recovery to divorce. Now he was in trauma and I was attending to anything that would heal him. J and I tried to work on our relationship for 7 months after the event. We went to more counseling, separated, got back together, he had an indiscretion with what I believe was a prostitute, assaulted my current perpetrator, left me after our 11 year anniversary just before christmas, and filed for divorce under the grounds of adultery earlier this month. He even turned me into the university, where I work for an inappropriate relationship. I was investigated and luckily will not lose my job but now I have to face my perpetrator about my allegations that he sexually harassed, assaulted and ultimately raped me. It will be my word against his. What really hurts is that J told me he knew it was rape. He knows!! I asked him to please grow with me not against me. He said, "You ask too much of me. I just can't." Although I know J didn't do this to help me, I am actually kind of grateful right now. I'm glad that I have the opportunity to face my current perpetrator. I see the similarities now that I didn't see before. Its as if the universe opened up the sky and shone a light brightly on to my path of freedom. Freedom for me means finally ending the cycle. I will start by telling my "friend" that what he did was wrong and I will no longer take the responsibilities of his actions. Then I will finally tell my family what happened to me. I will then face my original perpetrator. Finally, with a whole and new me, I will face my husband with my new voice to tell him that he although he just "can't," I can because I am a survivor.
  13. I've reenacted my trauma with another man. Here is the story. I was instructing an elective class at the university that I was attending for graduate school. A PhD student, lets call him Mike, signed up for my class in the Fall. He was a nice man with a lot to offer to the class in discussions, etc. He and a group of students started to approach me after classes to chat. I spent time talking with them especially since they were interested in starting a student organization. The organization didn't really catch on so we dropped it. At the end of the semester, I referred Mike to another teacher so he could continue his practice beyond what I could offer. To my surprise, he showed up in my class in Spring. He started sticking around after class to talk with me on a regular basis. Once he asked me if we could plan on coffee after class to discuss a concept. I said sure. The following week I was sick so he told me that I should give him my number so we could reschedule. I did. He waited a while before using it.. but eventually I was getting regular texts from him. This next statement is beside the issue-- but I want to be as transparent as possible. He and I started talking about experiences with LSD. I told him I had not done that since I was in my early 20s. (I am 33 now). He told me he could get me some. I discussed this with my husband and we decided we wanted to have an experience together. So I went to Mike's house to get the LSD for us. While there, he kissed me. I said, "I'm sorry I think you are great, but I can't.." He stood me up turned me around and pushed me down on the bed and said, "no one has to know." I'm a former surviver of molestation which is another story. However, I believe this is the reason I did not fight him. As he took off my pants, I said, "No! I can't!" He stopped and started to ask me what was wrong with my marriage. I said, "nothing." He pressed. I told him I needed to leave. I didn't say anything to my husband. I was ashamed and embarrassed and felt responsible. He did not show up to class for a while although he did send me an email that our relationship was inappropriate and that he wanted "nothing to do with it" until I am "divorced" and if he is also single then he would consider it. I was confused and sent and email that we didn't even need to be friends and that was ok. Then he showed up the last day of class. He waited for everyone in the class to leave the room and approached me. He wanted to "talk about it." I said there is nothing to talk about. He pushed me in the corner of my classroom and kissed me. I was shocked and couldn't speak. He said he was sorry and that I was "just so pretty." He said lets meet next week and talk about this. Still in shock, I agreed. I met with him to tell him no more. I said that I want to be with my family and I have no interest in a sexual relationship with him. He kissed me again-- forcefully. Again, I didn't say anything. He of course apologized again. Then I told him about a class I was teaching during the summer. Stupidly, I invited him to attend (I cannot believe some of my behavior to this day). He attended once. Then I was under the impression that he was leaving. I was relieved that he would leave for the summer and since I wouldn't be teaching the class in the fall I assumed I would never have to see him again. I just couldn't seem to muster up the nerve to tell him to leave me alone. To some degree, I enjoyed his conversation, but I really didn't want a sexual relationship. One night I was out with my girlfriends. I saw him out at the bar. My girlfriends left and I stuck around a while to talk with friends. A friend asked for a ride and Mike overheard. He said, "can I get a ride?" I said oh no come on! You are just trying to come on to me!" He said," No I just would need to get a cab if you don't." I complied. I gave him a ride home. I dropped off my friend first, then I took Mike home. He leaned in and kissed me. This time I was so drunk I allowed him. I even walked up the stairs with him to his room. I really didn't want to have sex with him but he had already been so aggressive with me on other occasions I felt worn down. At first I remember saying no making an excuse that I was on my period. He didn't care. It felt awful and just wanted it to end. When it did, I left. I cried the whole way home. I told my husband what happened. He knows my past history. We went to counseling, he and I confronted Mike and my husband even ended up assaulting him. Now my husband wants a divorce because I feels that I betrayed him and had an affair. I told him that I really didn't want this and I felt violated by this perpetrator. He still doesn't believe me. My husband turned me in to the University for an inappropriate relationship with a student. Upon investigation, the university decided that I was raped because I told them I did not consent. They want me to now approach the student conduct department to turn in Mike for further investigation. I am afraid because I gave in that they won't see this as rape. I've already been told that I won't lose my job. It was last Spring in May when this occurred so at this point, its my word against his.
  14. My brother-in-law raped me at a concert when we were both on LSD. He was 27 and I was 15. I had no idea what was happening and the next day I was so confused. He told me I could never tell anyone because they would never understand our love. I thought the world of him. I was so different from the rest of my family and felt like he really understood me. It turns out he was just grooming me the whole time. He made me believe that he was the only person who could understand me and that everyone else was foolish. I would spend weeks in his home in the guest bedroom and at night when my sister went to bed he would get drunk and have sex with me. I still remember feeling paralyzed. But still, I would let him. I would, at times, welcome him. I still struggle with this and wondered for years if I could define this as rape. I remember telling someone once about it without the details, just that it went on for 3 years and she asked me, "can you really call that rape?" I was devastated. All that time of keeping my mouth shut, going through and abortion with his baby, losing my intimacy with my family and later every relationship I would attempt to have and she asked me if it was really rape? Damn right it was! I didn't ask to be violated, alienated and carry guilt for the rest of my life. I didn't ask to be groomed into trust at a pure age of 15 when most young women are going through their first love. I didn't ask for my first sexual encounter to be colored in shame. He is sick. Not me. I am healing. I am learning to forgive myself everyday for feeling like it was my fault or that I was the one who had to lie. Source: Returning "willingly" to your abuser