continued.... Drugs No matter what is your poison, or your addiction, drugs are a sense of taking ourselves out of a world we no longer what to live or feel for a few hours. I remember the first night I smoked. I had just got dumped. While I was on acid ( regrets the whole trying acid thing ) I was with a few friends and they all were begging me to smoke. I decided why the hell not what did I have to lose and I probably wouldn't even like it. I didn't like it, I also wasn't doing it right ( how was I not doing it right, well thats a whole other story. ) Smoking took me out of my world, I went from being stressed and always overthinking being high strung. Smoking made me feel like I had control, like I finally could see everything around me clearer. When I first tried smoking I thought it was going to be something like drinking and that I was going to become like addicted or something of the sorts. It was a way different experience than drinking and it actually help me stop drinking. I didn't need to smoke everyday. Or even ever week. It wasn't like when I developed a problem with alcohol where I needed to get completely wasted every time I got a chance. With smoking I didn't wake up with a pounding hangover and lose function for that whole day. I was still me, except way less stress. I honestly can not wait for the day it becomes legal. It has helped me so much with my depression, anxiety, and insomniac that any prescribed medicine as ever helped me.
“Rape Trauma Syndrome (RTS) is the medical term given to the response that most survivors have to rape. It is very important to note that RTS is the natural response of a psychologically healthy person to the trauma of rape so these symptoms do not constitute a mental disorder or illness.”
Immediately after a rape you become cold, disorientated, you may even tremble
In my case, I was stuck in my predators home on both occasions.
sophomore year: when someone at a young age because a victim of rape the emotional impact it causes are horrendous. Sleep disturbances. Eating disturbances.
I wasn’t considered a victim of rape my sophomore year.
Because I laid down and took it.
You are a 15 year old. You are somewhere your parents don’t know where you are. Your phone is dying and you are in a room with a 19 year old. He is telling you stories of his past that included anger issues and abusive tendencies. You could see why I was scared. Do what he wants or get beat, and I didn’t know if he was going to stop if he started to hit me. You see he wasn’t the first girl he had done it too. But I had not known that when I got in the car with him.
Behavioural symptoms: expresses or feels that are generally visible to others. Including, lifestyle changes and changes in relationships.
Crying more than usual
Avoiding anything that reminds the survivor of the rape: such as a place the attacker worked
Becoming easily upset by small things
Relationship problems: family and friends
Loss of interest in sex or becoming overactive in sex
Changes in appearance
Increased substance abuse
Suicide attempts, self- mutilation
Though my sophomore year expierence didn’t do much damage or so I had thought at the time my junior year did.
I was with my best friend, someone I could trust, or so I thought. Him and his friend picked me up from my house and taken me to my friends friends house. We started game of pool and began to drink. As the night became later I had slowly became intoxicated and had to be carried up the stairs. We were in the living room and playing guitar hero. They were trying to get me to go into the hot tub. I had no bikini so they wanted me to go in with my bra and underwear. I refused and asked to go lay down for I wasn’t feeling to good. My friend’s friend who we shall call Adam, carried me into this room and laid me down. Adam asked me if I wanted him to leave me alone and I said yes. I heard him walk towards the door and shut it. I had figured he had left. Sadly he had not left. He climbed into bed and proceeded to undress me. When he began to have sex with me he repeatedly asked me, “why are you not moving?” “why are you crying?” “why are you not saying anything?” This time I did not take it to the police.
The other day I saw Adam, he works at my mom and I’s favorite restaurant. I had a panic attack.
Psychological symptoms: are much less visible and can be completely hidden. Generally referring to the inner thoughts and emotions.
Fear and anxiety
Self-blame and guilt
Feeling no control of your life
Lowering of self esteem
Constantly thinking about the rape
Having flashbacks to the rape
Though there are a million other symptoms in all aspects of rape these were the ones I felt the most. Physical, Behavioral, and psychological.
My rape does not define me but it has and it didn’t destroy a huge part of me.
” I am a victim of Rape, and no, I did not provoke it, and no, I did not ask for it.”
A mind altering substances, creating a never ending cycle of horrible mistakes.
Do you remember your first sip of alcohol?
Do you remember your first time being drunk?
Do you remember?
When under the influence of alcoholism you are no longer able to think straight.
Words become slurred, actions become dishonorable.
I remember the first time I was truly intoxicated, falling and collapsing.
Unable to walk, move, or even think properly.
I developed a problem my Junior year of high school, I thought it would of solved all of my problems and help me forget everything I had been through.
My Senior year I got ahold of my addiction and quit drinking every weekend, and only on occasions.
Alcohol is a dangerous mind altering chemical. Don’t believe me? Go out and come back and tell me what it is like to make a life changing mistake due to your experience.
" don't you ever dare put me second, when I put you first." Do you remember in middle school playing dodgeball? If you were the kid like me then you know how it was to always be picked last, well of course unless you were the leader. I remember that feeling, knowing how I wasn't good enough, or skinny enough, or alethic enough. As I started to grow up, I soon began to realize that my life was still in an endless round of dodgeball. To this day I am still not picked first. I began to except my fate of being the loser of my own life. No longer did I feel in control of something I should of had control of, my life. I excepted my fate as some would say. It had taken years to get to a spot where I said enough is enough I will no longer be put last. Last place always sucked, and I no longer would play a game I would end up losing. NO way in hell was I gonna let myself live a life of such misery. I know when to walk away know. What I deserve. What I need in my life. In my relationship. " if you want me in your life, put me there. I shouldn't have to fight for a spot."
Alcohol: definition: a colorless volatile flammable liquid that is produced by the natural fermentation of sugars and is the intoxicating constituent of wine, beer, spirits, and other drinks, and is also used as an industrial solvent and as fuel.
ex: We drank so much alcohol we were unable to walk to the other room.
Drugs: definition: a medicine or other substance which has a physiological effect when ingested or otherwise introduced into the body.
ex: The two girls were on so many drugs that their bodies were unable to withstand being sober.
Sex: definition: (chiefly with reference to people) sexual activity, including specifically sexual intercourse.
ex: The couple after being together for two years decided it was time to have sex.
soon to be continued…
I guess you could say it was all just a dream... The ones you wake up from and have no recognition from. Except in this case, all you know is what the others are telling you. You wake up scared and confused, Where am I? What am I doing here? How did I get here? At first none of it makes sense and you are in a strong sense of disbelief. Here we see the five stages of grief. Stage 1: Denial- that would never happen, I would never do that, I don'tbelieve you. Stage 1b: Isolation- don't touch me, I don't deserve you, stay away. Stage 2: Anger- how could this happen, why would you let me do that. Stage 3: Bargaining- please god I'll do anything please don't let him leave me, please God take this all back let this be a bad dream please. Stage 4: Depression- I shouldn't be living, I should just die, Life would be better without me, he would be better without me. and last but not least Stage 5: Acceptance: Well I can't change what happened but I can work on making everything better from here on out. Which each stage comes with a new realization of what had all gone down. How I so badly wanted to blame him for letting me drink too much or that he had let me out of his sights or that he hadn't gotten more control of the situation, but no, this was no where near his fault and only the blame could fall on one person, and that one person was me. And it wouldn't be a lie if I said that as I was typing this it doesn't take every ounce in my body not to relapse tonight. You hear people talk all the time about something that happened and you laugh because you know they were never even there. Try being there and not know what happened at all. I rather talk out of my ass about something that I never took apart of then to be sitting here, right in this very moment, trying to wrap my brain around every missing puzzle piece and trying to clear up the fog that was currently engulfing any remaining pieces from the night I don't remember.
Guilty minds haunt my sleep, insominia kisses my soft cheeks and sings me the lullaby of restless nights. Dreams of past actions and filthy mistakes haunt my mind making it hard to sleep at night.
You told me you loved me. You lied again. You told me you didnt love me anymore. You lied again. You kissed me. You broke me. You fucked me up. You fucked me up. Why did you lie.
You forced me to think you cared and you were sorry. You were not sorry. You just were bored. Once again I was a one time thing in a bored state. I am not someone you can use when you are bored.
I am a human being. I am not a toy. I deserve to be loved. I deserve to be happy.
“Why don’t you love yourself”
My mom used to say a while back, you will never have a successful relationship until you love yourself. How can I love myself though? I don’t see my worth. I don’t see how beautiful I am. Or atleast thats what I am constantly told. My mom tells me its cause of my dad.
Those two words always came with a sudden sadness and I guess my mom was somewhat right. My dad broke my heart before any stupid boy could come along to do so. See I have never heard the words ” you are beautiful” or any of the sorts from the father. I guess that could be some sort of reasoning behind my self-loath towards myself.
How can I blame others though? Its my fault. Shouldn’t I be able to see my beauty… Throughout the years I have been called the worst but the only thing getting me through was not believing them. Or was I just pushing aside the words. And deep down I did believe them.
“Why don’t you love yourself?”
And honestly I don’t know the answer to that question. Because it could be so many reasons.
Do you know what it feels like to die? To feel like you are dying is to fall in love and then have it ripped apart. To have love notes and memoirs shreeded in front of you. To have ever inch of your body crumble to the floor as you hear his words “i don’t love you anymore…” And when people ask me what I’m most scared of the answer is not spiders or heights but the fear of falling in love.
The fear to kiss his lips and feel butterflies. The fear of cuddling all day in a dark room getting to know each other. The fear of loving him too hard and becoming to close. The fear of lies and betrayal. The fear of no mutual feelings. The fear of goodbye. I fear love. I fear loving someone.
I am used for my love, for the way I love so hard. I am naive to the things around me for the way I see things. I am hurt because I am so forgiving. And you took all of those weaknesses and used them to your liking.
3 years. 3 years we talked, fell in love ( well i did, i dont know about you, cuz you lied so much ), we kissed, we shared memories, and other stuff.
You told me you loved me. And you kissed me. You told me you loved me. And you put your arms around me. You told me you loved me. As you pulled off my clothes. You told me you loved me as your proceeded to fuck me. You told me you loved me. As you help put back on my clothes. You told me you loved me. As I called you sobbing because you left me.
You told me you hated me. Each time I heard another rumor you were talking bad about me. You told me you hated me. Each time we would fight. You told me you hated me. When you decided what I gave to wasnt good enough and you picked her instead of me. You told me you hated me. When you told me to kill myself.
I did love you. The love you say you had for me was a lie you told so you were able to abuse my love. You knew that the simple 3 words coming from your mouth would make me weak and cave. You did not love me. And its time I move on.