In today's world when someone calls rape, the first question from the police, the lawyers or anyone else's mouth is "What did you do to cause it?" That should not be something that is asked of the victims. Nothing the victim does is their fault, nothing that they drink, say, wear or do require someone to rape them. The following story is from someone that I know has been through this experience and wanted to share it with others. This is for all of those out there who are struggling, who have been through similar situations, things will get better.
"Some things take time, stay patient and stay positive, things will get BETTER"
There are words that could describe how I feel, but I am never able to speak them. There are things I could speak, but they won’t come out. Not because they don’t want to, but because not everyone believes them. When I was 15, I sat in a gym and was told I was a liar. I was told I was exaggerating. I was told to be quiet. My silence has always been my strength. Until finally I’d had enough. I do not need someone to validate what happened. I do not need someone to tell me that I am right. I do not need someone to tell me I am telling the truth. I know I am. I know what happened, and it is not a joke.
I am 15. Everything moves by in a blur. My first year of high school. Everything. What happened that year stained me. It made me feel conflicted about being hurt. Everyone told me I was making it up. He was the good guy, He was a nice guy, and I said yes.
But is it really yes when he begs me to do it. Is it really yes when I tell him that I’m not sure, is it really yes when the voices in my head are screaming. Don’t.
Because these are stains I can’t get rid of, and these are stains that no amount of love could get out, and these are stains I will live with.
But I will not hide them. They are not my shame. I am not some hidden stain on the back of a t-shirt, and I am not some horrible thing to be washed away. I am proud. I am strong.
But, when you wear your stains proudly, not everything that flocks to you is good, and unfortunately for me, it was bad.
Unfortunately for me it was engaged, and unfortunately for me it was hidden. And unfortunately for me it liked to guilt. And push. And it had a fascination with dangerous objects that it would press against me to watch me shudder.
And once again, a stain.
And, once again I was faced with the question of are my stains my shame?
You see, this was not one I could wear on my shoulder, and this was not one I could wash away.
This one was black, and when it stained it stained my core, and I was only one thing
Broken.
But this will not be the end.
This is not my final chapter.
Sure, I can’t wear this one on my sleeve, and I can’t push it away, but maybe love can wash it away.
And maybe, I am fixable.
and maybe I will walk away from this stronger, and better, and more able to cope. Maybe I will walk away with the realization that no is a word, and I need to use it.
And maybe, just maybe, if I can do it. If I can find the courage to say no..
Maybe you can too.
- Anonymous
"You can recognize survivors of abuse by their courage. When silence is so very inviting, they step forward and share their truth so others know they arent alone" Jenna McElvaney
