"Reap" what we sow...

Today I write from a very different side of myself. With everything that I write, I try to come from a place of humor, happiness and laughter.  Today, this conversation takes a different turn. 

This conversation has the potential to make you uncomfortable. It may cause you to judge me, criticize me, or view me through different eyes. This may make you feel awkward. This may make you emotional. This is the hardest thing I will ever write.

This is my story. 

My rapist, doesn't think he's a rapist. My rapist thinks it's funny that he got away with it. My rapist told me to my face that it didn't happen, that what I accused him of wasn't the truth.

This has been my reality for the last 16 years. This is what haunts me. This is my shame to carry. I have thought at times, that because I wasn't assaulted in a back alley or dark stairwell, and because there was no fight...I did not scream.....that maybe it wasn't rape. What I have come to realize as a woman, is that it is a gray area. I have been shamed by my peers, and questioned my accusations against him, and often wondered....did I ask for it? I have relieved that night countless times, over and over and over and over in my memory. I have relieved the days and weeks that followed. When I watch T.V. I am reminded.When I watch movie's, I remember. When I hear stories, or read books....I relieve it. It is embarrassing. There is a huge amount of shame involved, when you know your attacker. A midst all the rumors, gossip and judgement, I carried on in high school as though nothing had happened. He was in several of my classes....I had no voice. I was on display for everyone to judge. Very few people believed me. I understand why......I question why not?  

I was 17. I was drinking in my home with my girlfriends. I was having a sleepover. I was a virgin. 

He had a girlfriend. He kept trying to get me to have sex with him. I was not that kind of girl.

By the end of this night, I would be raped, in my own bed, and not be aware of what had taken place. 

I was too drunk to know at the time, what had really happened to me. My friends were in the other room....they did not know what was happening to me behind that closed door.

I remember the events vividly as they unfolded, however, as a 17 year old girl who had never been intimate with anyone, I was truly unaware that I had actually been raped. I knew that I was bleeding, bruised and sore, but it had happened so fast, and I was so drunk that the time, I didn't understand. I didn't say "no". I didn't know I needed to. I repeated "you're hurting me", instead. I couldn't move my arms or legs. I didn't know I was having sex. I didn't know what sex was like.

I was extremely intoxicated. He was sober. 

In the days and weeks that followed, I was able to piece my memories together and figure out what had actually happened to me. He refused to talk to me, until I called him into the office at school. I did not have the chance to ask him anything before he uttered the words "are you pregnant?" It was confirmed for me, everything that I questioned, in that split second. 

The actual event, and how it unfolded is something that I can't put into words. It is for me to share with friends, fellow victims and people who know me. It is a "he said", "she said" situation. He was very popular at school. He is still well liked by a lot of people in our small town. I was made out to be a liar, to be promiscuous, to be "making it up". After 16 years, my account of that night has never changed. It made my last year of high school and years after, a night mare.  It changed the way people viewed me, and how I would be received for years after that. What exactly would I have gained, by lying?   

I have come to find out that in the last few years, he was bragging about what he did to me at a party. How he "got away with it". How he held me down. How he raped me.

I am forced, after 16 years to relive the emotions and humiliation again. They laughed at my expense. They thought it was funny. They didn't realize that he stole my innocence.

I was very much in love with a boy who had moved away. Although we were not together at the time, I always knew that we would eventually be together. I was saving that moment for him, when I was ready, and mature enough to handle a sexual relationship. Seventeen year old me was very much in love. When "R" finally came home, and we were in fact dating, I had to tell him about what happened. He walked that road with me. He always believed me. He never judged me. He held me hand, anytime that I may be in a situation to have to see him. He protected me, and defended me. He understood me. He loved me. He allowed me to believe that although I was damaged, I wasn't broken. I'm grateful for that, beyond words. 

After we broke up, I had to deal with all the fear and emotions that were left over from the rape. Without "R" there to walk life's road with me, and my heart shattered from the break up, I became promiscuous. I drank excessively and put myself into situations where I was left feeling empty, used and worthless. I was everything he told me I was. I became the person he accused me of being all along. My reputation was already so ruined, that from my broken shell of a woman, it didn't matter anyways. What I had to give, was all I was worth. He told me that.

All I was able to hear was his words. His rumors. His friends. His family.

I was no longer able to hear the words of the boy that loved me, the family that trusted in me, the friends that believed me. 

The events that took place that February night, changed who I was going to be. It changed the path I would walk down. The repercussions of what happened to me, will follow me for the rest of my life. But they will not define me, they will not control me, and they will no longer own me. I will not hide behind shame and humiliation anymore. I will not silence my voice. I will not allow the events of that one night, to determine every night that follows. I have had others come forward and confess that he has done the same to them, and yet on the same hand, had girls tell me that he was respectful and treated them great. I'm sure he did. I'm thankful that he did. Many of the girls I respect to this day, dated him, had sexual relationships with him, and loved him. I'm thankful for their sake that he never crossed that line. I'm thankful that they were saved from the grief, and humiliation that comes from having something so precious stolen from you. 

I worry about my son, my daughter and my step-daughter. I have never shared this with her. She is almost 15. I think about her safety often. I worry, that she too may be taken advantage of. I worry that she may be forced to grow up faster than any one had ever hoped. I hope that if nothing else ever comes of this....I hope that she hears my story. I hope that it makes her pause...listen to her instincts....follow the voice inside her. Be her own hero. Be cautious of the situations that she is in. Be true to herself. Be able to follow her own path, and not the path someone else decides for her.

I have been very blessed to find a man who is willing to listen. He try's to understand. He is my protector. He is the very person that stopped me on my path of destruction nearly 9 years ago. He makes me a better person. Together, we have owned our struggles, and confessed our past, and healed together. He embraces me for everything I have been, and have become. For him, I am thankful. For our struggles, I am thankful. For the future, I am thankful. For how hard I have worked to overcome my past, I am thankful. For where he is now.....I am thankful. For if nothing else... we reap what we sow. I guess in this case...we "rape" what we sow.

I choose to sow honesty, I choose to sow joy. I choose to sow happiness, laughter and love. I will always choose happiness, no matter how dark the past may be, you can overcome. You can inspire. You can believe. You can love. You can heal......I will. 

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.” 
― Marilyn Monroe