"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 

The Princess and the....Pee

So what's the average time spent potty training, these days? A couple months? A few weeks? A day or two? Hmmmm....or maybe 2 and half years! My daughter is a very smart little girl. Demanding, but smart. We are nearing her 4th birthday in less than a month, and I must say that the thought of that breaks my heart a little bit.  However, the reality that she continues to pee her pants on a daily basis takes some of that sadness away.  I let this fact slip with much trepidation, as there is a tremendous amount of judgement that goes along with an admission such as this one.  Let's face it, "mommy land" is judge mental, and is just the grown up version as "girl world". The two are hand in hand. It can be fairly nasty at times. So here I am, as usual, airing my secrets for the world to hear, and admitting to yet...again...another "failure" as a mommy.

"Do you think there's something wrong with her"? 

"Oooh, that's not normal"? 

"Have you taken her to the doctor"? 

These are just some of the lovely comments that I have received in recent months.  I am fully aware, that this has all been uttered by people who truly do care, and are honestly concerned about my child's well being.  However, let me be the one to correct all concern.....

My child is lazy. That's right. You heard it. There is no medical reason, other than her own bloody laziness that is attributing to this "condition". Frankly, if she doesn't want to take the time to walk away from what she is playing or doing, she would rather just pee her pants. Now there's something as a mother to be proud of. I have heard so many people say that girls are so easy to potty train....Ha!  Come on over. Give my daughter a try! I'm losing my marbles. Actually, at this point, I have just began to accept it.  She is quite capable of letting me know at the worst moments, that she has to go "potty". And she has proven to me that she has the ability to hold it. She has also proven, that she will wait until the last possible moment, at all times, before she is willing to go. This has proven to be a tremendous amount of fun for me. 

My favorite, is at the grocery store. When the lineup is really long, I get to the front, and she starts to dance...."I have to go potty". Are you kidding me? Now? Really? By this point, frankly, I could care less if she pee's her pants. This is the difference between first time mommy's and mommy's who have more than 1. Time becomes more important than another pair of pants in the wash.

Like hell am I going to lose my place in line! Does this make me a bad mom? Because I'll tell you that on more than one occasion, I have been given the "look" from bystanders in grocery stores, at school, the mall....all while I am making snap decisions that I am well aware look bad from the outside! I get it.  Mother hood is not pretty. Anyone who is making it look like it's super easy is a liar. That's right....liar. 

I will say, that her lack of concern in this department has definitely caused me to "close up shop".  Are you kidding? I have no interest to spend 10 years revolving my life around everybody else's potty schedule. Now I realize that I probably spend a lot more time blogging about bodily functions, but let's get real here for a second. Mom's don't say it. We just don't. We trudge along in the trenches, smiling and not really admitting to each other things like this. It's embarrassing. It makes us feel like failures, because it looks like everyone around us isn't struggling. When the reality is, they just are too scared to admit it. Because, they...like you...are afraid of being judged. Now I know that we all have our mommy friends that we get in to the nitty gritty with. Of course, I'm not saying that. What I am saying, is that maybe if as mommy's we judged strangers a little less and found more compassion in their struggles, things would be a lot different. 

Even if I am really organized, which I have to be, and manage to get her to the bathroom before any accidents happen, I am faced with yet, another dilemma. Something that I had never thought about when my kids were little. The "boy to girl" ratio. My son is now old enough to realize that he is going into the girls washroom. He is 6. Sometimes I feel like that old proverb about the goose, the wolf and the bag of grain. Think about it for just a second. There are situations where I am comfortable leaving him waiting outside. There are situations where I am o.k. letting him go into the men's washroom by himself. There are others where I am NOT.

We travel to the U.S.A a lot, being right on the other side of the border. We were at the mall. Miss C had to go potty. We are in another country. Perhaps I am over protective and nuts, but there was NO WAY I was leaving him to stand outside the ladies washroom, beside the front entrance of Target, while I waited for my independent, yet lazy 3 year old to go to the bathroom. Because I am NOT aloud to help...that creates a whole other set of issues that I will write about soon enough....

He lost his mind. I don't mean a little. I mean totally blew his lid, right there in the front door of the ladies room. I am struggling with a 3 year old about to pee her pants, a double stroller full of shopping bags, I am now blocking the doorway, and my 5 year old is literally holding onto the door jam screaming "no, I won't do it, I won't go in there"....as I am repeating the phrase "we are in another country, and your sister has to go potty, I can't leave you out here by yourself". I am sweating, disheveled and probably looked like a complete and absolute failure as a parent. However, my child wasn't kidnapped that day, so I suppose I wasn't such a failure after all. 

In recent months a 6 year old boy was assaulted at our local Costco, in the washroom by a 10 year old boy. He crawled under the door and bit the boy in the face, while the dad and sister stood outside the door waiting. Who's overprotective now! 

Are we always going to make good choices, when faced with decisions on the fly? Hell no. We are not. 

Are we going to make the decision that we feel is in the best interest of our children, at that moment, despite what kind of criticism we are going to get from family, bystanders, friends or strangers? I certainly hope so. I hope that I don't ever make decisions based on what I am afraid others will think. They may "know" my children....but they sure didn't "make" my children. Therefore, I'm pretty sure that no matter what ridiculous rule, or socially unacceptable decision I make....it's no ones to judge. 

Unless I am beating the hell out of my kids, or abusing them, then please step in. Clearly I have lost my marbles at that point.

So what! My daughter pee's her pants.....all the time. It could be worse. I hope that by the time we reach high school, this will have passed. As parents, a huge amount of the things we go through with our kids are "phases" and they do eventually pass. We hope.

As I write this, I hear from the other room..."mommy, I peed on myself". Now if that isn't art imitating life, I don't what is.  I'm happy to know that in our family, she is accepted for who she is. Thankfully, I am pretty laid back when it comes to this situation. I'm happy knowing that she'll never be spanked, or abused for the character of who she is. I'm happy knowing that I have the ability to find it funny when she puts her little hands up in the air and says "I just don't know why I keep doing that". She is amusing. She makes me laugh...and soon enough I know that she will too make me cry. She is everything that I have ever wanted in a little girl, but didn't know it. She is high maintenance, demanding, independent, and defiant. She is also funny, sweet and so full of love. She is everything that her daddy and I wished for. Even if she leaks....