Sexual Abuse – Rape… It’s All the Same. Remembering and Reliving the Past

Ya know, the general consensus is that time heals all wounds. I can speak from experience that this does ring true for a slew of things. This blog post is prompted by an episode of Private Practice, a spin off of Grey’s Anatomy that I am just now getting to watch.

It’s rare when a show probes my deeply filed memories that I tend to later notice that I remember but find myself conveniently forgetting… or even more so remembering but not connecting to the actual vision of what happened or how I felt. We tend to call this dissociation in the therapeutic setting and unlike any other show in recent years… Private Practice touched…well, it hit home for me. It leads me to want to write this post.

Now, I forget the statistics behind the amount of women who have experienced some sort of abuse, and yes, I acknowledge that men experience this too so in no way am I discounting you guys, but I find that more often than not women have more experiences or close calls than they can imagine. Speaking from one that understands this and has specialized in sex therapy due to the alarming amount of molestation, rape, sexual assault and abuse that has happened with my clients… more often than not…a great majority of women I have met has encountered a situation that has disturbed them and even made them upset (even if for a second).

I remember during my ‘drug days’ fuzzy memories of encounters I had and not remembering why or how I got into the predictament but remembering saying NO, STOP, and still being ignored. It happened more times than I can remember and sometimes I remember going home and almost replaying the memory in my head over and over until I remembered it differently. It makes the actual memory fuzzy but I recall trying to remember each incident differently more times than I can count. I chalked it up to being necessary…something women have to do to be accepted, popular, or important. I look back now and just shake my head thinking…”oh, how messed up I was…I was so lost…for that…it’s sad..I was sad, lonely, and lost.” I cry a few tears in this moment…remembering the girl I once was and the pain I once endured at the expense of being accepted. Those people didn’t matter. I don’t even know who they were but I soooooo wanted to be seen, loved, and appreciated. Only….the situations I put myself in only brought me pain…screwed me up more and made me even more lost. They were lost boys and lost men using and praying on girls they found…just as messed up themselves and now I wonder (for the first time) if they ever remember doing such things to girls like me. Does it bother them?!

The show that brought on this blog hit home in a way that I remember and can recall the exact moment of my concern in each situation. The first time I had sex….wanting to but then changing my mind only to be ignored…later being both happy because I really liked the guy but unsure how I felt because I had said no. Was this my fault?! I guess it didn’t matter since I had wanted him…I liked him. Hell, I was a child and I was…Oh so many things. I don’t think about it though. I know the standard view on it but I found myself with mixed feelings and still to this day I have those mixed feelings. I ignored it and went on with my life. No big deal really. If I wanted to it didn’t matter if I had said no in the moment…or did it?! Doesn’t matter now, right?!

Then I remember one Valentine’s Day I went out on a date with this, what I thought at the time, very attractive young man who wanted into the military. I’d kind of chased him and I was overweight so I was… I was love sick and crushed big time…hell, I was pathetic and desperate. Finally getting attention was something new and I went along with just about whatever he said. Only he had gotten drunk one night with me at a party I drove him to after we had detoxed and not ate for days to get into the military. I think he got in but I didn’t. Still, I got really sick that night and he left me there. I remember calling my mom and telling her I had my keys but I couldn’t drive. Eventually, I had to call my sister to come get me because I was beyond sick. Still….I went out with him the following Valentine’s Day. Man, do we forgive the dumbest things for a crush. I don’t even remember what we did but I will never forget how I felt and then going to Walmart of all places. I remember getting back in the car and I tried to stop things…mind you…we are still sitting in Walmart parking lot…and instead of respecting my wishes he ripped my panties off and forced himself on me while I kept beggin him not to. I remember fighting him and he was just so much stronger than me. After….he acted all sweet and as if nothing bad happened. I remember not knowing how to respond but the desperate girl in me wanted to still be liked and not be “that girl” so I made no big deal. I won’t forget that. Ever. I just put it in the back of my mind. It’s nothing. It was my fault. Years later I really couldn’t recall his last name so it wouldn’t matter if I brought it up. I wondered if he’d done that to anyone else. Desperate me…I had tried to stay in touch but he cut me off and it actually shocked me into reality. Only shortly after my world continued to change. Of course this was before the first one I recalled….a much older man (did I tell you that?) that I have no idea how I knew him. I think he was a friend of a friend but I don’t recall. My life became a blur around those days.

My mind is shutting down all the thoughts I was thinking of writing. Memories I had clear in my mind but no that I write them…become even more clear and then fuzzy. Funny thing about PTSD….it doesn’t give a damn about a blog or post. It wants to protect you. Only it can make things worse.

The next and main thing I remembered watching the show when Violet tells Charolette that she understands about her rape… she goes into detail about hearing the man shush her like someone would a child…his breath initially being nice because it was a hot Indian summer. It suddenly brought back the only moment I can recall in the series of………… what I call……incidents with a stalker/psycho/significantly abusive man I was with some years ago. I knew he was crazy and two months in I couldn’t get rid of him. Yet, his tactics were so sly that he would reel me in, make me feel bad for him, make me feel guilty, and I wouldn’t want to be “the bad guy.” So, I dealt with it. I got sick of fighting with him in arguments and it got worse. His insecurities, his jealousy….and he was the one sleeping around…not me. He showed up at my work, stayed just outside and followed me anywhere. After one huge fight that resulted in him attracting me with a hammer, my neighbors attempting to help me escape, and car windows being smashed….he left….after significant contusions in my arms and fighting for my life while he slammed me to the floor like a rag doll. And I was strong then. I was fit and healthy…I was happy but he took that from me. I allowed it to happen…. I asked for help…I asked him to leave and still even after he had a restraining order I remember hearing him outside my window breathing. I remember hearing someone come into my house after picking the lock…I was so scared I hid in the kitchen laundry room and yet he walked up to me as if nothing was wrong..all happy. I feared for my life every day. Yet, before it escalated to this moment…we had been together…he had sweet talked his way and eventually I started shutting my mouth to keep the peace. I look back now and there’s so many other ways I would have handled it but in the moment I was tired. He broke me. I cry for that lost woman. I miss that strong me but I am so much more now.

I pause….because….. because….I cry for the woman that was lost. I was left an empty shell of myself that would never be the same. I am stronger than ever. I am wise. I am uniquely me and I can’t regret the things I have encountered in my life because they made me who I am today. I love me. I am resilient and I will not give up. With each fail, I learn. I grow. I am me.

…..the show… instantly brought back the ONE time I remember during the year stint of abuse I went through…being happy and miserable. How could someone be both amazing and horrific?! It was the games he played and I sure was played. I knew it too. That’s the messed up part. I remember telling myself I didn’t know. Maybe it would help me be comfortably numb. Nope. I remember asking for help and crying for some help. Only to be told to just leave. How could I leave when he followed me?! It’s a fear you can’t escape. Still…. I will never forget. When Violet told Charlotte of the mans breath on her neck….my mind went through my memories that are so neatly stored in my mind in such a way that I don’t think about them ever… time makes things more fuzzy… or maybe it’s my mind being protective and smart… sometimes I work with clients and I can recall the situations as a general idea but I don’t picture them. I don’t purposely do that. I do’t seek to picture them either but I never see it. In this instant… that file was opened and like an out of body experience, I witnessed what happened to me. I remember distinctly having this out of body experience when it happened the first of maybe a few hundred times… after the first I was lost….second, numb… third and so on… I was dead inside – an empty shell. My mind had “please do not disturb” for most of my days. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t live. My life revolved around whatever he wanted because it kept me from fighting and arguing. It kept me from more pain, abuse, and if I just allowed it to happen…he would leave me alone. Each time I was more empty. Each time I was nothing. No one. Not important. Who would fucking care if I screamed?! No one.

So, you ask…what happened?! I didn’t want to have sex one day. He was so obsessed. It was how he felt loved but how can someone feel loved who doesn’t have the emotional connection nor need it to feel close?! Still with all my education and expertise in the situation…I have no FUCKING clue. I remember joking, laughing, and saying no. I remember him playing the ‘poor me’ card and I spooned with him but things escalated quickly. He kept grabbing me and I pushed him away. Trying not to be ‘that girl’ but I was tired and had to work. He wouldn’t stop. Eventually, I gave in and tried to ignore how I felt. I wasn’t a victim…I wasn’t going to be a victim. Just go through it and make him happy and it’ll be it….only thinking about it in the moment made it all that more worse. Was this happening to me? Is this what happened before? only this time I didn’t have drugs or alcohol to help me escape. I was WIIIIIIDE awake..only tired. Only it wasn’t just over and done. He had his own plans and he didn’t care how I felt. When I asked and said I was done….’okay, enough.’ He was like the child who didn’t want his toy to be taken away. Instead, he retaliated for someone attempting to take his toy. I remember my face relaxing, my eyes going blank, and I began to float across the room….watching from a third person point of view. I was gone. In brief moments I would come back only to float away again….I was numb. I was dead inside. I was never the same.

The worst part is how difficult it was to overcome and even press charges but even the extended restraining order I put on him…that took all my being to just get me out of the house to go downtown and do this….the woman I reported to…she never included it in the paperwork. I cried in her office. I was hesitant and yet she tossed that aside like it was nothing. It still bothers me. I later had to get my documents and noticed it was never included. Nothing I spilled that last half hour that was so hard for me. Just simply ignored like it never happened. Yet, two more women endured his wrath over the years. he spent a short amount of time in jail but returned to probation. Five years….it took me at least that to feel complete again. I was blessed and bounced back fairly quickly. I had support. I had exposure therapy….basically. I mean, I didn’t realize the extent of my issues after months of staying at home until I worked in a jail and had to be frisked. My mind was fine but my body wasn’t. I was a mess for months after that. Trying to understand WTH. It’s how I realized I had PTSD. Diagnosed and all…woopity do da. I am not my diagnosis!

—-That abuse went on several times a day for 9 months or so. I forget now. I’m talking about the abuse with the guy…not the jail part. The experience in the jail helped me get better. I learned more about things I had to relearn that I never had to learn in the first place. At least, I didn’t remember having to. Simply things were difficult. Concentration was off and when something triggered me…which was another learning curve…it could be anything. If my body felt it was in danger….it would start shaking uncontrollably….my blood pressure rose, my heart beat faster, and I could feel the heat all vet my body. I was a walking alarm clock. I mean…it was absolutely clear when I was triggered. Oddly enough, My mind was not on the same page most the time. My mind and my body didn’t match. It’s hard to explain. Only now that I understand the neuroscience behind it I understand the the amygdala was in control while my cortex was always late to the show. That we will save for another day.

I think at this point….it’s all I need to say. It’s kind of all I have to say too. I don’t live those experiences very day. I remember them and mostly I remember them as if they didn’t happen to me but are a part of me. It’s hard to explain but I am not emotionally attached to the experiences. I have overcome. i am not a victim. I am strong, resilient, and …. I’m not the abuse that happened to me. But I will say that this show brought things to my attention I have not thought about in years. The smell, the situation, the scene as it plays out in my head…it’s still very fresh in these moments of remembrance. They fade with time but the major series of abuse started with that first moment that will forever be etched in my mind. It’s as if all the others before it were minor..NOTHING…meniscal to that first moment I felt myself floating away. It’s still very upsetting because i can feel my face real in that moment I stopped fighting and I let go of my soul. It’s something many will struggle to find again, others will never know, and the rest will refuse to ever lose again.

Abuse is not okay. If you or someone you know is or has been in a situation as such…please reach out. If people don’t listen…go to someone else! There’s always hope! Even if you lost hope in that moment and years later you are struggling to find yourself again…THERE’S HOPE! Reach out…contact me…text me. I am here. You are not alone and you can over come. You don’t have to be an empty shell. you don’t have to be a victim any longer. You can break free and find for smile again. Know that I am with you. I understand and you are strong! Sending much love and compassion.

J. Piper, MS, LCDC, CCATP, Coach