We were 13 girls, I think, in our counselling class during my final year of college. One of the girls brought up the fact that she was sexually abused. Our counselling teacher asked us if any more girls were sexually abused. About 7 girls said they were. It was an intense and draining class. Most of us re-lived those moments..spoke of it between gasps of sobs. Some of the girls needed water, they were sobbing so hard that I almost thought their heart will burst out of their ribcage. I guess, repressed sadness is the worst kind of sadness.
I was the only girl who refused to speak that day. Despite fighting my tears away, I felt a few trickle down my cheeks. I had to close my mouth tightly with my hand lest I'd let a sob escape me. I could only see flashes of what had happened. I managed to bury that day and even forgot about it. That counselling class triggered something I've been trying to come to grips with ever since. I'm alright with sexual abuse, to tell you the truth. I believe it takes two people to mess it all up. I know I was a foolish, innocent girl who allowed it to happen to me. What hurts me is that fact that I'm just about managing to piece something that happened 4 years ago. I must've been so shocked that I hid it from myself. What's disappointing is that I'm unable to believe it happened to me - something so awful and I'm only just able to remember it!? Apalling.
I was 19. I remember how, all of a sudden, he was forcing himself onto me. I was telling him it was hurting me but he went on. I felt a strange wetness after a while and was scared it might be blood. I was told by my friends that the first time always hurts, but I was numbed into fright to feel it hurting this much. He started muttering obscenities at me - move your hips, goddammit. I was either crying, squirming, whimpering..I don't know. I thought I was going to die. This guy was supposed to be a friend, a nice guy, a fun guy..he was supposed to treat me nicely, like he did the past 10 days. Why was he hurting me? I kept telling him I'll scream, that he should stop, that it was hurting me. And what's disappointing is..that till recently, I remembered him having gotten off me when I told him those things. I've been telling a lie to myself.
I started re-living those moments when I saw his picture in a website. To my horror, I realized that I protected myself from what had actually happened that day. He did not get off me - he was humping me. He was saying disgusting things, he was pushing himself so hard against me that I was dripping weird stuff afterwards, he was rudely telling me to move my hips..he was saying mean things to me... Why did he do that? It was such a degrading experience. Getting up after he tumbled off me, grabbing my clothes quickly, cleaning myself with a pillow cover, jumping into my clothes. I remember I did the most humiliating thing in my life - I asked him to take me back home. I didn't know the way back home and relied on this beast to take me there.
It's not nice to have a guy force himself on you. It's not nice to recollect it all after so many years. It's a horrible experience to remember that you were so shocked that you pushed it right behind..so that no memory lane will lead you there. It made me want to hug that perturbed 19 year old and tell her it's okay. Do you know, till now I forgot the most important part. He wasn't wearing a condom. I could've caught an STD. Luckily, I didn't.
It was around the same age that my new boyfriend was hurting me. His idea of love was to show it on the body. He liked to bite - 'to leave a mark'. After a couple of years, I showed some of those marks to a friend of mine. She was horrified. I had bruises everywhere. It looked like some animal had bitten me wherever it could find enough skin to bite into. I was so ashamed. More than that, I was scared to tell him that I didn't like it. I was so scared he'd get angry and fight with me. I was even more scared that he'd break up with me. So when he used to bite me I used to close my eyes and bite my own palm to keep from screaming. If I couldn't take the pain anymore I used to tell him he was tickling me and he needs to stop. When there were tears trickling down..I told him it was because of the laughter. It was my friend who told me that it's not normal for a guy to 'leave his mark' like that. When I told him the truth, it was the ugliest fight we ever had.
It's not fair that no one told me about these things. It's not fair that I've gotto take care of myself all by myself. It's not fair that I get judged about these things. It's not fair that sexual abuse is overhyped and, therefore, a girl loses any understanding she might deserve. It's not fair that when I happen to bring it up with a friend s/he is too surprised to actually ask me anything about it. It's not fair that just because I don't make it sound like a big deal, it's not a big deal. It's not fair that since I know it took two people to mess it up, that you assume I'm cool with it.
But most of all, it's not fair that all of this hits me when I'm, literally and otherwise, alone.
I was the only girl who refused to speak that day. Despite fighting my tears away, I felt a few trickle down my cheeks. I had to close my mouth tightly with my hand lest I'd let a sob escape me. I could only see flashes of what had happened. I managed to bury that day and even forgot about it. That counselling class triggered something I've been trying to come to grips with ever since. I'm alright with sexual abuse, to tell you the truth. I believe it takes two people to mess it all up. I know I was a foolish, innocent girl who allowed it to happen to me. What hurts me is that fact that I'm just about managing to piece something that happened 4 years ago. I must've been so shocked that I hid it from myself. What's disappointing is that I'm unable to believe it happened to me - something so awful and I'm only just able to remember it!? Apalling.
I was 19. I remember how, all of a sudden, he was forcing himself onto me. I was telling him it was hurting me but he went on. I felt a strange wetness after a while and was scared it might be blood. I was told by my friends that the first time always hurts, but I was numbed into fright to feel it hurting this much. He started muttering obscenities at me - move your hips, goddammit. I was either crying, squirming, whimpering..I don't know. I thought I was going to die. This guy was supposed to be a friend, a nice guy, a fun guy..he was supposed to treat me nicely, like he did the past 10 days. Why was he hurting me? I kept telling him I'll scream, that he should stop, that it was hurting me. And what's disappointing is..that till recently, I remembered him having gotten off me when I told him those things. I've been telling a lie to myself.
I started re-living those moments when I saw his picture in a website. To my horror, I realized that I protected myself from what had actually happened that day. He did not get off me - he was humping me. He was saying disgusting things, he was pushing himself so hard against me that I was dripping weird stuff afterwards, he was rudely telling me to move my hips..he was saying mean things to me... Why did he do that? It was such a degrading experience. Getting up after he tumbled off me, grabbing my clothes quickly, cleaning myself with a pillow cover, jumping into my clothes. I remember I did the most humiliating thing in my life - I asked him to take me back home. I didn't know the way back home and relied on this beast to take me there.
It's not nice to have a guy force himself on you. It's not nice to recollect it all after so many years. It's a horrible experience to remember that you were so shocked that you pushed it right behind..so that no memory lane will lead you there. It made me want to hug that perturbed 19 year old and tell her it's okay. Do you know, till now I forgot the most important part. He wasn't wearing a condom. I could've caught an STD. Luckily, I didn't.
It was around the same age that my new boyfriend was hurting me. His idea of love was to show it on the body. He liked to bite - 'to leave a mark'. After a couple of years, I showed some of those marks to a friend of mine. She was horrified. I had bruises everywhere. It looked like some animal had bitten me wherever it could find enough skin to bite into. I was so ashamed. More than that, I was scared to tell him that I didn't like it. I was so scared he'd get angry and fight with me. I was even more scared that he'd break up with me. So when he used to bite me I used to close my eyes and bite my own palm to keep from screaming. If I couldn't take the pain anymore I used to tell him he was tickling me and he needs to stop. When there were tears trickling down..I told him it was because of the laughter. It was my friend who told me that it's not normal for a guy to 'leave his mark' like that. When I told him the truth, it was the ugliest fight we ever had.
It's not fair that no one told me about these things. It's not fair that I've gotto take care of myself all by myself. It's not fair that I get judged about these things. It's not fair that sexual abuse is overhyped and, therefore, a girl loses any understanding she might deserve. It's not fair that when I happen to bring it up with a friend s/he is too surprised to actually ask me anything about it. It's not fair that just because I don't make it sound like a big deal, it's not a big deal. It's not fair that since I know it took two people to mess it up, that you assume I'm cool with it.
But most of all, it's not fair that all of this hits me when I'm, literally and otherwise, alone.
