I am one of the lucky ones, I was blessed with an amazing man, who loves and supports me. I do not know if it has to do with the fact that he himself is also a survivor rape victim.
I cannot remember at what age I began to be molested. I cannot remember who? I know that it had to be from such a young age, because my first sexual recollection was of me masterbating myself probably around six or seven, I know at that age, a child doesn’t just masterbate. It might be that my molester is someone so close that my mind still does not allow me to remember.
Molestation, became a part of my life, my first actual memory of being molested was at about age 8, I remember riding in the night with family friends in he back of the wagon, while the adults were in the first rows, the children were sent all the way to the back. My molester was a teenager, he couldn’t have been more than 12 or 13.
It took so much for me to allow a man to touch me sexually. I was 19 when I had my first sexual consensual encounter, I did not know if I was a virgin or not. ”He” said I was, because when he touched my vagina I jumped, but then again I had never been touched anywhere sexually with my consent.
He was good to me, and a nice man, he accepted, me with my trauma. Until, he decided to drug me and rape me, about a week before we could have sex, when I was recovering after I had had his child.
I think the fact that it was him, made it more painful to me. He knew of my pain, and my struggle, He crumbled the little faith that he had helped me build in mankind, in love. He was no longer ever able to touch me because I lost complete faith and trust in him. I would not even take a glass of water from him even if I saw him serve it.
I began a struggle that took many years to deal with, because I did not want to tell anyone, I told maybe one or two people, but I don’t know if they even believed me.
When God blessed me by sending my husband my way, it took a year and many conversations, besides getting to know each others life and sad story to realize, that God, does save the best for last, I always tell my husband, that God, was preparing us all that time, to be with each other, because he wanted for us to recognize “real” love when he finally put us in each others way.
I was so happy, so at peace, I never ever thought it was possible for this kind of peace and happiness to exist, never in a million years did I think “it” would come and bite me in the ass with as happy as I was. Oh but It did, when I least expected it.
I was in my 8th month of pregnancy, with my youngest daughter, my first born daughter was around seven years old at the time.
Something, unexpected happened to me in that last month of pregnancy, I wasn’t sexually attracted to my husband anymore, just like that from one day to the next. It was harsh because we were very sexually active, we were still honeymooning you could say.
I blamed it on being so close to giving birth. After the birth, months went by and I blamed it on being exhausted because I did not sleep much. As time kept going by, I still had no reason, but I was still completely and utterly not sexually attracted to him, I knew I adored him and that I wanted to be married, and grow old with him, but with out the sex.
I actually found myself giving in to having sex with him, out of guilt for not being the wife he deserved. I felt ashamed for not wanting to perform my “wife duties”. It became such a strain in our life.
He was always grumpy, I was always besides myself, I continued to permit the sexual encounters, until I realized one day I was crying right after. I found I was starting to loath having my husband whom I loved so much even touch me.
Sex made me angry. I began to openly express my disgust over people touching and kissing in public, specially kissing, which I began to find repulsing. It became so bad that when my husband would kiss me I would hide and wipe my mouth and rinse right after, and it made me so angry.
One day during a conversation with a lady whom would come see my daughters’ growth progress, I was asked, what it was that I wanted as a mother for my daughters, for their life, for their future? I said something along the line of… their happiness.
I wanted them to be self sufficient, and happy women who would also be kind, sweet human beings. I wanted them to know that they did not need to depend on any one person other than themselves to be happy, to be brave, outstanding, and to know they are worthy of love and happiness not because someone loved them but because they loved themselves.
She said that was such a beautiful, wonderful thing to say. She also asked me why I said that? With out realizing what came out of my mouth I said, because I did not know better, because no one taught me that and all I learned to do was hate myself, for all that had happened to me. I felt I did not deserve, better, because bad things and bad people kept hurting my soul.
I did not realize I had a choice, and that now that I was a mother, I had to better than mine had. I had to be on the look out, I had to be aware and protect my girls so that they would not find themselves in my same position.
I did not realize I blamed my own mother for much of what had happened to me if not for almost all, I could not bear the thought of knowing that I had allowed my girls to be hurt like I was. It would completely devastate me.
That day I realized, I unexpectedly and to my utter amazement, that I had been punishing my self and my husband for that matter. My brain somehow, decided that I had to stop being a wife, and I had to devote myself to being a mother, what must have triggered it, was my daughter turning the age in which it might have all started with me.
Although I realized, understood, and then was brave enough to share it with my husband, which amazingly still loved and thought I was wort sticking with; It was not over, I thought that realizing this should magically “fix” me.
These people, and those who do not understand and respect rape, do not realize this haunts you for the rest of your life, it does not define you or who you become if you don’t allow it, however, it stays with you until the day you die. It’s like being branded, someone takes a piece of you and leaves a never disappearing scar, sometimes a visible one, sometimes a scar that you hide from the world, but inside, in the depth of your being, you can be taken back, transported to that exact moment with a scent, with a song, a voice, a movie, you name it, and once again, that soulless excuse for a human being takes over again, control over you, over you peace, your happiness.
That has been the hardest for me, Because, it’s not just the rape, it’s also the molestation, which made it only worse, because I live with the daughter of the “man ” who scarred me the deepest and I won’t even tell her that her amazingly wonderful “perfect” loving daddy did this to her own baby girl. I will not destroy the memory she has of the loving, wonderful father she remembers with so much love and respect…..
It’s been over seven years since my husbands struggle began with my pain, since, I began causing him pain. I wonder, if anyone, has spoken out for them, you know the wonderful beings that love us so much and stick through it all with us even though we make them our victims.
I have so much respect for those who do continue to love us unconditionally, I thank God, and my husband, for helping me find the truth, little by little; the struggle continues, and I suspect it always will.
You were given a gift, when you decided to speak out and share your story. You inspire many many of us, and it’s because God, has touched your heart, so that through you, your story and work, “He” can console, and reach out to us letting us know the pain is real, and it’s fine to feel it.
Through you, he is letting us know that together we can survive our pain, and relearn to love life and living it.