Chelsea
My story starts with a little background. A little background into a typical teenage girl is needed. It was peer pressure, gossip, the need to keep up, something. Something caused me to be someone I wasn’t, and make really bad decisions. I dated this one guy for a bit and lost my virginity to him, in which he turned around and left me for my best friend. That really hurt, and it really sucked. I isolated myself; I became so hateful and so vindictive. All I wanted was to take revenge on her. Most of all, I felt jaded. That is the main point here. I thought that was all I was good for now, that the territory was already marked and now it was any man’s land. That’s why it happened so easily.
I am only seventeen. I have a mangled home life in which I got verbally abused by my mother, and then there was the whole rest of the world to fight. I was lonely. I needed someone safe to date. Someone to hold me and tell me everything would be okay.
That is why I went back to my first boyfriend. He would be safe. He would be the one to be a gentleman and not use me. Except, LostVcard boy and Safeboy were in the army together, and they apparently talked. And in that, when we went to my house, he told me who he had talked to. He told me what he was told. I wasn’t even sure if I liked him. I was vulnerable. I only wanted to kiss. But then he made advancements. I would push him off and he’d urge me for more. He would tell me how if I didn’t let him go in, then I should do something else. He was leaving for two weeks, and he should get something. I said no, I didn’t want any of it. I still can’t have a guy turn away from me when they are being close. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not this time or the first time, but this time it was worse.
I said no, and it still happened.
I told a friend at school and she was concerned, but something in me felt ashamed. He bragged about it. He mocked me at every chance he got, making jokes and not caring how I felt about them. I left the school because of him.
But that wasn’t until after I dated another guy. He was the deepest devil of them all. He was the son of my mother’s friend. He had problems, many deep problems that he stifled away. On the first date I told him I would not do anything, so if he expected anything, he could go fly a kite.
Well, that wasn’t enough. He held me down the second date and said, “I respect you but…”
“But what? I asked
“But I need to get off.”
What kind of logic that was, I’ll never know. And I won’t ever try to understand because there’s no point in rattling my brain for something that isn’t there. I still kept going back. Why? I was lonely, I pushed away most of my friends. I thought that was all I was good for, and I guess I felt bad for him, maybe I could change him and things would be better.
One time, I remember so vividly… (and only as flashbacks)…. He made me walk home in the darkness of a trail … I am afraid of the dark and I hated it so much. He wouldn’t kiss me, either, just because I didn’t want to do anything with him. That lasted for over a month, and some things I still cannot stand because they remind me of them so much. It’s been hard, but I am going to counseling. I’ve taken time off school, but I am going back.
I’m gaining my life back. I’m going to be okay. I also want others to know it doesn’t have to change the rest of your life. This happened to me under a year ago, and I believe I am well on the way to recovery. Some days it’s been so bad that I’ve cut myself or have almost downed a bottle of pills, but it’s not always going to be easy. A man once said to me, “You’re never going to get closure, there is no such thing, it happened, and it’s not going to go away. I’m not saying that this is exactly like a break up, but the mind treats it the same way. Only time will give you the softening you need to be able to think of it with no bitterness, but you can’t shoot yourself in the foot because of it. You need to take you’re life back and start living it.” It sounded harsh at the time, but he saved my life with those words. I needed a push, something to make me fight. I had grown weak. But now, I’m stronger then I ever was.
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Chelsea blogs at Survive.
Editor’s note: The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255. The National Teen Dating Abuse Hotline is 1-866-331-9474. The National Sexual Assault Hotline is 1-800-656-HOPE (4673). There are additional numbers and websites listed on the Violence UnSilenced resource page. You are not alone, and no experience is too small.
My Sister Vicki
Her first memory became her second memory once they started coming back, a piece at a time.
The old first memory, in her words:
“My step father has brought me into the back part of the house that we used as a living room. I am maybe four years old, maybe younger. I am very happy, as the Monster is being nice to me. I have a dress on, black patent-leather shoes with buckles and white ankle socks with ruffles. The couch is plaid – brown, yellow, green. His hand is on my knee and he is rubbing my leg, smiling at me. I don’t remember him taking off my panties, but they are gone. I am not concerned, I am just happy he is not hitting me, he is not yelling at me, he is smiling at me and I feel safe for the first time in a long time. His hand is under my dress and he is rubbing me and I have this strange feeling in my belly.
Out of nowhere, the most tremendous blinding pain I have ever felt. I try to scream, I try to move. He has his hand over my mouth and is holding down. The pain is unbearable. He is smiling. I can’t breathe. The pain is excruciating. Am I dying? Is he finally killing me? What is he doing? Why is he hurting me like this? As suddenly as it started, it is over. He gets up and leaves the room and I curl up in a ball sobbing. He returns with a washrag and rolls me over on my back spreading my legs again. The rag is moist and cold, he wipes me. I lay there terrified the pain will start again. When I see the rag, it is covered in blood and still he is smiling.”
She ran away then, into the fields of purple flowers. She ran and ran, finally falling down into the tall grass. The sun went down, it got dark, and though she was afraid of the dark, she was more afraid of him. Later she hears voices calling her name. Her mother, her aunt, her brother. Her mother crying for her, she stands up and hollers “Mama!” Her mother runs to her, crying, saying “My baby is OK! My baby is OK!”
Back at the house, her mother asks her why she ran away. She tells her.
Her words:
“She slapped me so hard across the face that I was knocked several feet backwards and fell to the floor. She screamed at me, that I was a liar and sent me to my room. I sobbed, hurting from the pain in my bottom and the pain in my heart, knowing that I was going to die. He was going to kill me. There was no one to stop him. So I did what all good Christian girls did: I prayed to God that I would die in my sleep before morning.
That was the longest night of my life. Somewhere in the night I fell asleep. When I woke up, the Monster was smiling down at me once more. My heart was racing and I knew I was about to die and he just kept smiling. He puts one hand on either side of my head holding me down by my long brown hair, and smiling the whole time, he said, ‘She didn’t believe you, she never will and if you ever try to tell again I will kill you.’ Then, like nothing ever happened, he walks to the door, opens it, and calmly says, ‘Breakfast is ready when you are.’”
She later remembered a time in the car, when she was much smaller. Three, maybe, almost four. Her mother was asleep in the back. She was on his lap, “driving”, a policeman is yelling at her Daddy. “Where are your shoes? Why are your pants unzipped? What is going on here?” She had a little dress on. He hadn’t hurt her yet.
How did her mother sleep through the policeman, through the yelling? Or was she asleep at all?
Her words:
“After the first night when I was raped by my stepfather and ran away, two things happened. Because I had run away, a lock was placed on the outside of my door. Every night when I went to bed I was locked into my room. From then on, when mother passed out at night from her ‘nerve pills’ and alcohol, Monster was guaranteed easy access to me.”
The abuse came from her mother as well. She wasn’t “Vicki” anymore, she was “bitch, slut, liar, whore.” Any infraction of any kind was met with blunt force, blows to the head, back, ribs, whatever was closest. Her fingers were held over an open flame until the skin bubbled and blistered.
In a few years, it was not just Vicki who was being sexually tortured, it was her two brothers. And then the brother and sister that her mother had with the Monster.
When did it end?
You want to know how long it went on?
Vicki was fourteen years old when her stepfather finally went to prison for his crimes. A caring neighbor finally heard her, believed her, and confronted her mother. Her mother had the option to help provide evidence against him or be charged as an accomplice.
Perhaps worst of all, her mother did not leave the Monster. When the Monster got out of prison? He left HER.
Vicki is my sister.
Vicki is my hero.
Vicki has spent most of her life overcoming the most horrific kind of abuse imaginable and despite it, despite every bit of it – the foster care, the beatings, the years of alcohol and drug abuse to blur and erase the memories – she has not only survived, she has overcome. She has raised a son who is now in college. She was married to the love of her life until she lost him to a sudden heart attack. She is the strongest, most self-sufficient woman I have ever had the privilege to meet in my life.
I thank God for many things, but most often I thank Him for two things:
That Vicki is my sister. And that I? Was relinquished by her mother at birth to adoption.
My sister thanks God that I was given up for adoption. Which makes me weep.
I read the stories and support the survivors on VU on behalf of Vicki.
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Mary writes at Barnmaven’s Clean Shavings.
Melody
I had lived in there for 2 weeks when I met him.
I had just moved out of my parents’ house for the first time.
Living on my own.
So excited.
I met him at McDonald’s.
We dated for about a month.
I knew we weren’t going to work out.
He made me nervous.
Something just wasn’t right.
I had to go to his apartment to get some of my stuff.
I called to make sure his roommates would be there.
I didn’t want to be alone with him.
He said yes they would be there.
He didn’t lie.
They were there when I got there.
They were leaving.
My stuff was in his room.
He pushed me on the bed.
I said no.
I cried.
He took my pants off
I was on my period.
He didn’t let me take the tampon out.
He held my arms above my head.
I said no.
I cried.
He finished.
I got dressed.
He said he hoped I hadn’t given him any diseases.
I got my stuff.
He walked me to my car.
He told me to call him.
I went to work.
I cried.
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Melody blogs at Tiggrrl’s Den.
Violence UnSilenced and the 2012 Blogger Body Calendar
We’ve got an exciting announcement: Blogger Body Calendar is back for 2012, and its organizers have chosen Violence UnSilenced as this year’s recipient of proceeds. The theme for 2012 is “Survivor and Strength.”
The Body Blogger Calendar was created last year by Amy Phillips and Alex Iwashyna to raise money and awareness for designated causes. Each month of the printed calendar features a different participating blogger interpreting that year’s particular theme. Calendars will be available for purchase; last year the proceeds from the Blogger Body Calendar went to NEDA, the National Eating Disorders Association, to support individuals and families affected by eating disorders.
“One of things that struck me about eating disorders is how violent it is,” writes Phillips. “It’s almost as if women are abusing themselves.”
She goes on to write,
“This year, all proceeds raised by the calendar will go to the people who run Violence UnSilenced to use to further their mission. We hope that every time you look at one of the pictures in the calendar you are reminded of the strength each one of us possesses. We have both survivors of violence in our calendar, and women who just want to show their support for women who suffer daily around the world.”
Although Violence UnSilenced has been in operation for more than two years, we have never before accepted a single penny from outside sources. The site was created and is maintained solely through volunteer time and resources, so that we can keep the focus on empowering survivors through speaking out. However, there are definitely certain administrative and legal costs associated with the site. Therefore, we will gladly accept the proceeds from the calendar with much, much gratitude.
Follow the Blogger Body Calendar on Twitter, or visit the website and Facebook page for continuing updates.
