i rape myself (from my BPD post)
realization???? could THIS be how it was????
not sure which is scarier - the idea that i was broken BEFORE hand, the idea that i could have hid it from myself or the idea that my brain could have lied to me, telling me things happened physically that maybe possibly only occurred emotionally????
i have always felt like a rape victim. (and i do NOT in anyway shape or form pretend to know exactly what one feels like when she is raped - i just know my life and my experiences). i couldn't watch General's Daughter, Law and Order SVU (when it first aired), etc. i felt this odd related sense of shared trauma with rape victims since i can remember.
when i was in high school, the summer before my sophomore year, i was invited to a party. the party was hosted by my then boyfriend's EX girlfriend. her intention, i later learned, was to get him to go back to her IN FRONT OF ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. the more she flirted the more i drank. i had only a few beers but for me back then, as an innocent 15 year old, that was enough for me. i wasn't drunk but i was a little sloppy.
she told me she was going to get him back and that i would have to watch.
i was a silent MORON then and just said nothing. he didn't seem into her but i truly didn't trust for one second that if i turned my back he wouldn't leave me.
i went outside for air and three guys i kinda knew were there asking me if i was ok. they said they wanted to get beer they left in someone's back yard and the walk would do me good. two of them were popular, one of them older and cool (i then thought)... so i went. i cried the entire walk and they told me i was better than the boyfriend and his fat ex... and just as the tears started to dry on my cheeks, they stopped walking. jim said something about going down on him. i recall saying something about never doing it before and i was afraid. he said something about he wanted it and i had to do it. all i can remember about that particular moment was this strange alien sense of leaving myself. i felt myself kneel in front of him but i watched myself from somewhere else. i focused on the cotton of his t-shirt, the coolness of the grass, how the stars looked beyond the big green trees. i felt nothing he did to me other than a strong, vomit-like awareness that i wasn't giving consent yet was being filled and sullied anyway. that my soul was screaming NO and my mind was humming some distracting lullaby and my body was thinking - ok, let's get this over with... he'll hurt you if you struggle.
i remember donnie taking his turn but he left my mouth alone and found something under my shorts he liked better. i remember feeling IT cry and burn just as my eyes tried but could not do. when it was time for danny to take his turn, i became animated by the same strange alien force - and tried to make myself participate... they can't hurt me if i like it; if i want it.... they can't steal from me what i willing give, i remember thinking... danny walked me back and apologized the entire way... even he knew what i couldn't say.... STOP STOP NO NO STOP STOP NO.... he did it because they did it and like me, he seemed ashamed and disgusted.
but when i recalled that evening, i recalled screaming NO and STOP. i recalled ripping of clothes and skin and the feel of blood down my thighs. i remember the sky and the stars that stared but did nothing; the trees that tried to cover their view.... i wore a johns hopkins lacrosse tshirt and i remember it broken open like my legs... the innocent family vacation that led to the purchase of that tshirt fell out of me with the blood tears shed from the corner of my mouth. i thought he hit me but in dreams i learned that i bit my gums and tongue while trying to fight the sudden disgusting salty invasion in my once kind, pure mouth.
i gagged and he laughed.
i somewhere in the back of my mind made it into some physically violent rape because it was easier to explain the pain if you saw it then if i had to try to describe to you my insides. i wanted it physical because then you would know that i didn't want it.... that my heart was screaming STOOOOPPPPPPPPP PLEEEEEASEEEEEEEE!
so i pretended even to myself for years that my PTSD - Rape Trauma Syndrome, dissociative, whoreishness was because of THAT night... i tried to ignore and intellectualize the quickness in which i fell into dissociation - that it could not have possibly been ALREADY a part of me...
something happened before that summer night - i soon realized.
something taught me to give in and not fight -
that they will hurt you less if you give them access.
something made me able to fly above myself that night.
but what?
i flew away and in turn raped myself. i let it happen and then ran away when it did... but i came back into the body after it was sore... i went back to the party and let them talk to me like i was trash.
cuz i was.
i was before that night
and i confirmed it that night.
and then every night thereafter.
i was dirty and worth nothing -
and had been entered, played with, tricked and ashamed before.
not sure which is scarier - the idea that i was broken BEFORE hand, the idea that i could have hid it from myself or the idea that my brain could have lied to me, telling me things happened physically that maybe possibly only occurred emotionally????
i have always felt like a rape victim. (and i do NOT in anyway shape or form pretend to know exactly what one feels like when she is raped - i just know my life and my experiences). i couldn't watch General's Daughter, Law and Order SVU (when it first aired), etc. i felt this odd related sense of shared trauma with rape victims since i can remember.
when i was in high school, the summer before my sophomore year, i was invited to a party. the party was hosted by my then boyfriend's EX girlfriend. her intention, i later learned, was to get him to go back to her IN FRONT OF ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. the more she flirted the more i drank. i had only a few beers but for me back then, as an innocent 15 year old, that was enough for me. i wasn't drunk but i was a little sloppy.
she told me she was going to get him back and that i would have to watch.
i was a silent MORON then and just said nothing. he didn't seem into her but i truly didn't trust for one second that if i turned my back he wouldn't leave me.
i went outside for air and three guys i kinda knew were there asking me if i was ok. they said they wanted to get beer they left in someone's back yard and the walk would do me good. two of them were popular, one of them older and cool (i then thought)... so i went. i cried the entire walk and they told me i was better than the boyfriend and his fat ex... and just as the tears started to dry on my cheeks, they stopped walking. jim said something about going down on him. i recall saying something about never doing it before and i was afraid. he said something about he wanted it and i had to do it. all i can remember about that particular moment was this strange alien sense of leaving myself. i felt myself kneel in front of him but i watched myself from somewhere else. i focused on the cotton of his t-shirt, the coolness of the grass, how the stars looked beyond the big green trees. i felt nothing he did to me other than a strong, vomit-like awareness that i wasn't giving consent yet was being filled and sullied anyway. that my soul was screaming NO and my mind was humming some distracting lullaby and my body was thinking - ok, let's get this over with... he'll hurt you if you struggle.
i remember donnie taking his turn but he left my mouth alone and found something under my shorts he liked better. i remember feeling IT cry and burn just as my eyes tried but could not do. when it was time for danny to take his turn, i became animated by the same strange alien force - and tried to make myself participate... they can't hurt me if i like it; if i want it.... they can't steal from me what i willing give, i remember thinking... danny walked me back and apologized the entire way... even he knew what i couldn't say.... STOP STOP NO NO STOP STOP NO.... he did it because they did it and like me, he seemed ashamed and disgusted.
but when i recalled that evening, i recalled screaming NO and STOP. i recalled ripping of clothes and skin and the feel of blood down my thighs. i remember the sky and the stars that stared but did nothing; the trees that tried to cover their view.... i wore a johns hopkins lacrosse tshirt and i remember it broken open like my legs... the innocent family vacation that led to the purchase of that tshirt fell out of me with the blood tears shed from the corner of my mouth. i thought he hit me but in dreams i learned that i bit my gums and tongue while trying to fight the sudden disgusting salty invasion in my once kind, pure mouth.
i gagged and he laughed.
i somewhere in the back of my mind made it into some physically violent rape because it was easier to explain the pain if you saw it then if i had to try to describe to you my insides. i wanted it physical because then you would know that i didn't want it.... that my heart was screaming STOOOOPPPPPPPPP PLEEEEEASEEEEEEEE!
so i pretended even to myself for years that my PTSD - Rape Trauma Syndrome, dissociative, whoreishness was because of THAT night... i tried to ignore and intellectualize the quickness in which i fell into dissociation - that it could not have possibly been ALREADY a part of me...
something happened before that summer night - i soon realized.
something taught me to give in and not fight -
that they will hurt you less if you give them access.
something made me able to fly above myself that night.
but what?
i flew away and in turn raped myself. i let it happen and then ran away when it did... but i came back into the body after it was sore... i went back to the party and let them talk to me like i was trash.
cuz i was.
i was before that night
and i confirmed it that night.
and then every night thereafter.
i was dirty and worth nothing -
and had been entered, played with, tricked and ashamed before.