A hard read TW

There was a man I had a huge crush on when I was about 19 years old. We went mud bogging (redneck backwoods kind of thing) in a jeep with another guy. We were covered in mud. We were in a jeep and bouncing all around spinning mud all over ourselves. It was so fun. I hoped the guy liked me. His name was Roger. I had a mad crush on this guy. Later that night he invited me back to his place with his friend J and everyone had beers and watched TV.

* I cannot proof read this for errors due to my vision being blurred because of forgetting to take my seizure medication on time. Please overlook the typos and any misprint as I am only typing but unable to read the words I am writing

In the middle of all of us watching TV J just hoisted me over his shoulder and took me in the bedroom. There were no sheets on the bed. J was someone that every girl on earth wanted to date. He was gorgeous. He was sought after. I didn’t want anything to do with him though. I wanted to actually date Roger. J took me in the room and took all my clothes off and had sex with me. This was so closely after all of the abuse and dissociation that I don’t recall anything about the experience except the pattern on the bed with no sheets. I kept looking at it and tracing my finger around the flower pattern and the stitching. It was as if nothing was happening. I remember I was wearing this snap at the crotch tank top thing with a shirt and jeans over it. I remember that every day after that I wore layers and still do because it was far to easy to unsnap that snap. While J was having sex with me, Roger came in the room. I stood there and watched. I had my head turned to him looking at him. I thought he would do something or say something. He didn’t. He just closed the door. I didn’t want him to close the door. After J was done with me he got up and left. I got dressed and walked out into the room with the guys drinking and watching tv and no one even looked at me. I walked out thinking..well nothing.

I recall this event because I received an email notification that I had been Facebook friended by J. This could not come at a worse time. I am not using facebook for one. And I need no other memories. I have plenty.

Last night I watched a movie where a girl was raped. In the end the rapist was murdered and vengeance or justice or whatever you want to call it was served. The movie left me unsettled. No one EVER stood up for me, fought for me, did anything in regards of even speaking up for me. Nothing! No fight. All the fight I have done has been on my own. It left me wondering how I would have handled J and all of the other men who have taken advantage of me, used me, and abused me, had just one person shown me that NO we will FIGHT for you!

I was a child. I could not fight for myself. I grew up and still could not as a teenager fight for myself. Whether out of not wanting conflict, not wanting to cause a scene, not living in a society where it is appropriate to fight for a victim, I’ve heard ever reason for not standing up for me but never actually known how it feels to be stood up for.

I literally have no idea how it feels to stand and watch someone fight for me. Not just in violence but in words in stance in action or even in presence. My life has been full of passive when it comes to the crimes committed against me.

In this movie they used the word rape. At one point the good guy gets the bad guy to admit, yeah, I raped her. And I thought all day about this and even more so after the memory of J. That word rape. Just that word. A 4 letter word. Shouldn’t it be a 20 letter word. I mean, lets see, destruction, devastation, catastrophe, catastrophic, abomination, monstrosity. Can we not name what is done to us something more than just a 4 letter word that no one even knows really the GRAVITY of what it means.

I woke up this morning wishing no men even had penises. I was sick of them. Sick of their power and how they use that power to penetrate a woman in a space that was meant to have a child and create life and yet they use their penis to violate and destroy all the beauty. Then I realized that one of the men that harmed me didn’t even use his penis at all. He caused probably the most harm and no penis was even involved. Men with their power and their control, I cannot stand it. And the damage that is done should be more than just a tiny word that is rape. Why do men get to do this. Why do men get to get away with it. Why are there no vigilantes. Why is the law there to protect the guilty. Why is there no justice.

I have to many why’s. in reality I just want it all to go away. Most days I wish I were dead so I had no more memories of these men and what they have done to me and the after affects that I live with.

Here I am trying my best to find joy and beauty and love in the world and fight this fight and at the end of the day it can take the tiniest thing to make me wish I didn’t have to wake up tomorrow. All because of man. What man does. And for that matter the women who follow like my own mother.

I keep going back to a comment that was written on my blog about the sandhill crane protecting her baby and that really touched my heart and it made me realize too that was it really too much to ask for just anyone to stand over me and protect me. Every single time a man hurt me there was an opportunity to save me. Every time. But no one did. I feel, unvindicated. I guess that is not a word.

I know facing my abuser doesn’t fix anything and therapy has not taken away the parts of me that were violated. Allowing myself to feel has not fixed anything. Denying my feelings has done nothing. Finding joy has not fixed me.

I am in a boat and it is sinking and I just want one person to swim out to me and paddle for me. One person that will scoop up the water that is filling the boat and paddle me home.

Yesterday I reconnected with an old friend. What I did not say is that this friend is the one whose husband assaulted me 11 years ago and this is why I have not seen her. The reconciliation was needed. The closure was needed. Driving up to her house took me 3 times before I could walk to that front door because of the memories of what her husband did to me. But forgivness and closure and love were the most important thing for her and me. He is no longer in the picture. But i was reminded of him.

I am reminded of all of the men who took pieces of me that were not theirs to take. They took them by manipulation, by grooming, by knowing I was easy prey due to past abuse, took them by force. They took. And days like today I feel all of them and wish I could make them go away. But there they are on facebook. There they are living out their lives with their kids and new wives and fresh lives. Even my own parents living their lives like the ravaging and rape and savagery of my body didn’t take place and does not matter.

Today it all matters.

14 thoughts on “A hard read TW

  1. I’m so sorry no one was there to save you. My heart breaks for the pain you have felt. Let us be the ones that see the struggles of others and reach out to do that which was never done for us. I hope only peace for you.


    1. Thank you. That is my hope. To love others and help others who have no one and need an advocate.we can make a difference and turn this tragedy into at least one choice to help another who is hurting.
      Thank you for your kindness

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I am angry that this happens too often. Young men need better role models. We need to be clear with young men this is unacceptable. The attack takes the humanity out of the man. His abuse robs him of his humanity/decency that permits him to carry out this violence. Even if he had a speck of compassion he would not do this. Thank you for having the courage to speak out. Us men have alot of work ahead of us to change our behavior.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Bethany, my darling( something prompts me to write that),
    I loved the post. It touched my heart. These people, with or without their things, cannot and have not hurt you- your soul is still the same as the 19 year old’s. You are and were innocent. No one has power over you except yourself. You have taken control of your life through blogging and other things that you do. You are a very strong woman. I like the tone of the post as there was so much positivity there. As for people who want to friend you or not, there is no good answer.
    But you are out of it and you are above everything that happened to you.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. My heart is breaking for you. Yes it is hard to read but had to reply. I remember what I was wearing the first time too. Every time it happened to me a woman did it too. She instigated it. Which is why I don’t trust anyone at all. It does seem like mostly men though. They did what they and you are still a beautiful woman. They took pieces of you but still left the best and you survived. I survive now too. I had many years of therapy. I am sorry nobody was there to save you that first time. It might have made a difference with your other experiences. Hugs for you x

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I am so sorry this happened to you. It happened to me once by a girl and I think that was one of my breaking points as a child that there was no one I could trust.
      I’m thankful for my husband now,truly the only man I do trust

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Luv you Bethany … am saddened that you were hurting … this pain has become your compassion for others … I know you sure were there for me… the only one who had ever told Robert no… if… I were your mother … or someone who was there… police would have been called.., heads would have rolled… precious girl… I am sorry … truly sorry … it should never have happened … ever… sometimes that which is ugly comes to steal from that which holds beauty.. to destroy … you have continued to do several things, you have fought like a mother for others… and held pearls of beauty in your hands … your walks… your poems… your pictures defy anyone to steal what God has given … beauty on your soul… beauty on your cheeks… loveliness becomes you… hugs…

    Liked by 1 person

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