*** This post contains graphic material regarding real events. It may be a trigger to some who have gone through the same hardships. Reader discretion is advised. ***
I have been meaning to write about this for a long time now. I was always scared to put it in words. I didn't know what to say or how to say it. I worried about what others would think if they ever read it. I am in a better place now, much better, and I feel strong enough to write about what I have been through. After discussing it with Kyle and having his blessing, I am ready to use my writing as a catharsis for something that happened to me 5 years ago.
I used to be very outgoing. I used to have lots of friends and I wasn't afraid to introduce myself to strangers. I was open and happy to meet new people. Unfortunately, that was somewhat of a factor in what happened.
In August of 2011, I was raped.
It's a bit of a long story, but I believe it needs to be told. Not only for my own well being but maybe someone, somewhere needs to read what I have to say.
My friends and I often spent our summer days at a local water park. On one occasion, there was a good looking boy in the wave pool and I, with one of my friends, decided to introduce myself. We got his name and later that day looked him up on Facebook. His name was pretty common so I'm surprised we actually found the right account but we did. I messaged him back and forth for a while and before long, a few of his friends added me on Facebook, too. I talked to them as well and ended up really taking a liking to one of his friends in particular. For all intents and purposes, lets say his name was Bob. Bob and I started messaging one another back and forth and eventually moved to texting each other. We'd be communicating all day, getting to know one another and flirting like the teenagers we were. Bob lived about 15 minutes from me but we had not met in person.
After a few weeks of texting, Bob and I were eager to meet for the first time. Knowing my parents wouldn't approve of me going on a date with Bob (seeing as I was only 15 at the time) I decided to invite him to a Back-to-School church dance. Bob agreed to go and we were both excited to spend time together, finally.
I got a ride with some friends to the dance and knew that Bob was going to drive himself and meet me there. Bob was 18 at the time.
Bob texted me as soon as he had arrived at the dance. It was held outside in a park with a pavilion lit up. It was mostly dark but I went to where Bob said he had parked and we hugged and walked back to the dance together.
We stayed for about an hour and a half. We danced and had a good time together. I introduced him to a few of my friends there and I thought I had found my prince charming. After a while, though, I was ready to go someplace we could just talk and get to know each other better, in person. Bob offered to drive me home so I agreed. I found my friend that had given me a ride to the dance and let her know that I wouldn't be needing a ride home. She thanked me for letting her know and told us to have fun, then was back to the dance while Bob and I left.
When we got to my neighborhood, I realized I had a little while before I needed to be home for curfew which was 11 PM at the time. I suggested to Bob that we go and talk in a field across the street from my parent's house. He agreed and we walked from his car together toward a spot near a few trees.
I sat down and Bob sat next to me. We held hands (I liked him, after all, and he reciprocated the feelings) and started talking. It was innocent and only made me like him more.
Then, he kissed me.
Sure, it was great. The cute boy I liked had just kissed me. I thought it was everything I wanted.
Then, he kissed me some more.
He didn't stop and I wasn't sure how to tell him to. Somewhere along the line, he was getting undressed and undressing me as well. I went numb. This was not the way I envisioned the night going and it was not something I had ever planned on, not like this.
I can't remember much about what happened after that and before I was upstairs in my room, crying on my bed. The thing that I do remember, though, was the actual act of the rape. Prior to this day, I had no idea that intercourse actually meant intercourse. It shocked me both physically and emotionally.
After the rape, Bob walked me to his car with his arm around me. He said this would be our secret. I don't remember what I said, if anything. I was numb.
I walked inside my parent's house and walked upstairs to my room. I sat on my bed and cried. I cried and cried and cried. What had I done?
There was something leaking so I went to the restroom only to find that I was bleeding, somewhat heavily. I thought it was just my period starting but I still felt so broken. I felt worthless. I didn't know what had just happened and I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I was naked with a boy out of wedlock and that was a sin so I was a sinner. I was going to Hell.
I sat back on my bed and continued to cry after I changed into my pajamas. I cried and prayed and cried some more. I don't remember falling asleep that night but I remember all the tears that stained my pillow.
The next morning was a blur. I was still numb. I got ready to go to church and tried to act normal around my mom and dad. I remember sitting in Sacrament meeting, crying throughout it. My mom asked if I was alright and I told her I was fine, just overcome with emotion. She didn't think much of it, it wasn't abnormal for me to be moved by the speakers during Sacrament meeting so she probably assumed that's why I was crying.
I don't remember the rest of the day at church or the time I was at home. I cried. That's all I remember.
That night, around 11 PM, I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't keep it in and I needed to tell my mom. The problem was, though, that I didn't know how to say it. I didn't really know what happened so all I could say was "I was naked with a boy last night." Not knowing the circumstances or the full story, my mom was furious. She thought that I had done so willingly and that I had chosen to commit this sin. She went in to her room and told my dad who had already gone to sleep for the night. She came back out and told me how upset he was as well but that he couldn't handle it tonight. She was angry with me and told me to go to my room.
I did. I cried myself to sleep once more.
My mom had a talk with me the following morning. She told me I was grounded until further notice and that I would need to talk to my father about this. Again, I felt worthless and told myself I was going to Hell. I was a sinner, wasn't I? That's what I thought.
Thankfully, I don't remember much of what happened the night I was raped and I don't remember much of the days that followed. I do remember, however, that it was a long time before I could talk to my dad. I had failed him as a daughter and I didn't know how I could ever regain his trust. Things stayed that way for a while.
Until my brother, Treis, came clean about some things.
He had been struggling with demons of his own and had finally been completely transparent with my mom and dad, telling them exactly what had happened with him. Seeing him have the strength to talk to my parents that way gave me strength too.
While we were sitting in her room one day, I told my mom I needed to talk to her. I explained to her that the boy I was naked with had forced me in to it. I didn't know what was going on and I didn't know what was happening to me. After giving her the details, my mom realized that I had been violated. It was not by my choice that this event occurred, she realized that I was raped.
In the following months, my mom and dad did all that they could to track down Bob and get me the help that I needed. I had to go see a social worker and re-live the rape all over again as I gave her details. I hated it. I didn't like having to tell someone what happened to me, let alone a stranger. I knew it needed to be done, though, so I did what I could.
The court approved funding for me to get counseling. I saw a counselor a few times but again, re-living the rape and feeling forced in to talking to her didn't help me at all. I haven't seen the counselor in over 3 years and I don't plan on going back to her. For me, talking about what happened did not make it better and imagining it definitely only made it worse.
Being raped changed me. When I started school again for my sophomore year, I didn't want to introduce myself to anyone. I didn't want to do my homework or study. I wasn't myself at all. I went from being a straight A student to getting C's and even failing classes. Honestly, I am so grateful for my mom. Without her, I probably wouldn't have graduated high school and I mean that. She is the one that encouraged me and went to bat for me over a silly .25 credit I needed to graduate. I couldn't have done it without her.
Since I wasn't myself, I didn't realize my self worth. I dated some stupid guys who didn't treat me as well as they should have. I didn't let people hug me or have any physical contact with me unless I was the one who decided it was okay. Even after being told it wasn't my fault, it still somehow felt like it was.
Was it what I wore that night? I wore jeans and a new blouse I had purchased for the upcoming school year. Sure, it had a design on the back and showed a little of my shoulders but nothing near revealing. It couldn't have been that. I must have just been an easy target since I had fallen for Bob so fast and followed his lead. He was older, after all, and I didn't know him very well despite talking quite often. It was the first time I had ever seen him in person and this happened to me.
Before I was raped, I thought it was ridiculous that rapes were even a "thing". How could someone not like what was happening to them? Wasn't sex supposed to be a pleasure? I didn't understand how anyone could ever let that happen. Wouldn't they just say no and leave? Wouldn't they stand up for themselves? As a survivor, I can tell you that in the moment of the rape, it's nearly impossible to move. Even if you can move or find the words to say, the perpetrator doesn't listen. Saying "No" or "Stop" doesn't help. A predator will chose it's prey wisely and never worry about them fighting back.
Looking back on it now, I ask myself and wonder why I didn't just get up and go home. I wonder why I didn't have the mental or physical capacity to leave. It all goes back to what I've been saying; I was numb. I couldn't have done those things. I was scared. I didn't know Bob very well. I didn't know if he would hurt me if I tried to leave. I didn't know what would happen if I fought back.
In the last 5 years, I have changed.
I opened back up a little bit. I got a Tinder account and that's ultimately how I met my husband, Kyle. I was very cautious using Tinder, though. When meeting anyone from the app, I drove myself to where we agreed to meet. I told my parents where I was going and when I would be home. I kept the GPS on my phone turned on so my parents could check on me. I picked public, well populated areas and only areas with plenty of light. I had my guard up for a good reason.
Kyle was different. Kyle asked permission to put his arm around me on our first date. That showed me how much of a gentleman he was and made me trust him a little bit more than I would trust the other Tinder guys. After spending lots of time together and building the trust even more, I felt comfortable and safe with Kyle. He never hurt me. He respected me and still does. I knew that I could trust him and after much prayer, I knew he was the man I was to marry.
Now, it's been about 2 years since I met Kyle. In that time, we got engaged, married, and had our first child together. We have a humble home and cars that run. We have a roof over our heads and food in the fridge. We have a beautiful daughter together.
Because of what happened to me, I am cautious around new people. I don't trust easily and if you break my trust, I can assure you it will be a long time until I ever trust you again, if at all. I'm anxious 99% of the time about a lot of different things. I prefer to go to self-checkouts at stores and I avoid eye contact. I don't usually introduce myself to new people and I hate going to parties or events by myself. I'm not the same happy, go-lucky girl I was prior to being raped.
Regardless, things get better. I promise they do. 5 years ago, I was raped. That doesn't define who I am or where my path will lead. I never would have thought that I would be where I am now, but I am. I have a husband who I love dearly and who loves and cherishes me. I have a daughter who smiles at me daily and is one of my many reasons to get out of bed each day. I have a well-paying job and an extended family that has always been there for me.
I have anxiety attacks and there are triggers that bring back the feelings from that day in August of 2011. I still have PTSD and I still have bouts of depression. That doesn't define me. That doesn't change the wonderful life that I have now.
My hope in sharing my story is that someone, somewhere, can trust me when I say that things get better. I promise, they do. Maybe not in one year, or five years, or ten years... but they will get better. I'm not the person I was before but I have so many good things in my life now. If I had given in to the voices in my head telling me I was worthless and tempting me to just end my life, I wouldn't have Kyle. I wouldn't have Ellen.
I have hard days but the good ones outweigh the bad. I will never forget what happened to me but I have moved on. I am not what happened to me. I am worth so much. I am a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a mother. I am a writer, a lover, and a creator. My guard is always up and I'm sure it will stay that way but I am not who I was 5 years ago.
If you're going through Hell, it can't last forever. Things do get better. Look ahead, better yourself, and get the help you need to be the best version of yourself that you can be.
A lot can happen in 5 years.
I have been meaning to write about this for a long time now. I was always scared to put it in words. I didn't know what to say or how to say it. I worried about what others would think if they ever read it. I am in a better place now, much better, and I feel strong enough to write about what I have been through. After discussing it with Kyle and having his blessing, I am ready to use my writing as a catharsis for something that happened to me 5 years ago.
I used to be very outgoing. I used to have lots of friends and I wasn't afraid to introduce myself to strangers. I was open and happy to meet new people. Unfortunately, that was somewhat of a factor in what happened.
In August of 2011, I was raped.
It's a bit of a long story, but I believe it needs to be told. Not only for my own well being but maybe someone, somewhere needs to read what I have to say.
My friends and I often spent our summer days at a local water park. On one occasion, there was a good looking boy in the wave pool and I, with one of my friends, decided to introduce myself. We got his name and later that day looked him up on Facebook. His name was pretty common so I'm surprised we actually found the right account but we did. I messaged him back and forth for a while and before long, a few of his friends added me on Facebook, too. I talked to them as well and ended up really taking a liking to one of his friends in particular. For all intents and purposes, lets say his name was Bob. Bob and I started messaging one another back and forth and eventually moved to texting each other. We'd be communicating all day, getting to know one another and flirting like the teenagers we were. Bob lived about 15 minutes from me but we had not met in person.
After a few weeks of texting, Bob and I were eager to meet for the first time. Knowing my parents wouldn't approve of me going on a date with Bob (seeing as I was only 15 at the time) I decided to invite him to a Back-to-School church dance. Bob agreed to go and we were both excited to spend time together, finally.
I got a ride with some friends to the dance and knew that Bob was going to drive himself and meet me there. Bob was 18 at the time.
Bob texted me as soon as he had arrived at the dance. It was held outside in a park with a pavilion lit up. It was mostly dark but I went to where Bob said he had parked and we hugged and walked back to the dance together.
We stayed for about an hour and a half. We danced and had a good time together. I introduced him to a few of my friends there and I thought I had found my prince charming. After a while, though, I was ready to go someplace we could just talk and get to know each other better, in person. Bob offered to drive me home so I agreed. I found my friend that had given me a ride to the dance and let her know that I wouldn't be needing a ride home. She thanked me for letting her know and told us to have fun, then was back to the dance while Bob and I left.
When we got to my neighborhood, I realized I had a little while before I needed to be home for curfew which was 11 PM at the time. I suggested to Bob that we go and talk in a field across the street from my parent's house. He agreed and we walked from his car together toward a spot near a few trees.
I sat down and Bob sat next to me. We held hands (I liked him, after all, and he reciprocated the feelings) and started talking. It was innocent and only made me like him more.
Then, he kissed me.
Sure, it was great. The cute boy I liked had just kissed me. I thought it was everything I wanted.
Then, he kissed me some more.
He didn't stop and I wasn't sure how to tell him to. Somewhere along the line, he was getting undressed and undressing me as well. I went numb. This was not the way I envisioned the night going and it was not something I had ever planned on, not like this.
I can't remember much about what happened after that and before I was upstairs in my room, crying on my bed. The thing that I do remember, though, was the actual act of the rape. Prior to this day, I had no idea that intercourse actually meant intercourse. It shocked me both physically and emotionally.
After the rape, Bob walked me to his car with his arm around me. He said this would be our secret. I don't remember what I said, if anything. I was numb.
I walked inside my parent's house and walked upstairs to my room. I sat on my bed and cried. I cried and cried and cried. What had I done?
There was something leaking so I went to the restroom only to find that I was bleeding, somewhat heavily. I thought it was just my period starting but I still felt so broken. I felt worthless. I didn't know what had just happened and I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I was naked with a boy out of wedlock and that was a sin so I was a sinner. I was going to Hell.
I sat back on my bed and continued to cry after I changed into my pajamas. I cried and prayed and cried some more. I don't remember falling asleep that night but I remember all the tears that stained my pillow.
The next morning was a blur. I was still numb. I got ready to go to church and tried to act normal around my mom and dad. I remember sitting in Sacrament meeting, crying throughout it. My mom asked if I was alright and I told her I was fine, just overcome with emotion. She didn't think much of it, it wasn't abnormal for me to be moved by the speakers during Sacrament meeting so she probably assumed that's why I was crying.
I don't remember the rest of the day at church or the time I was at home. I cried. That's all I remember.
That night, around 11 PM, I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't keep it in and I needed to tell my mom. The problem was, though, that I didn't know how to say it. I didn't really know what happened so all I could say was "I was naked with a boy last night." Not knowing the circumstances or the full story, my mom was furious. She thought that I had done so willingly and that I had chosen to commit this sin. She went in to her room and told my dad who had already gone to sleep for the night. She came back out and told me how upset he was as well but that he couldn't handle it tonight. She was angry with me and told me to go to my room.
I did. I cried myself to sleep once more.
My mom had a talk with me the following morning. She told me I was grounded until further notice and that I would need to talk to my father about this. Again, I felt worthless and told myself I was going to Hell. I was a sinner, wasn't I? That's what I thought.
Thankfully, I don't remember much of what happened the night I was raped and I don't remember much of the days that followed. I do remember, however, that it was a long time before I could talk to my dad. I had failed him as a daughter and I didn't know how I could ever regain his trust. Things stayed that way for a while.
Until my brother, Treis, came clean about some things.
He had been struggling with demons of his own and had finally been completely transparent with my mom and dad, telling them exactly what had happened with him. Seeing him have the strength to talk to my parents that way gave me strength too.
While we were sitting in her room one day, I told my mom I needed to talk to her. I explained to her that the boy I was naked with had forced me in to it. I didn't know what was going on and I didn't know what was happening to me. After giving her the details, my mom realized that I had been violated. It was not by my choice that this event occurred, she realized that I was raped.
In the following months, my mom and dad did all that they could to track down Bob and get me the help that I needed. I had to go see a social worker and re-live the rape all over again as I gave her details. I hated it. I didn't like having to tell someone what happened to me, let alone a stranger. I knew it needed to be done, though, so I did what I could.
The court approved funding for me to get counseling. I saw a counselor a few times but again, re-living the rape and feeling forced in to talking to her didn't help me at all. I haven't seen the counselor in over 3 years and I don't plan on going back to her. For me, talking about what happened did not make it better and imagining it definitely only made it worse.
Being raped changed me. When I started school again for my sophomore year, I didn't want to introduce myself to anyone. I didn't want to do my homework or study. I wasn't myself at all. I went from being a straight A student to getting C's and even failing classes. Honestly, I am so grateful for my mom. Without her, I probably wouldn't have graduated high school and I mean that. She is the one that encouraged me and went to bat for me over a silly .25 credit I needed to graduate. I couldn't have done it without her.
Since I wasn't myself, I didn't realize my self worth. I dated some stupid guys who didn't treat me as well as they should have. I didn't let people hug me or have any physical contact with me unless I was the one who decided it was okay. Even after being told it wasn't my fault, it still somehow felt like it was.
Was it what I wore that night? I wore jeans and a new blouse I had purchased for the upcoming school year. Sure, it had a design on the back and showed a little of my shoulders but nothing near revealing. It couldn't have been that. I must have just been an easy target since I had fallen for Bob so fast and followed his lead. He was older, after all, and I didn't know him very well despite talking quite often. It was the first time I had ever seen him in person and this happened to me.
Before I was raped, I thought it was ridiculous that rapes were even a "thing". How could someone not like what was happening to them? Wasn't sex supposed to be a pleasure? I didn't understand how anyone could ever let that happen. Wouldn't they just say no and leave? Wouldn't they stand up for themselves? As a survivor, I can tell you that in the moment of the rape, it's nearly impossible to move. Even if you can move or find the words to say, the perpetrator doesn't listen. Saying "No" or "Stop" doesn't help. A predator will chose it's prey wisely and never worry about them fighting back.
Looking back on it now, I ask myself and wonder why I didn't just get up and go home. I wonder why I didn't have the mental or physical capacity to leave. It all goes back to what I've been saying; I was numb. I couldn't have done those things. I was scared. I didn't know Bob very well. I didn't know if he would hurt me if I tried to leave. I didn't know what would happen if I fought back.
In the last 5 years, I have changed.
I opened back up a little bit. I got a Tinder account and that's ultimately how I met my husband, Kyle. I was very cautious using Tinder, though. When meeting anyone from the app, I drove myself to where we agreed to meet. I told my parents where I was going and when I would be home. I kept the GPS on my phone turned on so my parents could check on me. I picked public, well populated areas and only areas with plenty of light. I had my guard up for a good reason.
Kyle was different. Kyle asked permission to put his arm around me on our first date. That showed me how much of a gentleman he was and made me trust him a little bit more than I would trust the other Tinder guys. After spending lots of time together and building the trust even more, I felt comfortable and safe with Kyle. He never hurt me. He respected me and still does. I knew that I could trust him and after much prayer, I knew he was the man I was to marry.
Now, it's been about 2 years since I met Kyle. In that time, we got engaged, married, and had our first child together. We have a humble home and cars that run. We have a roof over our heads and food in the fridge. We have a beautiful daughter together.
Because of what happened to me, I am cautious around new people. I don't trust easily and if you break my trust, I can assure you it will be a long time until I ever trust you again, if at all. I'm anxious 99% of the time about a lot of different things. I prefer to go to self-checkouts at stores and I avoid eye contact. I don't usually introduce myself to new people and I hate going to parties or events by myself. I'm not the same happy, go-lucky girl I was prior to being raped.
Regardless, things get better. I promise they do. 5 years ago, I was raped. That doesn't define who I am or where my path will lead. I never would have thought that I would be where I am now, but I am. I have a husband who I love dearly and who loves and cherishes me. I have a daughter who smiles at me daily and is one of my many reasons to get out of bed each day. I have a well-paying job and an extended family that has always been there for me.
I have anxiety attacks and there are triggers that bring back the feelings from that day in August of 2011. I still have PTSD and I still have bouts of depression. That doesn't define me. That doesn't change the wonderful life that I have now.
My hope in sharing my story is that someone, somewhere, can trust me when I say that things get better. I promise, they do. Maybe not in one year, or five years, or ten years... but they will get better. I'm not the person I was before but I have so many good things in my life now. If I had given in to the voices in my head telling me I was worthless and tempting me to just end my life, I wouldn't have Kyle. I wouldn't have Ellen.
I have hard days but the good ones outweigh the bad. I will never forget what happened to me but I have moved on. I am not what happened to me. I am worth so much. I am a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a mother. I am a writer, a lover, and a creator. My guard is always up and I'm sure it will stay that way but I am not who I was 5 years ago.
If you're going through Hell, it can't last forever. Things do get better. Look ahead, better yourself, and get the help you need to be the best version of yourself that you can be.
A lot can happen in 5 years.
