When you have been raped, it's important to control who touches you. You had been touched in a way that destroyed your faith in humanity, and you don't want that to happen ever again. At least, it's that way for me. For a long time afterwards, I didn't want to be touched in any way. I didn't want to be hugged, I didn't want to people tapping me on my shoulder, I didn't want to be touched at all.
I needed to control who touched me and when. I wanted to be the one that initiated hugging or any other form of touching. It's not that I minded being touched - I just wanted to initiate it and know it was going to happen. I hated it when people surprised me by touching my arm whilst they were talking to me, or tickled me or did anything that involved physical contact.
More often than not, when someone touched me and I wasn't expecting it, I would either jump or flinch. Even though it was all completely innocent, I hated it. I had been touched against my will once, I didn't want it to happen ever again. I knew that people touching me were doing it in all innocence. I knew it wasn't in a sexual way. I knew it was friendly. But if I wasn't expecting it then I didn't want it to happen.
I stayed like this for a long time. People just thought I was distant and aloof. They thought I was rude or a bit weird. I didn't care - I just wanted to be in control of who touched me and when they touched me.
I remember once incident, when a friend of mine accidentally brushed his hand against my backside. It was completely innocent - he hadn't even realised he'd done it, but I went crazy. I started shouting at him and asking him what he thought he was playing at. The poor guy - he had absolutely no idea what was going on.
Things are slowly changing though - I don't jump or flinch as much. I enjoy being hugged. It's nice to have human contact that is friendly. A hug is not violent, a hug is not sexual and a hug is not awful. In fact, being hugged is quite nice. Unfortunately - most people think that I don't want to be hugged because of my past behaviour.
Most times now, I don't mind when people touch me and I wasn't aware that they were going to. I've learnt that being touched isn't a bad thing. Being touched does not equal being violated in any way. Being touched can be nice - a hug is supportive and friendly, not evil.
However, there are still times though when I don't like to be touched. Those times are always when I am about to do something that confronts him. All my thoughts are focused on him - the last thing I want is to be touched in any way. The memories are too strong, the thoughts of him are too strong. When I'm in that state of mind, I don't want any physical contact - even if it's meant to be supportive. All that happens is that I end up thinking about the way he touched me.
Luckily, those moments don't happen very often - they only happen when I'm doing something that relates directly to him; like reporting him, identifying him etc. When he is all that I'm focused on, I build an emotional barrier around myself so that he can't hurt me. That barrier is also around my body - if anyone breaks through that barrier and touches me, the barrier in my mind starts to break and I feel myself crumbling emotionally.
As I said though - that doesn't happen very often anymore. For the most part, I don't mind being touched anymore. I've discovered that I quite like physical contact with other people. Hugs are nice, they make you feel good.
For me, finally admitting that is a major breakthrough - it means I'm letting the walls around myself down and letting people in. I'm not letting what he did to me dictate how I act around my friends. I'm not letting what he did to me stop me from enjoying hugs from my family and friends. I'm taking back control by opening up and enjoying physical contact.
There was a time, before I was raped, that I enjoyed hugs. He stole that from me. Well, now I'm taking that back.
A hug? Yes please!
Me
Sunday 31 July 2011
Saturday 23 July 2011
I identified him
It's just gone 1AM on Saturday morning. I am yet to fall asleep. I want to stay up until I am absolutely exhausted, so that I'll be too tired to dream (or to remember my dreams). I don't want to dream about him.
I was on edge all day yesterday (Friday). I tried to eat, but couldn't bring myself to stomach more than a few bites. I tried to busy myself with anything - but I kept thinking about what lay ahead. I was dreading it and just wanted it to be over.
Finally, the time came to drive to the identification unit of the police station (the detective on my case was kind enough to travel up here, instead of me having to travel down there). I sat in the car and my Mum (Dad drove down in his car) keyed in the address on the SatNav. I got a shock when she said the name of the street that the station was on - it was his name. I thought that must be an omen, but couldn't decide whether it was good or bad.
I also think I may have damaged my Mum's hearing - I played my music extremely loud and sang (or rather, shouted) along with the songs. I wanted the music to drown out my thoughts.
Eventually we arrived at the station and one of the officers led the three of us in to a waiting room. I tried to distract myself by reading the posters that was up on the wall.
One of the posters was of four handwritten letters, sent by children. The children had obviously been on a school trip to the station. It said something along the lines of 'I had a great time and enjoyed standing in the line-up. I was number 7 and my friend was number 8. I hope I never have to be in that room again.'
That got me thinking. None of us imagine having anything bad happen to them, and none of us can imagine doing anything that warrants them a trip to the police station. I know I certainly didn't imagine myself standing in a police station waiting to identify the man that groomed, exploited and raped me. And I'm sure he would never have thought himself capable of doing that. He was once a child himself - what had he been like? What made him turn in to the monster that he is?
Then another officer came and led me into a separate room. I had to answer some routine questions and then I was told to face the computer. I was told that 9 short video clips will be played. I wasn't to comment or say anything until they had played through twice. The videos started playing. I was nervous. I was so scared I wouldn't recognise him.
Number one - it wasn't him. Number two - not him. Number three - looked a bit like him, but not really. Number four - not him. By this point I'm thinking 'oh God, what if he's not here? What if he is and I just haven't recognised him?'. Number 5 - I stop breathing. It's him. My mind goes blank, I can just see him. He's changed over the years, but it's definitely him. I barely even notice the other 4 people.
After the second time, the officer asks if I would like to see any clips again. I say number 5. I need to see him again. I don't want to - but I need to. This is the first time in six years that I've seen him - I want to scream at him, I want to shout. I want to see if he has a conscience. I want to know that he knows that what he did was wrong and hurt and changed me in so many ways. But of course - none of this happens. All I'm looking at is a 15 second video clip.
I identify him as the man that raped me. I am then led back in to the waiting room. My parents asked me how it went - I couldn't answer them, I had to rush to the toilet. I sat over the toilet, dry heaving. I felt sick to my stomach. Seeing him had completely thrown me. I realised though that I wasn't going to be sick, as I had an empty stomach.
Sitting back with my parents, we waited for the detective on my case to join us. It's a new detective that I haven't met before, as the other one has been promoted and is no longer in the same unit. I like the new detective, she seems very nice and a hard-ass - the perfect mix. I like that she's fighting with me, I like that she wants to see him punished.
She said that yes, I had identified the man that they had arrested. I breathed a sigh of relief - by this point I had been second-guessing myself. 'What if I picked the wrong man?' I didn't think I had, but the insecurity was there.
Now it's just a waiting game. Waiting for more evidence to be collected. Waiting for reports to be filed. Waiting for, hopefully, charges to be filed. The detective thinks that it will all be finished in less than 6 months.
Right now, my head is all over the place. I still feel slightly sick about seeing him. I feel relieved that that part is over. Angry at him. I'm also aware that it's not just me he has to deal with - it's my family, my friends and the police. I am not in this alone. He will never be able to hurt me again.
Yet every time I close my eyes, I can see him staring out at me from inside the computer. It felt like he was looking right at me. And I stared straight back at him.
I'm ready to fight him. I'm done hiding away from him. He knew me as a weak girl - he's going to get a shock when he realises I am a strong woman.
Me
I was on edge all day yesterday (Friday). I tried to eat, but couldn't bring myself to stomach more than a few bites. I tried to busy myself with anything - but I kept thinking about what lay ahead. I was dreading it and just wanted it to be over.
Finally, the time came to drive to the identification unit of the police station (the detective on my case was kind enough to travel up here, instead of me having to travel down there). I sat in the car and my Mum (Dad drove down in his car) keyed in the address on the SatNav. I got a shock when she said the name of the street that the station was on - it was his name. I thought that must be an omen, but couldn't decide whether it was good or bad.
I also think I may have damaged my Mum's hearing - I played my music extremely loud and sang (or rather, shouted) along with the songs. I wanted the music to drown out my thoughts.
Eventually we arrived at the station and one of the officers led the three of us in to a waiting room. I tried to distract myself by reading the posters that was up on the wall.
One of the posters was of four handwritten letters, sent by children. The children had obviously been on a school trip to the station. It said something along the lines of 'I had a great time and enjoyed standing in the line-up. I was number 7 and my friend was number 8. I hope I never have to be in that room again.'
That got me thinking. None of us imagine having anything bad happen to them, and none of us can imagine doing anything that warrants them a trip to the police station. I know I certainly didn't imagine myself standing in a police station waiting to identify the man that groomed, exploited and raped me. And I'm sure he would never have thought himself capable of doing that. He was once a child himself - what had he been like? What made him turn in to the monster that he is?
Then another officer came and led me into a separate room. I had to answer some routine questions and then I was told to face the computer. I was told that 9 short video clips will be played. I wasn't to comment or say anything until they had played through twice. The videos started playing. I was nervous. I was so scared I wouldn't recognise him.
Number one - it wasn't him. Number two - not him. Number three - looked a bit like him, but not really. Number four - not him. By this point I'm thinking 'oh God, what if he's not here? What if he is and I just haven't recognised him?'. Number 5 - I stop breathing. It's him. My mind goes blank, I can just see him. He's changed over the years, but it's definitely him. I barely even notice the other 4 people.
After the second time, the officer asks if I would like to see any clips again. I say number 5. I need to see him again. I don't want to - but I need to. This is the first time in six years that I've seen him - I want to scream at him, I want to shout. I want to see if he has a conscience. I want to know that he knows that what he did was wrong and hurt and changed me in so many ways. But of course - none of this happens. All I'm looking at is a 15 second video clip.
I identify him as the man that raped me. I am then led back in to the waiting room. My parents asked me how it went - I couldn't answer them, I had to rush to the toilet. I sat over the toilet, dry heaving. I felt sick to my stomach. Seeing him had completely thrown me. I realised though that I wasn't going to be sick, as I had an empty stomach.
Sitting back with my parents, we waited for the detective on my case to join us. It's a new detective that I haven't met before, as the other one has been promoted and is no longer in the same unit. I like the new detective, she seems very nice and a hard-ass - the perfect mix. I like that she's fighting with me, I like that she wants to see him punished.
She said that yes, I had identified the man that they had arrested. I breathed a sigh of relief - by this point I had been second-guessing myself. 'What if I picked the wrong man?' I didn't think I had, but the insecurity was there.
Now it's just a waiting game. Waiting for more evidence to be collected. Waiting for reports to be filed. Waiting for, hopefully, charges to be filed. The detective thinks that it will all be finished in less than 6 months.
Right now, my head is all over the place. I still feel slightly sick about seeing him. I feel relieved that that part is over. Angry at him. I'm also aware that it's not just me he has to deal with - it's my family, my friends and the police. I am not in this alone. He will never be able to hurt me again.
Yet every time I close my eyes, I can see him staring out at me from inside the computer. It felt like he was looking right at me. And I stared straight back at him.
I'm ready to fight him. I'm done hiding away from him. He knew me as a weak girl - he's going to get a shock when he realises I am a strong woman.
Me
Wednesday 20 July 2011
This Friday
I had a fantastic time on my course - I found it amazing.
The night before the first day I only managed to get about 3 hours sleep, as I was plagued by nightmares - which wasn't surprising. After all, being so close to the place where it happened was bound to bring it to the surface and make me think about it, which in turn will make me dream about it. I was absolutely exhausted, but also determined that he wasn't going to ruin this for me. So, dosed up on caffeine I not only made it through the day; I loved every second of it.
There were, however, some times on the course that was difficult. Especially since one of the helpers looked like him. Now he was a kind of average guy that looks like a lot of people, so I'm used to that. I just think it was more difficult because I was on edge and I was thinking about him a lot. But it was fine - I managed to move past it and realise that the helper was a decent guy and not him.
I also decided to not hide away in my hotel room when the day was over. Why should I hide myself away? I'm not a scared little girl anymore. So I explored the surrounding area, making myself familiar with the area. I must admit - I was uncomfortable walking around alone by myself, but I forced myself to continue. By the end of my little exploration, I was even enjoying myself.
Night time was the worst though. Everything is always worse at night. Nothing too bad - just a lot of nightmares. I think 3-4 hours sleep was the average amount.
The police called as well. Luckily I didn't get their message until after the course was finished.
I'm going to be doing the identification on Friday. I won't lie - I'm extremely scared and nervous.
What if he's changed so much I don't recognise him? What will seeing a picture of him do to me? I haven't seen him (in person or a photo) since it happened six years ago. Yes, I see him in my nightmare - but that is completely different.
At the minute, every time I find myself with nothing to do, he pops in to my head. Every time I close my eyes; I see him. He's there, lurking, ready to jump out when I least expect him to.
I'm just very unsettled at the minute. And I'm worried that this will all be for nothing - what if I mess up and don't pick him out? It will all have been for nothing. I would never forgive myself.
Me
The night before the first day I only managed to get about 3 hours sleep, as I was plagued by nightmares - which wasn't surprising. After all, being so close to the place where it happened was bound to bring it to the surface and make me think about it, which in turn will make me dream about it. I was absolutely exhausted, but also determined that he wasn't going to ruin this for me. So, dosed up on caffeine I not only made it through the day; I loved every second of it.
There were, however, some times on the course that was difficult. Especially since one of the helpers looked like him. Now he was a kind of average guy that looks like a lot of people, so I'm used to that. I just think it was more difficult because I was on edge and I was thinking about him a lot. But it was fine - I managed to move past it and realise that the helper was a decent guy and not him.
I also decided to not hide away in my hotel room when the day was over. Why should I hide myself away? I'm not a scared little girl anymore. So I explored the surrounding area, making myself familiar with the area. I must admit - I was uncomfortable walking around alone by myself, but I forced myself to continue. By the end of my little exploration, I was even enjoying myself.
Night time was the worst though. Everything is always worse at night. Nothing too bad - just a lot of nightmares. I think 3-4 hours sleep was the average amount.
The police called as well. Luckily I didn't get their message until after the course was finished.
I'm going to be doing the identification on Friday. I won't lie - I'm extremely scared and nervous.
What if he's changed so much I don't recognise him? What will seeing a picture of him do to me? I haven't seen him (in person or a photo) since it happened six years ago. Yes, I see him in my nightmare - but that is completely different.
At the minute, every time I find myself with nothing to do, he pops in to my head. Every time I close my eyes; I see him. He's there, lurking, ready to jump out when I least expect him to.
I'm just very unsettled at the minute. And I'm worried that this will all be for nothing - what if I mess up and don't pick him out? It will all have been for nothing. I would never forgive myself.
Me
Monday 18 July 2011
Twenty minutes
I'm in the city where he raped me. It's a big city. It's the biggest city in the UK. I'm here for a 3-day course. The course starts tomorrow and I'm very excited about it. I want to be on this course.
Yet right now, I can't sleep. My hotel is very close to where the course is held. Yes, it's a big city. I'm just very aware of the fact that the place where he raped me is less than 20 minutes from my hotel. The thought that keeps going round and round in my head is 'twenty minutes'. That place is the place that plagues my dreams and turns them into nightmares, and it's so close to me.
It also means he won't be far from here either. The place where it happened isn't far from where he lived. Which means he's not far from me.
Everywhere I look I'm seeing him.
My Mum wanted to come with me to offer me support. I declined her offer. I've travelled alone so many times I've lost count - I'm not about to let fear stop me from being independent. I do not want to be afraid. I refuse to let him stop me from enjoying myself. I know the probability of seeing him is beyond miniscule and really, what is there to be afraid of? He can't hurt me anymore - there's no way in hell I'm letting him hurt me ever again. So what exactly am I scared of?
I suppose part of me is still that scared and trusting child that he hurt and molded and almost destroyed. I know I'm an adult. I have grown a hell of a lot since he last saw me. I'm not the meek little girl I once was. I am a strong woman, not a weak, frightened child. Yet a part of me will always be that child. I put my trust in this man and he betrayed me, badly. He stole my innocence, he stole a part of me that I will never get back.
I fear him because he took a part of me. I fear him because he hurt me. I fear him because when I remember him I remember the weak child I once was.
As I said before, the chances of seeing him are tiny. I am not going to hide myself away in my hotel room just because there's less than 1% chance of running in to him. In fact - I went out for dinner with an old friend of mine and I had a lovely time.
I'm just very aware of where I am and I know I'm extremely jumpy and wary right now. Being this close to where it happened and where he lives also means that memories are coming flooding back; hence why I can't get to sleep. I don't want another nightmare about him and with all these memories and fears, the chance of not having a nightmare about him is small.
It's just that, in the back of my mind there's a small voice whispering 'twenty minutes'.
I won't let him beat me though. I am going to enjoy this course and I'm going to enjoy seeing friends while I'm here. He's not going to stop me. I will not let him ruin my time here. Now let's hope that I can put on my armor and stop myself from being so damn jumpy and wary.
Me
Yet right now, I can't sleep. My hotel is very close to where the course is held. Yes, it's a big city. I'm just very aware of the fact that the place where he raped me is less than 20 minutes from my hotel. The thought that keeps going round and round in my head is 'twenty minutes'. That place is the place that plagues my dreams and turns them into nightmares, and it's so close to me.
It also means he won't be far from here either. The place where it happened isn't far from where he lived. Which means he's not far from me.
Everywhere I look I'm seeing him.
My Mum wanted to come with me to offer me support. I declined her offer. I've travelled alone so many times I've lost count - I'm not about to let fear stop me from being independent. I do not want to be afraid. I refuse to let him stop me from enjoying myself. I know the probability of seeing him is beyond miniscule and really, what is there to be afraid of? He can't hurt me anymore - there's no way in hell I'm letting him hurt me ever again. So what exactly am I scared of?
I suppose part of me is still that scared and trusting child that he hurt and molded and almost destroyed. I know I'm an adult. I have grown a hell of a lot since he last saw me. I'm not the meek little girl I once was. I am a strong woman, not a weak, frightened child. Yet a part of me will always be that child. I put my trust in this man and he betrayed me, badly. He stole my innocence, he stole a part of me that I will never get back.
I fear him because he took a part of me. I fear him because he hurt me. I fear him because when I remember him I remember the weak child I once was.
As I said before, the chances of seeing him are tiny. I am not going to hide myself away in my hotel room just because there's less than 1% chance of running in to him. In fact - I went out for dinner with an old friend of mine and I had a lovely time.
I'm just very aware of where I am and I know I'm extremely jumpy and wary right now. Being this close to where it happened and where he lives also means that memories are coming flooding back; hence why I can't get to sleep. I don't want another nightmare about him and with all these memories and fears, the chance of not having a nightmare about him is small.
It's just that, in the back of my mind there's a small voice whispering 'twenty minutes'.
I won't let him beat me though. I am going to enjoy this course and I'm going to enjoy seeing friends while I'm here. He's not going to stop me. I will not let him ruin my time here. Now let's hope that I can put on my armor and stop myself from being so damn jumpy and wary.
Me
Wednesday 13 July 2011
Finding God
Growing up, I was an atheist. I didn't believe in God and I didn't want to. Christianity had nothing whatsoever to do with me. After he raped me, I was convinced there was no God. After all, if He did exist, why did He allow this to happen to me? I just couldn't believe a loving God would allow this to happen.
Not believing in God also meant that I had no reason to try and better myself - I had nothing to strive for. I was extremely self-destructive.
It was my housemate JW that suggested I should go to something called 'Christianity Explored', a kind of class where you learn about God and Jesus and can ask those tough questions. Going to that class was the best thing I ever did. Something inside me changed. It felt like an emptiness in my soul had been filled. I realised that He does exist, and that He does love me.
God's love and strength is what keeps me going in those dark days. He is what gives me the strength to carry on. He is the reason I want to better myself.
As I said in yesterday's entry - I still have days that I stumble, but instead of giving up, His love and forgiveness means I can get up and try again.
You may ask how I could have changed my mind so drastically and in such a short period of time, especially as for the first 22 years of my life I was an athiest. I wrote an article about that, so if you're interested, you can read it below. I would also suggest reading 'Mere Christianity' by C.S Lewis.
Here's the article I wrote:
People ask me how I can be a Christian when there is so much suffering in the world. We are bombarded by the effects of suicide-bombers, murder, rape and natural disasters from the moment we wake up to the moment we go to sleep. So many deaths, so much suffering. Surely a kind, loving God would not allow this? The answer to that question is not a simple one. It is not an easy one.
Firstly, you must look at why there is suffering in the world. Is it God’s doing, or is it a consequence that we as humans must suffer for all the sins before us? Our whole world is made up from cause and effect – you throw an apple up in the sky, it will come crashing back down to earth. The same goes for everything we as a human race do. You pollute the environment; the younger generations will suffer by living in a dying world. You kill someone; you will have to live with yourself and have to shoulder the grief of your victim’s family and friends. You cheat on an exam; you will have to face being kicked out of college. Whatever you have done, you must live with the consequences. Expecting anything less would be asking for a free pass. If your choices have no negative consequences, what is stopping you from repeating yourself over and over again? How do you learn from your mistakes?
Many people, when faced with their own mistakes and wrong-doings, beg God for forgiveness. Are they really asking for forgiveness or are they asking God to fix their mistakes, to stop the natural law of cause and effect? If you do something bad and that gets changed into something good by God, how are you learning anything? The only thing you then learn is that if you do something bad you get rewarded by God. If He were to grant everyone their wishes – how do we learn from our experiences? Not only do we first curse the name of God by either denying Him or judging Him, we then expect Him to fix the problems we have made for ourselves. “Since you object to what God does, can you expect Him to do what you want?” Job 34: 53
By asking God to help us, we are asking Him to stop the natural law and to save man from man’s own actions. We are asking for a miracle. Of course miracles happen, of course God can perform miracles. Jesus cured the disabled and Jesus himself rose from the dead. Miracles are about suspending natural law – they happen every day, if you are just willing to look for them. But you can’t expect God to stop every bad decision that man makes. You can’t expect God to perform miracles because you have made the wrong judgment call.
The question that I am then often asked is, why does God allow us to make these bad decisions? Why give us the power to destroy ourselves? The answer is simple. God gave us free will and with that free will comes great responsibility; responsibility to do the right thing and the chance to learn from our mistakes and wrong-doings. He gave us free will so that we can choose how we live our lives. He gave us free will so that we aren’t robots, so that we experience emotions. If we had no free will we would not feel love and joy. And you can’t feel love and joy without feeling pain as well. It was with the free will that God gave us that the first sin entered the world. Because of that sin, we experience shame, embarrassment and humiliation. Because of that sin we experience pain - and only with true pain comes true happiness.
You may ask me how on earth I can think this way. I have been told that nothing bad must have happened to me – surely only someone who hasn’t suffered can say ‘by experiencing pain we experience happiness’. What pain can a middle-class white girl have really experienced? So let me tell you a bit about myself. Like many people, I have seen those closest to me die. I have experienced grief. I was also sexually exploited as a child and I am a rape survivor. I have experienced pain, and by experiencing that pain I have become a stronger person. That pain has also brought me closer to God.
We are owed nothing in this life. Life – and God – should not bend over backwards to ease our suffering and to make our lives easier and happier. You only need to look at the story of Job and his suffering to understand.
Job was one of the most faithful servants that God had when Satan asked Him the question “would Job worship You if he got nothing out of it?” Job 1: 9. Satan took everything from him – his family, his wealth and his health, to which Job responded “I was born with nothing, and I will die with nothing. The Lord gave, and now He has taken away. May His name be praised!” and “When God sends us something good, we welcome it. How can we complain when He sends us suffering?” Job 1: 21 and Job 2: 10. It is easy to worship and praise God when we experience happiness. But is that really worship, or is that our arrogance in thinking that we are above sin, that we deserve all the good things that God has to offer? Do we learn anything if we have never had to work for anything in our lives?
“God teaches people through suffering and uses distress to open their eyes” Job 36:15. Only by suffering and loss can we know that we serve God for the sake of serving God – not by gaining health or wealth. Serving God is not a ‘quid pro quo’. We do not serve God for our own well-being. We serve God because He created us, because we owe our lives to Him. Through suffering we learn that faith can grow, through suffering we learn that God is our only refuge – in this world and the next.
And yet... despite all the suffering that we endure in this life, God loves us so much that He sent His only Son to be tortured and to die for us. He sent Jesus to suffer and be killed for us, so that He can take away our sins. He did this so that we can live eternally and know true happiness and peace by being with Him.
We all feel that we are suffering – all of us, at times feel that we are being judged unfairly; that no sin we have committed warrants the pain that we are feeling. So the next time I feel that I’m suffering through no fault of my own, I will not curse God’s name or tell Him how He can help me. Instead I will ask how I can help Him and be thankful that I have been given the opportunity to be that much closer to Him.
Me
Not believing in God also meant that I had no reason to try and better myself - I had nothing to strive for. I was extremely self-destructive.
It was my housemate JW that suggested I should go to something called 'Christianity Explored', a kind of class where you learn about God and Jesus and can ask those tough questions. Going to that class was the best thing I ever did. Something inside me changed. It felt like an emptiness in my soul had been filled. I realised that He does exist, and that He does love me.
God's love and strength is what keeps me going in those dark days. He is what gives me the strength to carry on. He is the reason I want to better myself.
As I said in yesterday's entry - I still have days that I stumble, but instead of giving up, His love and forgiveness means I can get up and try again.
You may ask how I could have changed my mind so drastically and in such a short period of time, especially as for the first 22 years of my life I was an athiest. I wrote an article about that, so if you're interested, you can read it below. I would also suggest reading 'Mere Christianity' by C.S Lewis.
Here's the article I wrote:
People ask me how I can be a Christian when there is so much suffering in the world. We are bombarded by the effects of suicide-bombers, murder, rape and natural disasters from the moment we wake up to the moment we go to sleep. So many deaths, so much suffering. Surely a kind, loving God would not allow this? The answer to that question is not a simple one. It is not an easy one.
Firstly, you must look at why there is suffering in the world. Is it God’s doing, or is it a consequence that we as humans must suffer for all the sins before us? Our whole world is made up from cause and effect – you throw an apple up in the sky, it will come crashing back down to earth. The same goes for everything we as a human race do. You pollute the environment; the younger generations will suffer by living in a dying world. You kill someone; you will have to live with yourself and have to shoulder the grief of your victim’s family and friends. You cheat on an exam; you will have to face being kicked out of college. Whatever you have done, you must live with the consequences. Expecting anything less would be asking for a free pass. If your choices have no negative consequences, what is stopping you from repeating yourself over and over again? How do you learn from your mistakes?
Many people, when faced with their own mistakes and wrong-doings, beg God for forgiveness. Are they really asking for forgiveness or are they asking God to fix their mistakes, to stop the natural law of cause and effect? If you do something bad and that gets changed into something good by God, how are you learning anything? The only thing you then learn is that if you do something bad you get rewarded by God. If He were to grant everyone their wishes – how do we learn from our experiences? Not only do we first curse the name of God by either denying Him or judging Him, we then expect Him to fix the problems we have made for ourselves. “Since you object to what God does, can you expect Him to do what you want?” Job 34: 53
By asking God to help us, we are asking Him to stop the natural law and to save man from man’s own actions. We are asking for a miracle. Of course miracles happen, of course God can perform miracles. Jesus cured the disabled and Jesus himself rose from the dead. Miracles are about suspending natural law – they happen every day, if you are just willing to look for them. But you can’t expect God to stop every bad decision that man makes. You can’t expect God to perform miracles because you have made the wrong judgment call.
The question that I am then often asked is, why does God allow us to make these bad decisions? Why give us the power to destroy ourselves? The answer is simple. God gave us free will and with that free will comes great responsibility; responsibility to do the right thing and the chance to learn from our mistakes and wrong-doings. He gave us free will so that we can choose how we live our lives. He gave us free will so that we aren’t robots, so that we experience emotions. If we had no free will we would not feel love and joy. And you can’t feel love and joy without feeling pain as well. It was with the free will that God gave us that the first sin entered the world. Because of that sin, we experience shame, embarrassment and humiliation. Because of that sin we experience pain - and only with true pain comes true happiness.
You may ask me how on earth I can think this way. I have been told that nothing bad must have happened to me – surely only someone who hasn’t suffered can say ‘by experiencing pain we experience happiness’. What pain can a middle-class white girl have really experienced? So let me tell you a bit about myself. Like many people, I have seen those closest to me die. I have experienced grief. I was also sexually exploited as a child and I am a rape survivor. I have experienced pain, and by experiencing that pain I have become a stronger person. That pain has also brought me closer to God.
We are owed nothing in this life. Life – and God – should not bend over backwards to ease our suffering and to make our lives easier and happier. You only need to look at the story of Job and his suffering to understand.
Job was one of the most faithful servants that God had when Satan asked Him the question “would Job worship You if he got nothing out of it?” Job 1: 9. Satan took everything from him – his family, his wealth and his health, to which Job responded “I was born with nothing, and I will die with nothing. The Lord gave, and now He has taken away. May His name be praised!” and “When God sends us something good, we welcome it. How can we complain when He sends us suffering?” Job 1: 21 and Job 2: 10. It is easy to worship and praise God when we experience happiness. But is that really worship, or is that our arrogance in thinking that we are above sin, that we deserve all the good things that God has to offer? Do we learn anything if we have never had to work for anything in our lives?
“God teaches people through suffering and uses distress to open their eyes” Job 36:15. Only by suffering and loss can we know that we serve God for the sake of serving God – not by gaining health or wealth. Serving God is not a ‘quid pro quo’. We do not serve God for our own well-being. We serve God because He created us, because we owe our lives to Him. Through suffering we learn that faith can grow, through suffering we learn that God is our only refuge – in this world and the next.
And yet... despite all the suffering that we endure in this life, God loves us so much that He sent His only Son to be tortured and to die for us. He sent Jesus to suffer and be killed for us, so that He can take away our sins. He did this so that we can live eternally and know true happiness and peace by being with Him.
We all feel that we are suffering – all of us, at times feel that we are being judged unfairly; that no sin we have committed warrants the pain that we are feeling. So the next time I feel that I’m suffering through no fault of my own, I will not curse God’s name or tell Him how He can help me. Instead I will ask how I can help Him and be thankful that I have been given the opportunity to be that much closer to Him.
Me
Tuesday 12 July 2011
A vicious circle
People think that the most common reaction to rape is to shy away from human contact. Or rather, that is the reaction that society expects - any other reaction and coping strategy is frowned upon. How did I react? I craved love; I needed to feel wanted. However, because I was groomed from an early age (an age where most kids are just starting to discover what love is) my view on love was (and is) completely different to most people's.
When I was 12 until 17, he was my best friend. He was the person I told everything to. He made me need him – I couldn't imagine not having him to confide in. I know that a lot of people struggle with the idea of grooming and can't quite get their heads around it. It's very similar to Stockholm Syndrome (where you bond with your captor in order to survive). In the beginning, there was nothing sexual about it; he was there when I needed someone to talk to. Whatever drama was going on in my 12-year-old life, he was there for me. Slowly, he started to worm his way into every aspect of my life, making me think that without him I would crumble. Eventually, he would be asking me for 'favours' in return for 'supporting me'. So from an early age, anything sexual was intertwined with being friends and having someone to listen to.
I grew up thinking that if you wanted to bond with someone, that if you wanted someone to be there for you, listen to you and be a shoulder to cry on, then you should give them something physical in return. I thought that was the way things worked. Sex, close friendship and love were so completely tangled up with each other they all seemed like one thing. I didn't think you could have one without the other.
Then he raped me. For a long time afterwards, yes, I did withdraw in to myself. I didn't want to get close to anyone for fear of what might happen, for fear of getting hurt, both physically and emotionally.
I don't know when or why I started to change, but I did. Part of me wanted to take back what he had stolen from me. I wanted to say "see, I’m moving on from being raped, you don't affect me anymore". I wanted to prove to him that I had control of my body, that I could choose to be with someone. However, an even bigger part of me just wanted to be close to someone again. I suppose I was lonely and wanted to reach out to people - I wanted a normal, healthy relationship, yet I had no idea how to get close to someone and have a relationship without being physical.
It soon became very clear that even though I wanted more – that wasn't what most people wanted. In their eyes it was "wham, bam, thank you ma'am". This of course just meant that I ended up feeling even worse than I did before – I felt used, I felt like a faceless one night stand, I felt empty. It was a horrible, horrible feeling. I truly felt alone and unloved. So, needing to feel loved, I would again seek out someone to be close to, which in turn made me feel much, much worse than before. It was a vicious circle that I couldn't seem to get out of.
In all honestly, I still haven't managed to completely untangle those three things. I still have moments where I stumble – if I'm feeling low then of course I look for something – someone – that will make me feel better, that will make me feel wanted. Or if I start to develop feelings for someone, or I think that someone is interested in me, then I always seem to manage to chase that person away by 'giving it up' too soon. Again, I always end up feeling much, much worse afterwards.
All of this is something I'm working on though. After all, how can I expect someone to respect me and want to be with me, when my actions say that I don't respect myself? Yes, it's going to take a long time to completely untangle these three things, but bit by bit, I’m getting there.
Me
When I was 12 until 17, he was my best friend. He was the person I told everything to. He made me need him – I couldn't imagine not having him to confide in. I know that a lot of people struggle with the idea of grooming and can't quite get their heads around it. It's very similar to Stockholm Syndrome (where you bond with your captor in order to survive). In the beginning, there was nothing sexual about it; he was there when I needed someone to talk to. Whatever drama was going on in my 12-year-old life, he was there for me. Slowly, he started to worm his way into every aspect of my life, making me think that without him I would crumble. Eventually, he would be asking me for 'favours' in return for 'supporting me'. So from an early age, anything sexual was intertwined with being friends and having someone to listen to.
I grew up thinking that if you wanted to bond with someone, that if you wanted someone to be there for you, listen to you and be a shoulder to cry on, then you should give them something physical in return. I thought that was the way things worked. Sex, close friendship and love were so completely tangled up with each other they all seemed like one thing. I didn't think you could have one without the other.
Then he raped me. For a long time afterwards, yes, I did withdraw in to myself. I didn't want to get close to anyone for fear of what might happen, for fear of getting hurt, both physically and emotionally.
I don't know when or why I started to change, but I did. Part of me wanted to take back what he had stolen from me. I wanted to say "see, I’m moving on from being raped, you don't affect me anymore". I wanted to prove to him that I had control of my body, that I could choose to be with someone. However, an even bigger part of me just wanted to be close to someone again. I suppose I was lonely and wanted to reach out to people - I wanted a normal, healthy relationship, yet I had no idea how to get close to someone and have a relationship without being physical.
It soon became very clear that even though I wanted more – that wasn't what most people wanted. In their eyes it was "wham, bam, thank you ma'am". This of course just meant that I ended up feeling even worse than I did before – I felt used, I felt like a faceless one night stand, I felt empty. It was a horrible, horrible feeling. I truly felt alone and unloved. So, needing to feel loved, I would again seek out someone to be close to, which in turn made me feel much, much worse than before. It was a vicious circle that I couldn't seem to get out of.
In all honestly, I still haven't managed to completely untangle those three things. I still have moments where I stumble – if I'm feeling low then of course I look for something – someone – that will make me feel better, that will make me feel wanted. Or if I start to develop feelings for someone, or I think that someone is interested in me, then I always seem to manage to chase that person away by 'giving it up' too soon. Again, I always end up feeling much, much worse afterwards.
All of this is something I'm working on though. After all, how can I expect someone to respect me and want to be with me, when my actions say that I don't respect myself? Yes, it's going to take a long time to completely untangle these three things, but bit by bit, I’m getting there.
Me
Monday 11 July 2011
Poems
Some poems I wrote a while back. Bear in mind I'm not a poet, this was just me to trying desperetaly to expel some of what I was feeling on the inside.
That Night
I just can’t get that night
That Night
I just can’t get that night
Out of my mind
I wish I could just
Leave the past behind
It needs to stop
This silent agony
I need to find a way
To set myself free
When I close my eyes
When I start to fall asleep
I can almost hear him
Laughing at me, knowing I’m weak
I can almost feel his hands
Touching and grabbing me
Demanding what is not his
Laughing at my quiet struggle to break free
I can almost taste him
As he forces my mouth and tongue
To pleasure him. Can almost hear him;
“Don’t stop until I’m done”
My breathing becomes harder
I’m fighting back the tears
I can hear him laughing
Even though it’s been years
I open my eyes
Stare at the ceiling
It was just a memory
When will I start healing?
It’s my dirty little secret
My only regret
I wasn’t strong enough to fight
My penance; I can no longer sleep at night.
Pain
I hurt myself;
When I'm filled with despair,
When my mind hurts so much,
When this pain I can no longer bear.
The physical pain helps me
To see it all through.
So hurting myself
Is the only thing I can do.
It's the pain in my head,
That's the real agony
So I turn to my knife;
It sets me free.
No one really understands,
So it remains a secret.
No one realises that the physical pain
Is my only outlet.
The knife cuts my skin,
The cig burns my arm,
These are the only things,
That will keep me calm.
The pain helps,
And wounds will heal,
But the blood is the only way,
To express what I feel.
I can't cry,
Or say I've given up,
That I wish to die.
So all I can do is cut.
Memories
His hands groping,
Feeling all over my body
I can't escape.
Oh God, why me?
His hands; they’re everywhere.
A tear rolls down my cheek
He laughs,
He knows I’m meek.
His breath, heavy on my face
I close my eyes, try to keep it out.
There's nothing I can do,
Can't even shout.
He's too strong,
He'll hurt me if I fight.
He says that if he wants,
He can do this all night.
He forces my hands, my mouth, on him,
Ignores my pleas.
Laughs again, his hands touching,
Sliding above my knees.
Finally, he's stopped, it's over.
But I have to live with it every day.
No amount of showers can wash the dirt away,
The fear disgust and shame is here to stay
Me
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