memoirs

the sexual memory i tried forgetting: victim?! survivor?! neither!?

This post is part three of a story that began here.

This story is about how a guy I did not know had sex with me without my permission and I didn’t say anything.

In this post you’ll get to read about how I felt and approached sex after.

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victim?! survivor?! neither!?

 A little over sixteen years ago, I had an experience that I carried with me for a very long time before I finally processed it.

I had taken a shower after he raped me but as my tears ran down my body cleaning my body better than soap and water ever could, my mind decided to put the experience into that secret place so that I could forget and move on. After that shower, I never thought about what happened, I never considered myself a victim, I much less would have thought of myself as a survivor. I didn’t want to think about it; I wanted to get back to being the sexual woman that had never had a bad sexual experience not even in her worst relationship.

It wasn’t until a little over a year ago, when someone commented on a piece I wrote about choking and rough sex that I realized how my mind had chosen to process this experience that from what I knew most women would react differently to. When the person left the comment she said that as someone that was a survivor of sexual abuse that she didn’t understand how women could enjoy rough sex my response to her comment reactivated the memory of this experience.

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the sexual memory i tried forgetting: non-consensual sex

This post is part two of a story that began here.

This story is about how a guy I did not know had sex with me without my permission and I didn’t say anything.

In this post you’ll get to read about how I woke up from a drunken stupor to find an unknown man having non-consensual sex with me, what I did about it and what happened immediately after.

All names except my own have been changed.

***

non-consensual sex

I had gone to sleep with my head resting on a friend’s shoulder and I had woken up on a strange couch with an even stranger man with his penis inside of me. Of course a man that doesn’t care enough to wake up the woman he wants to have sex with to ask if she wants it too wouldn’t take the time to pull panties off. It had been a combination of panties rubbing on my inner labia and pain in my vagina that had woken me up.

At first I thought I was having an awful nightmare and I tried to tell myself to wake up. I did wake up more but the nightmare wasn’t going away. There he still was on top of me, inside of me and thrusting away. I pulled up as much as I could to look around him and I saw that there were three other men and some woman I didn’t know not too far from us on another couch. I could hear the T.V. they were watching. I could also hear Jasmine’s voice, giggles and moans in the distance.

At first when I woke up I thought about fighting him but it was after I saw other people in the room (especially other men) that I decided to not fight. I had no idea where I was, who these people were and no idea what they would do to me if I fought this man.

Everything in my body wanted to fight. Everything in my body told me to fight so I could get free, run out the door and call for help. Everything in my body told me to scratch his face, dig my nails into his eyes then begin punching with all the strength I could muster. Everything said fight but in the back of my mind as quickly as the screams to fight had started I heard a voice telling me to just be still.

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the sexual memory i tried forgetting: clubbing with friends

This is a story that I have never shared with anyone. Not one of my best friends and especially not anyone that I have ever been involved with romantically or sexually. This is the one story which I have always been ashamed of; I put it deep, so deep, into that secret place that I swore I had forgotten about it. I had forgotten that I had tried to forget about it until it came time to teach my oldest son the definition of rape.

This story has been haunting me again since.

This story is about how a guy I did not know had sex with me without my permission and I didn’t say anything.

What happened that night has bothered me always but it especially hurts that I am still afraid to tell this story. I am so ashamed of this that I haven’t even been able to tell the man that loves me most that another man used me, changed me forever and easily walked away probably without any remorse much less knowing how deeply he violated my mind and body.

This story will not include an intellectual analysis of rape. In fact it is the opposite of that. This story is my account of what happened the night when I felt that a piece of my sexuality was stolen from me. Forever. It is the story of what happened before and how I found myself in a situation that led to the rape, it is the story of what happened during, how I felt and approached sex after.

It is a long story which I’ve decided to break up into a few posts. In this post you’ll get to read about the events that lead up to the situation.

All names except my own have been changed.

***

clubbing with friends

A little over sixteen years ago, I went clubbing on a Friday night with my friend Jasmine that was a furious drinker, that kept putting us in bad situations and that I had almost lost all trust in. I went because I liked dancing, she had promised that like me she would only have a drink or two that night and because another friend was the one that would be doing the driving.

We had so much fun just barely tipsy giggling and dancing for the first couple of hours. Jasmine asked if we wanted one last beer each. Cristina said yes and because I felt that the situation was safe I also said yes. When Jasmine brought the beers back she returned with this guy she had hooked up with a few times and his friends. Suddenly, the mood changed as she danced happily with him while encouraging us to get to know his friends. Cristina and I didn’t want anything to do with any of his friends.

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almost a year ago

What follows is the transcript of my journal entry from December 31, 2010. I have not written in my journal since that day because instead I wrote here. I guess I am sharing it because it was this journal entry that gave me the strength to share more than I thought was possible with strangers.

I was very weak then but not so much these days. The power I have found in candor is endless and incredible. If it hurts my advice to you is write it down and let it go.

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a few good-at-sex-men

When I talk to my friends about their first sexual relationships some of them shudder then laugh. I’ve heard all sorts of stories from friends about why they had sex with the first few men. Their reasons range from wanting to lose their virginity and thinking it was the “next phase” of their relationships to wanting their boyfriends to love them and because they were afraid to lose the boyfriend they loved to another girl that would “put out”. Few of my friends have admitted that the reason why they had sex with the first few men in their lives was because they wanted to and they wanted to experience the pleasure of sex.  I guess that from the beginning I didn’t think about sex like my girlfriends did.

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quinceañera

If things had been different…

…Tomorrow, you’d be celebrating your Quince while everyone wished you a very happy birthday.

My reality is…

…Memories of what could have been while I wonder if I should even consider September 8th your birthday.

If things had been different…

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thankful for new beginnings

This week is going to be one crazy roller coaster ride because we officially start back up with school. We aren’t new to homeschooling but we are not experts either. This will be my third year teaching my older two and the second year teaching all three boys. Last year was incredibly hard. We started off well. We had lofty goals set but we fell very short of them. It was like every single thing that could possibly go wrong did. Teaching isn’t something that I ever saw myself doing. I especially would not have thought I’d be teaching my three sons at home. Long ago, I thought that homeschooling was for weirdos that were well just weird. Just like with everything else that I have ended up doing since I became a mother – a choice here, a situation there and another choice led me to doing something I never even thought I could, would or should do.

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his truth is similar to mine

Light is beginning to fill my house this morning. From my bedroom I can see it creeping up the stairs coming for me but yesterday began with little light. I am not that woman that likes to look into the past too often. This year my motto has been Pa’lante which literally translates to forward. I have been working towards becoming a better woman so that I can finally sit happily in my skin and just be. So, when last week a very important man from my past wrote me again on Facebook I hesitated writing him back. I sat for a minute trying to decide if responding could lead to pain the answer was yes but then I remembered a prayer I had made a year ago.

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