Victim Turned Survivor

As I sit here and write, I would love to speak about all the beauty and love and how wonderful this world is, however, sadly that is not the case. This world in my life was much darker.

When I was ten I was raped along with my friend, she knew this boy only a short while before he hurt us. I can still remember it like it was yesterday. After the incidents my life changed completely. The innocence and naive perspective a child has, that I once had, was completely gone. I feared everyone, not knowing then, but I was suffering from PTSD.

The nightmares, the severe anxiety, the panic attacks I had, had all become my norm. In the forth grade I tried to inform the teacher, who later told the counsler who then told my parents. I went and talked to Sexual Assault victims Unit (SAVU) in my county who quickly dismissed everything I said. Kids will be kids. In my case a 14 yr old boy had repeatedly raped a 10 yr old and a nine yr old.

I tried to move on, doing the best I could due living with PTSD and being only 10. Two years went by when one night when I was outside calling for my cat, a guy (I believe he was 19 at the time) molested me. I told the school and they informed the police. The police had an officer for a week escort my neighbor and myself to the bus stop. The reason for that was because he kept showing up at the bus stop I went too, sometimes at my house before hand to follow me there. The only reason the school found out is after the bus driver and the kids kept bullying me, saying is that your retarded boyfriend amongst other things, I went to the principal and explained all that was happening. I was never told whether or not they caught the guy.

A year passed and I was in Jr. High now. I was still struggling with everything, my emotions, my fear, the anxiety. I became a cutter eventually and attempted suicide. My parents got me into counseling but it only did so much. I was eventually committed to a mental health hospital. That part of my life is something I won't ever forget.

At first the mental health hospital didn't seem all to bad. The staff were at least nice enough, well most of them. Though, things changed and the hospital became a nightmare in of itself. Some of the male staff believed extra curricular activities with patients was the best therapy. I remember one time when the male nurse asked me to come to the office with him. He had me change into a gown, which was all fine and good, until he pulled my gown down. Every time I tried to pull it up he would push my hands away, at one point he even threatened to put me in restraints if I pulled up my gown. All I had on was my pants.

It was a few of the staff that were bad. One male staff member walked in the bathroom when I was using it, watching me and smiling. Another enjoyed watching you dress and undress. Unfortunately, it didn't much matter and no one came forward to say anything, we were all "crazy kids" who couldn't be trusted. I came out of the hospital with more PTSD then I went in with, along with a medicine cabinet full of meds. They surely did love drugging the children.

As much as this was a nightmare, there was more to come. When I was 15 I was drugged, kidnapped and raped by the least expecting person one could imagine. I stayed silent and honestly at that time I couldn't remember a whole lot. Through the years the memories that I subconsciously suppressed eventually came back. I still have gaps in that memory but for the most part I remember.

It's funny how the brain works, how the memories you try so hard to remember, come back; leaving you wishing that you never had remembered. I often wonder what would happen if I didn't remember anything, any of the assaults. However, would I still be the same person if I didn't?

School was still hard. It was either the students or teachers belittling me. Though, I have to say, the teachers were far worse. I could put up with the name calling from the students, it was the teachers who spread rumors, treated me like I was a disease or for the ones who didn't, decided I was an easy target and pushed me to my breaking point, that still haunts me.

Eventually I dropped out of school. I wasn't learning much anyhow and mentally I couldn't take anymore. By the time I was 18 I would love to say my life turned the corner, however, again this is not the case. Though, I felt less suicidal and had stopped cutting, I was still in a way harming myself. After all the sexual abuse, I felt that all I was good for and any guy would want me for, is for sexual favors. No, I did not become a hooker, but I would meet up with numerous guys a day, sometimes all week. I felt this was all I was good for and couldn't get my mind out of it.

A month past my 19th birthday my dad died of cancer. At that time I was down in Oregon living with my boyfriend at the time. We broke up and I moved back up to be with my mother, so she wouldn't be alone.