Dear... Victims Of Non Violent Rape
This is how experimenting with drugs led to me being raped by a trusted family friend in my own home.
When I was 17 years old, I was in a bit of a weird situation. I was attempting to be friends with my ex-boyfriend who was still in love with me and I with him. He had a new girlfriend, though and I had a boyfriend across the country (he also happened to be cheating on me but of course I didn’t know that). I was determined to not be a home wrecker. I got on with my ex’s new girlfriend well and we all hung out often. One night while partying with my ex and a few others, I decided to try Xanax for the first and only time. My ex was struggling with it then and I wasn’t around enough to realize that it was a problem. From a young age I have suffered from anxiety and thought at most it would level me out, but I had no idea how loose too much would make me. I became far too care free and desperately missing my boyfriend who I couldn’t get a hold of, I went home and begged my siblings and friends for cuddles. Nobody took me up on the offer except for my older brothers friend. I had known him for years and he was staying with us. Somehow, I don’t remember how, it led to sex that I legally could not consent to. I also had a lot of alcohol in my system.
I woke the next day overwrought with guilt and not realizing that my rape was just that, I accepted that I was a cheater. My rapist didn’t realize he was a rapist and though I didn’t know it at the time, that first rape set an unhealthy precedence. I called my boyfriend and dumped him as simply as I could. I then started up a relationship with my rapist, refusing to let my previous relationship die in vain. I mean, it might as well be worth it, right?
I lived with and supported him for twelve of the eighteen months we were together. He almost never worked and my mother was constantly helping us stay afloat. (I turned 18 during this time) meanwhile my ex on the other side of the country was constantly vying for my affection. I’m no longer ashamed to admit that I was all but his girlfriend at the time. Again, I didn’t know he was seeing someone else. He was always begging me to leave my rapist and move back east with him and I almost did more than once. What kept me from doing just that was fear that I would get hurt again (he had broken up with me once before). That’s laughable. Little did I know that the man I was living with wasn’t my savior from pain and he would hurt me, had already hurt me and ruined my life.
I was woken one night by him rubbing against me. I didn’t let him know that I was awake. I was uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say so I stayed quiet. I remember thinking “is he going to rape me?” just moments before he did just that.
Now, I must say at this point that I have always considered myself a strong woman who sticks up for myself and others. But I always thought rape was a violent thing every time and it didn’t quite register in my brain for what it was. After all, he was always nice, hadn’t pinned me down and never hit me so I had no idea I was being abused. Not to mention my denial.
“Something like that couldn’t happen to me and I am no victim! He wouldn’t do that! I chose this.” These are all things I would tell myself. Even with the clear thought that he might rape me, I refused to accept it for what it was. I let him do what he would do and never said a word. But then, on another night, it happened again. Twice now he had sex with me while thinking I was unconscious. I couldn’t ignore that.
That’s when I stopped having sex with him and let distance come between us. A month later, I amicably broke up with him and he moved out. It was another 7 years before I finally realized it for what it was. It was a smack in the face to discover that my ex, who was a “nice guy” was my rapist. The many symptoms and emotions that come with rape were easily overlooked because I experienced them all already due to being molested as a small girl.
Too late I had to deal with the emotions of being a rape victim which I did on my own. I became desperate for validation and began spiraling downward without even knowing. My anxiety worsened and I constantly felt like I didn’t matter and was unworthy of love. What little motivation I had for life vanished. My sexual desires took a dark turn. These are all things I still face today along with constantly feeling like it happened to someone else.
To this day, I have told less than a handful of people. My wonderful boyfriend of several years has no idea.
It’s too late to speak up now and I couldn’t prove a damn thing even if I did. I am afraid of being mocked, blamed and not believed. These are legitimate fears when we live in a victim blaming society as we do. Not to mention the victim almost always feels responsible. This is true for me. I’m not sure why I jotted this down, except that maybe there is someone in a situation like mine who WILL realize it and who WILL do something about it. Don’t wait until you’re searching for answers and healing at the bottom of a bottle to change your life! Speak up and maybe you’ll save the next victim a whole lot of heartache and mental disorder.