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Suvivor Story Two close window
I am a childhood survivor of sexual trauma and later acquaintance rape. My trauma experience begins during a story time at a church. I couldn’t understand why this man had such a special interest in me. He separated me from the group with his book. I couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8 years old. This man that I’d never met manipulated my vaginal area in the basement of a church. I froze and I really didn’t understand what was happening to me and I allowed it to happen. After what seemed like a short time, he finished and the much older man let me go and told me to bring my friends back with me next time. I continued going to that church and being fearful of that man and that basement. I never took my friends down there and warned others to stay away but never told them why. I remember thinking that I couldn’t tell a soul because no one would believe an ugly girl like me. I felt ugly, dirty, disgusting, guilty and ashamed for many years that followed. My first sexual intercourse experience was through an acquaintance rape. I didn’t know it was rape at the time. There was lots of drinking involved. He moved me to another location. One that was reserved, just for us. I said yes to the kissing and touching because I liked this guy. He was cute, he was older and he was paying me the “ugly duckling” attention and affection and he seemed like he genuinely liked me. Before I knew it, he was on top and inside of me. I fought and I wiggled but, it didn‘t help.

I gave up and just kind of laid there and waited for him to finish what seemed like an eternity of his moaning and grunting. From then on, he had forced sex with me every single time that I was with him. I saw him frequently and that was mostly on weekends and at night. He would often trick me into spending time with him by saying that we were going out to eat or to a movie but, he would always have to stop and get something from that apartment or stop and park his car at that park. He came from a privileged background he had a car, access to a very nice apartment and money. My parents were convinced because he was a star athlete at my school and came from both a good family and neighborhood that he had good character. My parents still don’t know to this day because I would never share this with them but, he turned into a monster every time I was alone with him. He stole a piece of me with every assault. I became lesser and lesser than I already was. I was reduced to nearly nothing –to rubble –to trash. I struggled with him every single time. I began wearing more clothing lots of layers with lots of small buttons, snaps and zips to make it more work for him to get to my skin whenever I went out with him but, it didn’t matter he was much older, larger, stronger and smarter than I. He made up his mind that he wanted sex and I was there to give it to him on demand. I now realize that he set me up. I was a very naïve young

lady and not at all experienced when it came to boys, although I thought I was. He used his elder brother’s apartment set–up nearly every time, other times; it was the backseat of his car. I was confused because he was the very first person that I’d actually had sex with –wasn’t I supposed to love him? I made myself love him and I felt ugly, dirty, guilty, hopeless, used and ashamed he piled more guilt on me like weights. I became promiscuous because I couldn’t understand what happened to me and I didn’t value my body or myself. As a result, I have a trail of abusive past relationships one after another and another. I am here to say to any survivor that there is hope for everyone, even me because it took some time and I had great support and I eventually moved past all of the hurt and pain of my past. The biggest thing is that I learned to love, value and appreciate myself for the talents, skills and abilities that I have to include all of my wonderful shortcomings. I learned that I am beautiful, smart, and desirable. Everyone, even I deserve to be loved and appreciated for who I am and who I am becoming and not just for the pleasure that my body could potentially give to someone. Your story doesn’t have to end like mine. I appreciate the opportunity to share my story and I hope that this will somehow help someone else who may be struggling or perhaps someone who has struggled with a similar situation in their past. There is help –seek it.

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