Thunderstorms

This is one I wasn't sure I was ever going to write about. 

One I don't want to relive it even in my head. 

Two ... This is the scariest post I've ever written.

    As we know I was abused as a kid. Sexual molestation and incest were not new to me. Being manipulated into sexual acts was nothing new to me. But rape was. You see, I have taken the sexual acts, the porn, the babysitters who would come in just to touch me or my siblings on a daily basis. My bio mom and stepdad would hit me, kick me, and lock me up. However, even in the worst moments, I expected this. I expected that sex or beatings would happen by the people that I saw every day. 

   What made this day so different than all the rest? The act itself. I was in middle school. I had gone to a friends house after school where she said she knew the guys. I had a sip of an alcoholic drink from an unopened can. (Note, this does not excuse what happened to me. No matter what you drink, say, dress or do no women or man deserves to be raped. or sexually acted upon. Period!!)

   On this particular day, there was a storm outside. We were inside. It was my friend, 3 guys, and me. I knew one of the two guys. I went to school with him. The other two guys were in high school. Freshman, I think. I didn't know them or their names. One of the guys asked me if I wanted to see his music. Being a huge music fan I said of course. I followed him into his room where he continued to close the door and lock it behind him. At this point, I knew something was wrong. So I turned around and he was right on me. His hands wrapped around my neck. His face so close to mine I could literally taste his breath. I tried to scream. I punched and kicked him. I clawed at him but none of it mattered. I felt his hands loosen from my neck but only for a second before I felt blow after blow to my face and stomach. He grabbed me and threw me onto the bed. Sitting on my chest, holding my hands above my head. he leaned down into me until his cheek was touching my bleeding cheek. He whispered that I wanted this. That I asked for it by entering his room willing. That I had to say yes. Pressing all of his body weight on my chest, gasping for breath, through tears and blood I managed to gasp out a yes...

   I was terrified, snot on my face, tears running down my red stained cheeks. I zoned out. All I could hear was thunder roaring over my cries. Silencing me as I laid their naked, bruised, and bleeding. His hands explored my body in ways that never should have been explored. His body pressed against mine in a heat of power and control. It was as if he was feeding off of the storm. Moving with the thunder and admiring his work with every stroke of lightning that shined through his window.

   I was broken, beaten and naked. When he had finished he threw my clothes at me. Telling me to get dressed that he didn't want to see my ugly body anymore. I was shaking so bad I couldn't get my pants back on. This made him angry. Again he hit me. He told me that I was worthless that this was something I wanted. I had said yes...

  I left his bedroom where the two other guys were watching TV in the front room. They looked at me and smiled. The guy from school had come up to me and told me to never speak of this night and with that, I was able to leave. My friend had gone home according to the guys, her mom wanted her home.

  I went home that night covered in blood and sweat. Not all of it mine. I showered and cried as I watched the blood wash over my feet and head towards the drain. I watched the memory of that night wash away from my physical body, but not my mind.

  I am now 24 years old. I have 2 kids and a loving husband. But in the end, I still cry and shake during thunderstorms and I can't control it. I wish I could stop my body from having this reaction but I can't.

  I decided to write about this because my husband expressed the pain he feels when I jump or hide my tears because I am embarrassed at the fact that I am still so afraid of thunderstorms. The guy was never prosecuted. The fact is, I never told anyone about it. I was tortured in school by the kid that was in the same grade as me. It became a constant reminder of what had happened to me.

  I believed at the time that no matter what affects it had on me, no matter the scars that were left, the fact that they had broken my mind, changed me. I honestly believed it was my fault, I said yes. 

  That night changed me forever. I was more cautious around men. I felt like my friend had set me up. How could she be friends with such sick people? Had this happened to her? I was afraid to ask her. I couldn't talk about it. I couldn't bring it up. So I didn't. I went to school alone and afraid. I pretend like nothing happened. Like that night was just a nightmare from a really bad horror movie. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. I was so ashamed of my body, of my clothes, of my secret.

 I felt like it was time to tell the story of my rape. This was one of the worst moments of my life. I wish I could forget about it. I wish that it had never happened. I wish that rape still to this day didn't happen. But it does. Too many people are ashamed that it happened to them. People don't want to relive the story over and over again. and for some, it's even more damaging to talk about it when the justice system proves time and time again that rape is OK and it can be manipulated into being the victim's fault over and over again. Rape victims already feel ashamed and disgusting. They don't need someone with power and money taking their story and flipping it around. Rape should never be hidden. I wish I had the courage to come out about it back in middle school, but I was so scared of my rapist and his friends, not being believed and them, whoever they might be, turning it around on me.

  It was not my fault, I was forced into sex by another person without proper consent. I was beaten into saying yes literally with what felt like my last breath. Part of me wishes that I would have fought and died that night because the life-long trauma of rape is forever. And it still affects me today. I didn't have family back then. I didn't have long-term friends who knew much about me and what was going on with my abusive family. I was alone. But I fought. I had to survive. and I did...

There is never a reason or justification for RAPE. No Man, Women, or Child deserves it. NO MATTER WHAT.

Having sex with someone who hasn’t consented is rape. The absence of NO does NOT mean YES! #stoprape #rapeisacrime 

Overcoming the fear of being a mom due to childhood abuse

The fear of becoming a mother was so overwhelming. I was petrified that I would one day become just like my mother. That somehow I wouldn't be able to tame the nightmare of a mother I grew up with. That her hell would one day become mine.

I grew up being told that I would never amount to anything. That I was doom to a cycle of abuse. Because it happened to me that I was going to do it to my own kids, spouse, etc. And For a moment that was true. I did beat on my fiance. I spent time in jail for it. But I am forever grateful for that moment in time when I was arrested and taken away to jail. I cried. I was terrified that prison was in my future. I was too young to go to prison. I was only 18. 

I was given a fine, had to do some rehab/alcoholic course due to being intoxicated when the officers arrived, and a 12-week intense anger management course. This course saved my life!! I knew that I had to change. I knew that I was angry and I never really dealt with the anger in foster care. Why? Because I was rebellious and being forced to talk about shit I wasn't ready to talk about pissed me off. So I held things back. There are things about my past that I have never told anyone and I still had anger built up by the secrets and abuse.

So I took the class and graduated! I was so proud of myself for that. Regardless of it being court ordered, I was an adult. I had to face my own shit. I could have ended up in prison for domestic violence. Or had more jail time for being drunk in public. I was grateful to the judge for getting me help instead of locking me away. 

I learned so many great things in that class that I still use today. And with being a mom a lot of those things have really helped me to be a better mom I think. I fear that if I hadn't had that freak out crazy controlling psycho girlfriend moment I wouldn't be who I am today. I've always been so scared to love someone because I never wanted to be like my mom. I never wanted to hurt anyone the way she hurt me. Especially my kids. 

Now that I have kids I live every day by a minute at a time. I have too. Kids are frustrating. They are hard and oh my god do they know how to push those tiny little covered in cobweb buttons you didn't even know you had. Who knew that coloring, swimming, or even going for a car ride could be a scream fest that makes you want to rip your hair out in complete rage! BUT with all this button pushing and scream fest shit that goes on with having kids.. you also get the fun-loving side. The side where they feed you fake cupcakes, bang wooden spoons on pans, draw a picture of the family with that silly sun in the corner of the page. Or the bubbles in the bathtub when they pretend they are Santa Clause. When they are sick and only want to snuggle. Those are the moments that make you smile. That warm your heart. Those are the moments that I hold on too. 

I didn't have a lot of good memories growing up. Maybe because my parents didn't care enough about me to give me any but because of how I grew up and the way that I was raised I learned what not to do. I learned the signs of abuse and what can also trigger abuse. I do not fear myself as a parent anymore because I know that I have the tools needed, even in the hardest times, to overcome any emotion or urge and be the best mom I can be. I know that abuse runs in my family and I know that I have had anger problems in the past that could and have come up when dealing with my kids. But I am also strong enough and smart enough to know my signs, to know my triggers, and to know when it is time for me to take a break. I know when I have been pushed too far with my kids. And because I choose to not run from my past but instead deal with its long-term mental consequences I think that I am a better mom for it. 

I love my kids with every ounce of my being even when they become little turd muffins. They are the light of my life. And I will always put my kids first and do whatever it takes to protect them from abuse. I will not let the cycle continue from my biological family into my kid's life. I survived the horror of my childhood. And I will kick ass at being a mother even when I screw up because let's face it. All parents do!