My Sexual Abuse Story
A #SurvivorStory by Rares
I am a victim of sexual abuse. When I was a little girl, someone my family trusted broke me, over and over, for years. To this day, I lie to myself and say that I am okay and that I am just overthinking if I get in too deep. I am still deeply ashamed of this for some reason, which is why I keep my mouth shut about it. Being sad is an emotion, and emotions are normal, and everyone deals with them at many points in their life. So maybe I do overreact, but aren’t I allowed to feel some type of way about it?
He took my innocence and self-worth. I self destruct everyday and make decisions that ruin my life but I can’t help it. My mind is stuck and my thoughts consume me. I have a light, pure heart, but it doesn’t feel that way because of what he put me through.
I try to smoke my pain away. It feels so good to be able to forget about the rest of the world, to just fade out, and dissociate from reality. But that high goes away, and that feeling returns, that same emptiness. It’s a cycle of pain in my head, my mind, and no matter how much I try to dull it, I can’t act like its not there. There is a pit somewhere in my body filled with darkness because of him.
If only I told someone about it, maybe things would have been different. My brain is filled with poison, filled with what if’s. What if I screamed, what if I called the police? But I didn’t, and that’s the problem. So maybe it was my fault. But I know it wasn’t. But doesn’t that put some sort of fault on me? I miss X like crazy, relating to his music was my other escape. Being high and listening to his songs was everything to me, but he’s gone, and that shit hurts, knowing there is nothing else to connect with.
I am trapped in this life, trapped in a life in where my thoughts jumble in my head, where I fight everyday to keep breathing. I think at times that I’m going fucking CRAZY because there are so many voices in my head telling me different things, but I know I’m not.
I recently told my friends at school about it through text, but I’m such a fucking pussy that I can’t even SPEAK about it in person. No words come out my mouth. It feels like there is barbed wire in my throat and every time I try to talk, the tears just come out instead.
HE touched me, destroyed me, abused me, guilted me, and he walks free. But what about the thoughts and pain that I go through?
My family never even noticed the shit I went through. I would have figured that maybe my brother and sister would have thought something was going on, when he would make up stupid excuses to isolate me from them, to bring me into a different room. That time where we were at his house, and my cousin came into the room asking if I wanted food, and he said no, we’re sleeping. He made EXCUSES, and nobody else fucking thought any deeper about it. How could they not think something was wrong?
My parents think I’m perfectly fine, that I’m just a regular 19 year old who goes to college, works, and uses her phone. That depression is not a real thing to teenagers like me, because we have no real life issues to stress or worry about.
Regardless, I love both of my parents even if we don’t always see eye to eye. I am just so tired of being trapped in my mind and reliving the same shit every single fucking day. I am so tired of fucking crying and being sad. I am so fucking tired of thinking about how I will have to go through this for the rest of my life. So what IF I decided to end it, right here, right now? Would anybody even care? I’ll have to carry this with me to my grave.
These voices in my head really make me think that I’ll just end up dead in a few years because the thought of living like this is too much. Do I just carry on with this pain inside of my head, inside of my chest? If I can’t be happy in this moment right now, how will I ever be okay in the future?
I wish someone, just one person, looked deeper into my life to see why I’m so fucked up, but everyone just sees the exterior, the outside. Where I’m laughing and happy with my friends, where I temporarily forget about everything. But that R train ride home is where it all hits again, where I realize that I can’t run from my problems. They will always be there to follow me wherever I go. It is what it is. I’ll always be messed up, but it’s the way of life.
This pain will never end and I truly believe that my death is the only thing that will bring me peace. Everyone is so scared of dying, of their lives ending, but isn’t it crazy that I’ll be waiting on death with a smile on my face, just like X said.
I’m so tired of hurting to where I feel nothing, to where I feel numb.
I can’t possibly be so selfish to end my suffering, and bring that to those who do care for me.
I can only hope that my broken heart and mind heal, that I see the light at the end of the tunnel, and that the sun shines again for me one day.