Real Rape, Real Recovery

whatthecastiel:

Read More

whatthecastiel:

It’s not, believe me.  And I wish people would stop using it as such.

I feel like few people take it seriously or think about what victims are going through because it was become a four letter word, a sound that comes out of someone’s mouth without any meaning behind it.  People conveniently forget that it means having forced sex.  People forget that it is one of the most violent acts in existence, and that normalizing it actually does make it happen more often.  People don’t think about the connection of trauma to rape anymore, or how a ‘funny joke’ affects a victim, and how the laughter makes that victim question their own identity.  People forget what rape actually is. 

Whether this is because it’s convenient for them, or because they’re scared, or don’t want to deal with the ugliness of it all, this is something that people need to get over so that this can stop.  I guarantee you, any victim is not living a convenient life, as they never feel safe around anyone anymore, including themselves.  Any victim is more scared than most people can ever imagine, of every stranger who walks by, every room they have to enter alone, every unknown number that calls their phone.  And, any victim is dealing with mountains more than they want to deal with, and more than anyone should ever have to deal with.

People forget that every time a victim hears the word, ‘rape,’ they are reminded of what is most likely the most traumatic event they have had to survive.  People forget that victims really are, ‘rape survivors,’ as some of them were threatened with murder.  People forget that those who weren’t threatened with death are still victims.  

People take for granted what it feels like to feel entitled to your body and the things that happen to it.  These same people make sure that rape victims feel they have no right to their body at all with victim blaming and rape jokes.  People forget that a victim remembers every word they hear about how they should feel about this, because they feel more lost than ever and don’t know what to do, or how to get through it.  People forget that this experience and those words stay with victims for the rest of their lives.  People forget that while someone can deal and cope with such an experience, it never goes away.  My mother was raped 35 years ago and still has random flashbacks when things remind her of her experience.  She can’t sleep with an open window because society told her it was her fault that night.  

I don’t care what your excuse is.  Rape culture is real, and needs to stop.  Rape is never funny.  Rape is never okay.  Rape is never just a word.

If you’ve taken the time to read this, it only takes one more second to reblog, and help to end victim blaming.

I wanted to double check with you guys and make sure I don’t sound like a bitch or that I’ve written anything that could start an argument or sounds unfair:

Read More

publicpolicebox replied to your post: My sister has been extremely peppy, smiley, and…

My sister has been extremely peppy, smiley, and lighthearted since she got home.  Inviting me to go out with her, have tea with her, asking how my day was.  This would be awesome, except for the fact that she either, a) doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with our relationship and is seemingly completely unaware  of my hurt and discomfort, or, b) is over compensating with kindness and consciously ignoring my hurt and discomfort.

My therapist recommended I write her a letter stating in summary, “I’m not okay with the way things are, here is what I would like to happen, and I would like us to talk about it.  I will leave it up to you when or if we will, but until then, please be respectful of my wishes in our relationship.”

I’ve thought about writing said letter several times today.  It’s much harder than it seems to remain so civil when all I want to do is yell and scream and sob at her.  It kills me (but is also a good thing, because I wouldn’t wish this on anyone) that she will never understand my pain or my anger.  I have never even expressed anger to her before, not true, deep anger, and I’ve never been this angry at her before in our entire lives.  She’ll never get it, not ever.  All the things she’s said to me that I think about so often are just forgotten in her mind.  

I just don’t understand why I should have to be the one.  I told her we needed to talk the last time she was home, and she ignored me.  Now she’s ignoring me again, but in a completely disrespectful way, by acting as if there’s no tension between us, which just disregards any feelings but her own.  

Why is it this relationship just gets harder on my side.  Why shouldn’t she have to deal with a little bit too.

It sounds so spiteful and petty to say it that way, but I’m just so angry and hurt I don’t know what to do with myself, and apparently it doesn’t even matter at all.

I asked my mom how long my sister is staying.  Luckily it’s just for the weekend.  Only till Monday.  Even though that’s still too long.

She invited herself to have tea with me last night, and she was a peppy and smiley.  Just carried on like nothing is wrong with our relationship.  

My mom asked me if I was okay.

I immediately answered, “no.”

What the fuck did she expect to hear?

I don’t know how long she’s staying.  Hopefully just for the long weekend.  

I just honestly cannot fucking believe my day today.

Like seriously?  Full on flashback before my show’s final dress rehearsal, and then as I pull into my driveway, my sister is dragging her bag into the house like a fucking horror movie or something.

And then she just acts like everything’s all peachy keen between us by offering me a book that was signed, which I already have 2 signed copies of.

I was even civil from the moment I walked inside.  We passed each other on the stairs, and I said hello to her first, because that’s what polite people do. Also it was a fucking brave move (not to sound conceited, but I just have a lot of emotions surrounding this and her) because I have avoided saying anything to her the past 3 times she’s been home.  I even asked her what she thought of the book she was trying to buy my affections with.

I borrowed a series of her books while she was gone, and I told her that, and she got all prickly and said, “Oh…well, it’s just, I wish you would text me or something when you borrowed my books,” which would have been fine if she hadn’t had this condescending inflection.  

I just wanted to spit back at her, “Yeah, well, I wish you would educate yourself about the factual evidence and effects of depression, and also to stop telling me how I should feel about a crime that was committed against me, especially since you have never even talked with me about either one unless you were yelling.  But, you know, we don’t always get what we fucking want, do we?”

I held my tongue.  It’s going to be a fucking long weekend.

I am more than what he did to me. I am more than what society tells me I am. I am a person not a sexual object. I have a right to happiness, I have a right to recognize this as a crime that was committed against me.

I accidentally wrote “not” before the word “committed” which just goes to show how much I believe those words.

Having flashbacks backstage and feeling silenced because no one in my cast knows and its not something one just brings up.

So my performance and confidence tonight is just another thing he’s taken away from me.

Triggering day to say the least.

• nudity.  being safe in my own body in the same state that I was raped in is just about the best feeling in the world.
• putting situations on my own terms.  my mom kept telling me that i couldn’t let my rapist win by giving up things in my life, but i hated that because it implied i was still playing his game.  i live my own life.  it’s been so important to me to put as many situations as possible, especially ones where i feel unsafe, on my own terms, since my rape was not on my terms at all.
• masturbation.  if this freaks you out, judge me or whatever, fine, i’ve had enough of that in my life that it’s nothing new.  masturbation allowed me to change sexual pleasure from a 100% bad and evil thing into something again, that was on my terms, and that i could stop at any time just by thinking the word, ‘no’.  it allowed me to reclaim my body as my own by beginning to take back a huge area of my life that was dominated by someone else after being raped.  my therapist actually recommends this to rape victims, when they are ready to handle it.
• letting my leg hair grow out.  my mom stopped shaving her legs after she was raped when she was 20, and i always thought it was to make herself less desirable to men, which made her feel more comfortable.  now, after being raped myself, i get how fucked up that belief was.  i stopped shaving my legs because i don’t want to have to look a certain way to feel like a proper woman.  men have already had enough control over my body for a lifetime, the societal norms created by men can go fuck themselves.
• dressing for myself.  Societal expectations of how women are supposed to look and act is half of what got me into this mess in the first place.
• letting it show.  although i only talk to a select few about having been raped in real life, those who i do talk to know that it is always on my mind, that i constantly think about it, how much it affects me.  not in a way that it is all i talk about, but with these people, i’m not afraid to talk about it, and while a few close friends may not seem like much, talking about the situation with anyone has helped to ever so slowly reduce some of the shame i feel.

I fuck up.  A lot.  There are times none of these apply because I’m having a bad, triggering day, and there are times where all of them apply and I feel I could take on the world.  I don’t know I just felt the need to list them, to maybe help out other people, and also for me to identify in the future if I ever need them.

I should also note that each of these steps took so much time.  Some days I still get scared being naked in the short time it take for me to change out of my pajamas.  I let a lot of situations pass by while I sit silently frozen in a corner.  I don’t let myself think of it as failure because in such situations with impossible odds, even getting up in the morning to try is a winning play.