She's a Survivor... Like Me (Trigger: Child/Sexual Abuse)

Note as of March 4, 2012: This post was edited several times after the original posting for grammar and to clarify some stuff. I was writing emotionally at the time of the post and did not see the errors until afterwards. Also, my recollection of my mother’s passing was inaccurate and “X” out. 

thegoddamazon:

I’ve debated sharing this on my personal blog—and I will post it as a protected password-only entry later, and I’ve debated sharing this on Twitter. Mostly because I know that somehow, people I don’t want to see it (yet) will get wind of it, but I’m brave, and I can handle it.

…

I have this admiration for Aisha . No one really knows why other than the graphics here and there. So, I’m about to tell ya why.

I shared a common bond with her. She knows about it… and I will tell you. I was molested at the age of 7. I won’t say by who. I will say it’s a relative and I will say it’s a female. And I will say that it did affected me in a huge way.

It affected me in such a way that at times, I hate what I became. 

Now, being a guy, males may not look at this like it’s a problem. Honestly, when your mind is not ready for something someone forced on you, it can warp your view about the opposite sex and more if it’s not handled properly.

Because of my early exposure, my innocence was gone.

Mentally, I was more close minded than I should be because when I said something at a young age… no one believed me. 

Because of lack of evidence, this made me kept secrets and anger locked up inside because everyone thought it was “my imagination” and nothing more. Even thought it would be unusual for a boy to play with himself before puberty and they saw this behavior. This lead me to become a person who have a conflicted view of sex… but more so, a boy who would grew up not knowing how to handle life because I didn’t have no one close to really talk to about it. I didn’t know what was worse; the fact I was molested and didn’t know or the fact that no one believed me… until after I turned 23. At that time, I was able to finally open about it… but even then, it was a “too little, too late” thing.

Dealing with the opposite sex was like a “win-lose” battle for me. I take rejection to the heart, and that drove me nuts. But as I grew older, I started to developed a twisted view of women that would taint relationships.

However, there was a bigger issue at state… my way of handling bullies. 

Because I hang out with women (a lot), people in high school would call me “anti-man” or worse… “faggot”. I killed them 10 times in my head… but I wasn’t a strong person and I had a lot at stake because within my family, I was known to have violent outbursts at times.

So, to prevent me from becoming a troubled youth, I dealt with problems a little differently. I started to developed a persona and people thought that I was crazy. I was similar to the character Corna from Soul Eater. If someone punched me, no matter how much it hurts, I acted like I enjoyed getting hurt, screamed and started hurting myself. This will cause people to back off because they noticed that I had no fear in hurting me, so they can only imagine what happens when I hurt them. Because of this action, no bully thought of attacking me or picking on me… it was pointless.

Because of my reputation in high school, some of the girls tried to put me at ease. I am viewed as a sweetheart for most of my life. But that’s because they don’t know the battles within my mind to stay that way. I started to realized that maybe I will never get passed that point… that maybe this is “as good as it’ll get” and I decided to leave this mystery unsolved. Yet, I also felt “entitled” to women. Life would teach me otherwise, but my ego was a massive one. (Today I no longer feel this way in general. I grew out of the “entitlement” behavior.)

When my mother got ill in Dec 200X (I don’t recall when my mother was ill at the moment), however, that’s when old wounds reopened… and I faced the person who did it for the first time in years. I told her “please… just tell me you did it. Between me and you. No one beyond us will know. I need closure on this.” She told me that she didn’t do it and cried tears, asking me why I lied to everyone about this. In the back of my mind, I had unspeakable horrors visioned in there. I wanted her to know… in graphic detail… what I was thinking. But I held back… and I figured “she’ll tell me sorry one day.”

I accepted her back into my life, but only for friendly chat. She decided to cut me off 4 weeks after my mom died of cancer in Jan. 2003. I never got my closure… and I thought… “maybe it’s a figment of my imagination”… maybe I need to stop blaming her. It didn’t feel right, but she was writing my ending for me… and I didn’t like it.

Because of this, I was developing something deep… I started to become suicidal. Failed relationships, failed goals, I didn’t want to take part in this world. When things started to look bad, I decided to call someone close to me, a relative that I came I respected growing up. I called her to help me understand why I felt this way. It turned out that my mother kept some things… to herself… and my father wasn’t educated on it… or was and never wanted to tell me. A lot of it is so personal that I can’t post it here. However, I will say this: she mentioned “and (so and so) wanted to grab you up…” and I stopped her. I said, “wait, what you mean?” She then told me that around age 17, she couldn’t trust me around (so and so) because she felt something was wrong with her. I asked “why don’t you speak up for me when I mentioned it?” She did… and she couldn’t talk sense into them. She thought not to talk to me about it because she saw that my development would only get worse.

I didn’t know what to say. It took me days to finally get over all it, all the secrets that was kept from me. “This isn’t my fault. I didn’t brought this on to myself,” I kept saying to myself. I decided to close the case… I wanted closure… yet, no one understood me.

Near the end of 2011, I followed the most eccentric woman on Twitter. She’s 10 years younger than me, a geek and got the most pornographic mind ever. Yeah, that would be Goddamazon. I like her attitude towards life, but I was at odds with her blog… mostly when she blogged about gay action. I didn’t need that shit on my dashboard, so I unfollow her blog, but kept her twitter account on. 

I was really digging Goddamazon otherwise. And one day, I checked her Tumblr and noticed a story about survival. I thought “yeah, I like to read that!” Not knowing what it was really about, I click on that link.

Then, I was upset… my wound reopened… only this time… I felt like it was needed to be revisited. I read her story… and I cried. 

I followed her back immediately and started to talk to her on Twitter a bit more. I was pretty much was trying to get her to follow me without knowing why. And then back on tumblr, we both finally connected. Eventually, she started to talk to me and then… I shoot her a thank you note. 

I never came off the bat before about being molested to anyone and I really admired her for sharing the story. For the first time, I finally had someone who understood me.

I was finally able to have some closure… and I needed it. I didn’t realized how much it was still affecting my abilities to accept certain things in reality. And I got her to thank.

Aisha is an amazing woman, who has similar traits to me as far as not only being nerdy/geeky, but helping people out by not being quiet and making you uncomfortable. By her being brave enough to tell her story, here I am telling you mine.

There’s still a lot in my life I need to get right with me. You’ll noticed that Aisha and I are both different when it comes to what we choose to talk about… but that won’t stop us from supporting one another. 

So, here are some similarities

• We both were molested.
• We both had issues accepting this.
• We both thought it was our fault.
• We both attacked people due to it. 
• We both feared our sexuality will be questioned.

I love her for that. Love her for that.  So…

… it upsets me when someone decided to take her wonderful story and twisted it. 

DO NOT TWIST THIS WOMAN’S WORDS!

You have no right when you don’t know what she… or I… been through. And you’ll never will. 

We live life just like everyone else. And we’ll call people out because we don’t want what happen to us happen to anyone else. And if it does happen to them, we want to let them know… it’s not your fault. There’s people out there that is going through what you went though.

I am here to talk to anyone that went through that experience. I want to heal… just like how Aisha healed me.

Thank you, Aisha. Thank you, love. I think this is a good way to write that ending she told me about…

… *sighs* I feel better.