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Thread: i am not a victim

  1. #1
    ReachOut Regular
    Join Date
    Nov 2015

    i am not a victim

    I had the intentions to be what my mother saw I would be when I was comfortable inside of her tummy. She gave me the air in my lungs and rhythm in my talk and I thought I should repay her. I kept the bows she pinned in my hair still during recess because she liked them that way. All I wanted to be was happy for my mother because some days she would come home with tears surrounding her cheeks. I never understood our rides back from school where she bit her arm to choke back the tears, until now. In which is when I started to pinch my skin in class hopping no one can see my embarrassment every time someone mentions rape. The skin now has blubbing marks from new and white scars from old. The life I once held in my mind faded away once the boy’s hormones rushed to their brains and stranger’s fingertips started to randomly touch my shoulder. The once familiar chills ran down my vertebras like it was the playground of 2006. Something I kept forbidden from my main thought line because the setting caused nightmares and the feelings caused trauma. It snuck back in and fell beside all of the smiles and memories I kept from my younger years.
    But since that day when the memories came back, my bow became a little crooked. I couldn’t stand the feeling of fingertips or the sensation of hugs. The human touch was tainted by the six hands that got too comfortable under my tiny pink dress. It was tainted by the “misunderstanding” the boys liked to nickname the life changing event. I am not who my mother envisioned. I am the little girl crying in the swings after the 8th graders went inside for lunch. My rhythm in my talk went flat and the air became harder to breathe. Likewise, my self-esteem went flat and the idea of life became harder to breathe once the memories returned. My skin became a place to write my pent up issues in bright burgundy. Nights of scratching my own legs hopping I would cause rips in the already wounded skin just for I could feel the sensation of anything besides anxiety and wanting. Wanting to feel how the other girls felt when a boy asked her to go to the movies. Wanting to find satisfaction in the hugs of others but all I could feel was fear and the overwhelming emotion of self-loathing. For I am the one who cannot sit in the movies with a boy wrapped around me because if I did, my heart would race and my temples would sweat while my unwanted tears streamed down my face.

    One day it all seemed to fade. And by saying ‘one day’ I’m not saying it lightly. For it was a random thought that passed through my mind and stuck. Maybe it isn’t the memories that tarnished my innocence but that I let them do just that. I was the one who made the PTSD stay for far too long. It moved in and I didn’t have the guts to put it on the streets. It became a part of me and ate away all other thoughts when they passed through. My life fell to its knees and gave itself to the disease. As the morning frost hit my toes while I went to get the mail I stopped and looked around. Fear limits you. And if I’m afraid of all that comes near, fear won. I use to treat myself as a victim, but that is far from reality.

    I am a survivor. I am living proof that the life you have lived becomes a part of you and that your bow can get messed up at recess but you fix it and go along playing. I cannot let myself loose to the people who started this all. Although they started it, I am the one who can finish it. I am not a victim. I am a girl. I am a teenager. I am a feminist. I am Buddhist. I am good at math. I excel and enjoy school. I consider the stage my home. And I am not a victim. I am a survivor.

  2. #2
    Administrator Susie_Moderator's Avatar
    Join Date
    Apr 2012
    This is really, really beautiful. So moving. I really admire you for the way you've written it out.

    You seem as though you've grabbed hold of your future, and that you're doing well. But if you ever want to talk things over, or if the old urges start up, remember that you can always contact the helpline at Your Life Your Voice, 1-800-448-3000. They're there 24/7 to talk about anything you'd like to talk about.

    Stay strong, my friend. You're awesome.
    Note: The ReachOut Forums will be suspended after December 31, 2015. All existing threads and posts will still be available to read and review, but no new posts will appear. We hope to gain new funding, and be back soon, but in the meantime, here are some places where you can keep talking and get support:

    -- Your Life Your Voice
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  3. #3
    ReachOut Regular Never2Late's Avatar
    Join Date
    Nov 2015
    This is extremely powerful. You are so brave for continuing to fight for yourself when you were scared. You are an inspiration . Thank you so much for sharing your story; this is something that needs to seen by all those other girls who need a little inspiration to fight for themselves, to fight for their life back. You are strong! You are not only surviving, you are thriving. In fact, you are LIVING your life. And that is the most amazing thing you can do.

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