Rape Survivor Diary

Memories and Everyday Life

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Ten Women I Have Been Warned Against Becoming:

1. The Girl Who Takes Up Too Much Space, always, her shoulders too wide in stairwells, her hips too big in doorways, her voice too loud in classes. This woman does not understand the art of crumbling, of curling herself tight like the spiral of a fern, soft, delicate, unwilling to reach out the ivy of her fingers to grasp onto what should rightfully be hers. This is a beast, an elephant, a moving mountain and she is capable of flattening you, she is capable of ruining you, she is capable of making you feel as small and insignificant in her life as she is supposed to be. You are this woman’s footnote to history, you are her side note in song lyrics, you are constantly interrupted by her with a witty joke you wish you thought of. I asked what the problem was with being a steamroller instead of a sunflower and I was laughed down.

2. The Beautiful One, the long hair or the slim waist or the pretty eyes or the lips like bowstrings. This woman looks good in everything because she’s confident in whatever you put her in. She’ll cut her hair short on you no matter how you like it, she’ll wear high heels and step on your opinions, she’ll look hot as hell no matter what size she is. See, the reason you can’t trust her is because women like this don’t need your permission, they’ll do as they please and get away with it. They’ll say no to you, over and over. Teach your daughters that beautiful means dangerous, teach them to distrust women who love themselves. Equate beautiful with vapid, equate pretty with stupid, take their power from them. Say they’re vain for their makeup, refuse to see them without it. These women are snakes, they are serpents. I said maybe the problem lies with you being unable to control yourself and was told to get off my pedestal.

3. A Bitch. Women are supposed to be ladies in the street but will tear skin under sheets. I’m told: Never raise your voice. Speak gently. Submit. Hold your opinion against your lips and when you admit to it, make sure it comes out as a butterfly wing suggestion. Don’t disagree. Don’t undermine someone else’s authority, regardless of whether or not they deserve your respect. Someone touches you, just move away from them. Don’t hit. Don’t talk back. Be like the ruins of Rome, only beautiful if you can’t hear your quiet death.

4. The Needy One. I have heard how others spit when they talk about how she gave you everything and you shoved it back down her throat until she choked on it, until she came back crawling and asked you what she did, until her palms and knees were scraped for want of just a little affection - never be this woman, I’m told, because she’s a joke and the joke is that she dared to have more emotion than you did. The truth is, I’m told, the one who cares less in a partnership is the one who wins. I didn’t know this was a competition.

5. The Cock Tease, certified stripper, how dare that girl look like that and not want me to sleep with her. Lust is always personified as a lady in red with a dress slit up her thigh. Lust is sinful because it’s power, it’s not asking for attention - it’s demanding it. I’m told she is the worst kind of woman, that looking good is supposed to be some kind of shame on her kin. I’m told not to leave the house in such a short skirt, not with a shirt so low, not with a lace back, not with high heels, not dressed like that. My lipstick can’t be too red, my hair can’t be too mussed, I can’t just “turn someone on like that and then leave them wanting.” I mentioned that instant gratification actually ruins our psyche and was told that being led on was “exhausting.” I said that there was a difference between purposefully tricking someone into liking you and just being attractive or friendly. I was told there’s also a difference between coffee and tea but both result in caffeine. I said, “I’ve been turned on in class by the girls I talk to but I didn’t expect anything from them,” and they said, “It’s different, you’re not a man,” but couldn’t explain where that difference was.

6. A Slut, obviously ruined by another person’s touch. It doesn’t matter how many people she’s actually been with, it’s all about the rumors she carries with her. Easy. Harlot. You’ll still try to get with her, you’ll still take her into your bed and kiss her and say things you don’t mean - but you’ll defame her name when you talk to your buddies. My father used to say “A slut is fine for the night, but the virgin is who you take home and marry.” Maybe he didn’t know he was teaching his daughter to hate her sexuality. Maybe he didn’t know that every time she’d be kissed, her whole system would shake until she felt ready to combust, shame and self-hatred shivering against her spine. Maybe he didn’t know she’d disconnect emotions and sex because he always told her, “Boys are different, they won’t care about you.” Nobody said to her that it was okay to experiment. See, the funny thing is, I’m a dancer so I know exactly where my center of gravity is. I know how hard I’ll fall in each direction. Yet out of fear of getting hurt, I won’t let a single person inside of my bed.

7. The Soulmate. Never love romance more than you love being cynical. Never show weakness, never like pink, never think maybe you might find someone nice and settle down with them. Someone will find you, I was told, And if you’re lucky, he’ll put up with you when you start getting old. Never be the woman who believes in happily ever after, never be dumb enough to think maybe someone could love you after all of your mistakes. It has nothing to do with whether or not a family is important to you and you’re in a good place where a relationship would make your life better - you’re not a princess. You don’t get married, you settle.

8. The Girl With Strength, who can outrun everyone and who is stronger than her boyfriend. “See the thing about boys,” says my daddy, “Is that you have to let them win.” I sat at home and read stories about Artemis and wanted to become the huntress, too. I wanted to howl at the moon, I wanted to slay the beasts that bested me, I wanted to rule my kingdom with bloody fists. But girls are never athletes, never supposed to be “built,” regardless of the fact civilizations were constructed on our spines and we made homes in war by the steel of our ribs. Never be strong. We are supposed to wilt.

9. The Lady CEO: because if you choose work over family, are you really a girl? How dare you fight your way to the top through every pair of eyes that bore through your blouse, through every meeting where you were hushed by the sound of someone else talking, through every time someone called you “sweetie,” how dare you yearn for something. Is your husband the stay-at-home one? I can’t imagine how that is going. He’s not a real man, after all. I don’t give it long before the divorce. How dare you decide you’re happy being single. Don’t you know you’re supposed to bear children. Where is your honor? Where is your wisdom? Who cares if you are the leader, the best suited for your position, the quickest-thinking, the one who makes the hardest clients come back again. Don’t you see? Across history, women have been terrible at success. They always lose their man in the end. (When I said, “I would rather be a famous author than a mediocre mother,” I was told, “No, don’t worry, you’ll be a fine mommy.”)

10. THE GIRL I AM: FIRECRACKER AND DON’T YOU FUCKING FORGET IT I’LL RIP YOU TO SHREDS AND I WON’T FUCKING REGRET IT I’M NOT YOUR PRETTY GIRL I’M NOT YOUR ANYTHING I’M PERFECT, MOTHERFUCKER, AND I’M NOT GOING TO GIVE UP WHAT I’M DOING. I DON’T WANT TO BE “LADYLIKE” THAT LITERALLY MEANS NOTHING I’M NOT GOING TO STOP STANDING UP AND DEMANDING WHAT’S COMING TO ME. I’M GONNA BE SOMEBODY. I’M GONNA MAKE THEM REMEMBER ME. I REFUSE TO BE OVERSHADOWED IN HISTORY. I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WERE TRYING TO CREATE BUT YOU MADE ME A DRAGON YOU PUT ME IN THE FIRE AND WHEN I STOPPED BURNING I LEARNED HOW TO GLOW DON’T THINK YOU CAN STOP ME YOU CAN’T TAME A TORNADO.

In respectful response to a poem tilted, “Ten men women have warned me against becoming." /// r.i.d (via wintry-mix)

(via silence-andothersounds)

Filed under sexism misogyny microaggression poetry poem feminism

5 notes

Fuck.

I had a rough patch for the last three weeks where I couldn’t leave my flat because the sheer thought of stepping outside makes me hyperventilate. I only ventured out twice with my boyfriend for groceries. I felt much better today so I called a friend so we could eat and talk together. Everything went great, it was an amazing day. When we parted way, I was happy.

Then a guy tried to coax me into getting into his car while I was waiting for the bus, despite the fact I had declined politely twice.

Then a dudebro catcalled me at the train station. I was so angry that when I looked at him, he fucking stepped back. That’s right, asshole, lower your eyes.

Then a creeper stared at my thighs the whole time I was in the train. Just. Staring.

And then while I was walking home, at fucking midnight, a guy started following me. When I told him to go the fuck away, he told me I was just being oversensitive because he just wanted to get to know me. OH YES, ALLOW ME TO APPOLOGIZE FOR HURTING YOUR STALKER FEELS.

I’m shaking and feeling sick. Guess I’m back to never stepping out again for a whole month? HAHAHAHAHA.

Fuck this shit.

Filed under street harassment misogyny sexism sexual assault cat calling fml trigger warning triggered

4 notes

littlejester:

i-am-a-rape-survivor:

I’m so tired.

Just had a panic attack. Just after stating I was okay. Oh, the irony. I could make a joke out of it if I weren’t so damn exhausted.

And there’s this thought in my mind all day and night: “I could kill myself”.

It’s a simple statement, I don’t want to kill myself. It’s just like… when you’re grocery shopping and you consider wherever you should get some more onions or if you have enough at home. It’s not a craving or a desperate need it’s just… devoid of feeling. I could do it and it’d be over.

Like clicking on a light switch. No big feelings attached to a lightbulb, right? You just switch it and it’s done. Light off.

Somehow this scares me more than when I was self harming in a panic. Now it’s just. I’m tired. I want to rest. I want some quiet time.

I won’t kill myself because I know I have people who care and I don’t want them to be sad because of me. But how long until I stop having any strong feelings about it too? How long until I stop caring about the fact that they care?

I wish I could switch myself on and off at will.

I understand what you mean, just.. please don’t ever think that your passing wouldn’t affect people. And I know you didn’t say anything about that, but I feel like we don’t always understand just how greatly we affect the lives of others. 

I wish I had some brilliant wisdom to share, to help you feel better but unfortunately I have nothing to help you further on your journey. I just want you to know that you matter - you’re important! There is no other person like you out there.

That’s very sweet of you, thank you. And I don’t want to do it, I swear it’s just… Empty kinda? Don’t have enough vocabulary to convey that, but anyway. You’re right and in a perfectly cartesian mindset, I know you are. But I’m not a very rational person sometimes and while I am NOW, I fear the future.

Anyway, I called my parents and made some plans for the future. I’m not great but I’m better now. I’m gonna paint some more and wait. As the saying goes, this too shall pass.

Filed under answers asks trigger warning tw:cutting tw:suicide tw:depression

4 notes

I’m so tired.

Just had a panic attack. Just after stating I was okay. Oh, the irony. I could make a joke out of it if I weren’t so damn exhausted.

And there’s this thought in my mind all day and night: “I could kill myself”.

It’s a simple statement, I don’t want to kill myself. It’s just like… when you’re grocery shopping and you consider wherever you should get some more onions or if you have enough at home. It’s not a craving or a desperate need it’s just… devoid of feeling. I could do it and it’d be over.

Like clicking on a light switch. No big feelings attached to a lightbulb, right? You just switch it and it’s done. Light off.

Somehow this scares me more than when I was self harming in a panic. Now it’s just. I’m tired. I want to rest. I want some quiet time.

I won’t kill myself because I know I have people who care and I don’t want them to be sad because of me. But how long until I stop having any strong feelings about it too? How long until I stop caring about the fact that they care?

I wish I could switch myself on and off at will.

Filed under depression Suicide rape survivor rape victim panic attack trigger warning self harm tw:suicide Tw:self harm tw:depression

4 notes

Still alive

I’m okay. Exhausted and perpetually angry, but I’m okay.

I need to find a therapist again but I just can’t afford it anymore. I’ve been looking up therapists that accept poor clients, but most of them seem to belong to one religion or another. Maybe they’re good, but considering my past experiences with religious people, I just don’t feel comfortable opening up to them. Especially with my country’s current stance on queer people.

So yeah.

I’m painting again.

Filed under rape survivor I'm Alive i'll be alright therapy mental illness

13 notes

I’m still alive, trying to keep my life in control. Sorry for not being here for you guys, I think about you everyday.

Sometimes it feels like I’m about to burst at the seams, but I’m okay.

Haven’t seen my therapist for months now and I think I’m being avoidant again. Repressing the fuck out of what happened and trying to live like I’m “normal”.

I know it’s not healthy but I was tired of being vulnerable and dependant.

I need to accept that I need help but I’m not ready yet.

Filed under rape survivor i'm sorry I'm okay i'll be alright rape victim

17 notes

Not only that but we went to a shop and I saw a top I liked. My first thought was “but I’m too fat for that cut!” to which a second thought answered “who cares? I’m hot!”

I just

After years of finding myself gross and ugly, years of wishing I would one day wake up as a different person…

I woke up, as myself, and I liked what I saw in the mirror

And like, not just for one minute and the next day it was over. Everytime I’m looking at myself, I think “oh hey, looking badass here, cute smile, love your hair!”. It’s been four days now. I used to think I was always the “ugly friend” in any group of friends I was walking around with, but I realised I’m actually pretty cute. And that’s probably what Nick and all my loved ones see when they look at me.

I can’t explain how hysterical that makes me.

I didn’t change anything. I haven’t done anything. Nothing special happened. I just feel beautiful, worthy and happy and I don’t understand what the shit is going on and it’s scary but I love it. It’s like I’ve been on an adrenaline rush for four days.

Filed under diary happy recovery happiness healing

2 notes

phoral said:
<3 you’ll get through it ok. is there any other way you can contact your therapist? email or something? if not, try and make it a challenge for yourself to ring her, and then come up with a ‘reward’ to treat yourself with after xx
You were right! No, I only have my therapist number but she did call me eventually but I couldn’t answer her because I was in Belgium! Gonna call her first thing tomorrow!
It’ll be alright. I had a really rough night too and basically curled into a ball and cried my guts up. You can do this, and if you ever need someone to talk to or vent or whatever, I’m here❤❤❤. Stay strong
I hope you’re feeling better now and you’re just too fucking sweet omg. I’m doing well!
glad to hear you’re feeling better, but sorry the adjustment process is so strange! let me know if you need anything

Yeah, this is so weird. It’s like I hit a switch by accident and now I’m happy and hyper and I just

I’m so happy you’re feeling better! Now take some time to adjust to this new lifestyle. No one gets used to being depressed overnight, so why would the reverse be true? Apply plenty of self-care. *pompoms* Go you!

Yes I will! And my bro made fun of me for taking selfies and I didn’t gave a fuck!

You’re in Belgium? Me too! Jedi-hugs from closer-by! :D

Yes! For my dad’s birthday! We went to the museum and wandered around a lot. And my dad almost killed us ten times because he’s a terrible driver! But I made it alive! So it’s okay! And yay jedi-hugs! \o/

Filed under diary happiness depression rape survivor recovery therapy what