Writing this is one of the hardest, but therapeutic things that has been suggested by a therapist. The hardest part is trying to stop the pain in my chest and stomach as I write, or the feeling of wanting to vomit and scrub my skin in the shower until it almost comes off. People think that you get over being raped in time. That is a lie! It has been 40 years! You learn to mask your symptoms and control your panic, but you do not move on. You continue to struggle with interpersonal skills and communication when you have someone that you need to be vulnerable with, and most times you end up pushing them away or sabotaging the relationship because it is easier to hide in your anxiety and fear than it is to let someone love you. You never feel worthy. Oh believe, I know my worth in my mind, but deep down I still don’t believe I deserve it. I also still have nights where my anxiety is so bad I want to curl up in my closet under a blanket or muster all of my strength to run to my front door when I am out for a walk. I have allowed these feelings to ruin relationships with 2 men that I loved more than they will ever know. I stopped communicating as they got too close because I couldn’t be vulnerable and was afraid to allow them to see my pain. I either thought it was too much for them and they would never stay, or they would somehow use it against me. Conversely, I continue to pick men who just confirm my lack of self-worth.

How did it all start? Sadly, I learned at an early age that most men (boys) were looking for one thing. I went from being a 12-year-old who didn’t even know what a kiss was to being raped at 13 years old behind the curtains on a stage by someone I thought was a friend. Until that day, I had only had a boyfriend that I held hands and walked to school with, and only been kissed on the cheek. I had a group of friends that I hung out with. One of them offered to walk me home but said he wanted to show me something on the way home. It makes me how mad at how naive I was. I still remember the burning fear I felt as he held me down and put himself inside me. The burning pain of him penetrating and stretching and tearing I felt after he held me down on the stairs and putting a condom on. He kept trying to kiss me, but I wouldn’t let him. He kept trying to kiss me, but I wouldn’t let him. Besides having my virginity taken from me, he even went as far to spread rumors that we had sex in the auditorium. That betrayal changed me completely. I never trusted the same way again or even looked at myself the same way again. I began withdrawing from friends and just lost my joy. My self-esteem was shattered, and my reputation was ruined. I began smoking cigarettes and weed, as well as drinking whatever alcohol I could get my hands on. Tommy and I saw one another again years later, and he did not consider what he did was rape. He thought because I didn’t put up a fight, it was mutual. He even had the audacity to hit on me and ask me on a date. Really? I literally didn’t understand what was going on that day. I had never even been to first base or seen a sex scene in a movie. I have since spent my life feeling that I was never good enough to be truly loved or worthy of friendship.