SAA: Sexually Abused Anonymous: A Memoir

Via · 2008-04-08T06:13:19Z

The following is a true to my life story. It’s an odd feeling living with a secret you know you should tell, but one you also know will change your life if you do. I spent the last five years of my life wanting to be an alcoholic, a drug addict, a tobacco user—just to have an excuse to sit in a meeting of people I didn’t know and tell them my darkest secret. I wanted to tell them all the details of that day; how it started, how it ended, how uncliche it was. But instead I spent my energy on avoiding relationships when they started getting serious, eluding to the past but never telling anything definite, pretending to be fine for no one’s sake but mine. This kind of secret doesn’t go away with a confession, I knew this. And telling people would change their perception of me forever—I refuse to wear that stamp on my forehead the rest of my life. But, I’m here tonight to tell you: I am a victim of sexual molestation. They cram sex education down your throat at the beginning of middle school. They tell you the basics about not going anywhere with strangers and avoiding dark alleys and to leave if you feel uncomfortable and all the things that seem like common sense, but they don’t tell you about the dangers that lurk inside the building they teach you from. You don’t expect it, but then again…can anything really be ‘expected?’ They don’t tell you that it could be your best friend or your boyfriend or both at the same time when you are in high school: “All dangers lurk outside in the real world” is what they seem to claim. When I was fifteen years old I thought I was just the sweetest thing to walk this earth. I was on the junior varsity and varsity volleyball team as a sophomore, I had straight A’s, I was dating a gorgeous senior and my life was just perfect—until I met Ray. Ray was my boyfriend’s best friend. He was a senior as well, but not the typical ‘hottie’ we all seemed to go after. He spent a lot of time playing video games and was rather overweight, but he always seemed like a nice guy to us. We all three had a class together with only two other people who were always roaming and the teacher was rarely in the room. Why did she need to be? Our school was safe. We all sat at the same table—my boyfriend, Ray, and me. I remember this day like it happened yesterday, it replayed in my head for months. I had a skirt on that day, a jean skirt with frayed lining (it was all the rage then). I had a white tank top on with wide shoulder straps (we weren’t allow to wear thin ones) and a pair of Adidas sandals. Ray was sitting between my boyfriend and I, and he was messing around with me a bit. We were both on a computer, both on AOL instant messenger. He started tickling my leg and I’d giggle each time—I was a typical fifteen year old. But, each time he’d put his hand higher and higher up my leg. I don’t know why I didn’t stop, but I just kept giggling until it became a problem. Suddenly, Ray’s hand made a giant jump up my skirt instead of tickling my leg. I remember saying specifically “get off of me!” in the classroom; it was so quiet. But he didn’t, it only got worse and with my boyfriend right there he molested me in my school in a classroom in broad daylight. My boyfriend did nothing, everything I had believed him to be ended right then and there. It didn’t last too long, the teacher came back in—she didn’t even question the situation and I've always kind of held that against her. Maybe if she had, this secret wouldn’t have stayed with me so long. I’ve heard all the commercials and all the slogans that say “it’s never your fault,” and until that point in time I never understood why victims felt like it was. But for the life of me I cannot help but feel somewhat responsible for egging him on—for asking for it. That was the last bell of the day, and when school ended I met up with an older friend of mine on the way out the door. I told her what happened. She laughed. For three years she was the only person who knew and she never, ever brought it up with me or with anyone else that I know of. She was on the volleyball team with me, and even that day as we headed to practice she acted like when I spoke it was in a foreign language that she didn’t understand, like I never said a word to her. I don’t know what I would have done in her situation, and the fact that I told her was merely a timing circumstance—but I couldn’t bear to tell someone else and have someone else act the way she did. Later that night the messages started pouring in from Ray. He begged me and begged me not to tell anyone, “I’m not usually like that” he claimed. Over and over again he apologized, making me say I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. And I followed his orders because by the events of the day he had suddenly taken over my life and would continue to do so even when he was no longer there. Ray and I did not speak again after that night, and my boyfriend and I broke up shortly after my conversation with Ray, and I buried my secrets so far within me that it ate at every little cell in my body every day. By the end of the year Ray was gone, but he did not stop haunting me. In my senior year I finally told one of my friends a short version of what had happened—I just blurted it out to her one day in our math class. I don’t know if she took me seriously, but this time I didn’t care, I just wanted it out of me. By the end of the year I had told two more friends and a teacher about it in secret, but none of them ever wanted to talk about it. Now I had gotten it out, I stamped myself molested, but wasn’t allowed the chance to tell my side of the story. I found my refuge in internet sites that had confessionals or had resources for victims of sexual abuse. I bought books that I thought would help me understand why I was feeling the way I was. Knowledge was power, and I needed power. I found a special release within my writing, often planning storylines around rape and abuse but always stopping before I had to write out the scene of betrayal. Just knowing that maybe there were other people like my characters in the world with the same secret made it almost seem bearable. When I went to college no one knew my secret. No one questioned my life, no one wanted to know more, no one would have cared had I told them. It was and is normally easy to suppress these days, but the more and more I confront it the easier it becomes to overcome. My family still knows nothing of this event, other than one of my sisters who had a similar experience in high school—even she doesn’t talk about it, and the moment I told her we shared nothing but a silent understanding of the way our lives intertwined in a new and undeserving way. Those four people I mentioned before were the only ones to know until this very moment sitting here, writing my deepest secret out to all of you. I saw Ray some years later at my work. He came up to me and talked for a minute. I guess he couldn’t see that all I wanted to do was scream for security to get this molester out of the store (the same store where I had been cornered in a private office by another man). I have heard in recent years that he has become an active member in his church, even plays in the band. I have hated him for this; I never really understood why he thought God would want him there after what he did. I suppose maybe he felt guilty and that was a place to turn, or maybe he needed people to support him—I wonder if they know his deepest secret. It doesn’t show much anymore, only in the fact that I am nearly unable to be close to any man without the scene from that day flashing right before my eyes. After that day every man in my life became a predator, it didn’t matter who he was or what he was or how helpful or kind he had been to me. I have no idea why I decided to write this, but when I did I needed to do it then and there. It’s two o’clock in the morning and I am here at my keyboard, trying to release what I have been unable to let go of all these years. I do feel a bit odd telling my secret, like a piece of my soul is being ripped out of me and violently thrown over these sheets of paper—open and vulnerable for the world to view. My heart is beating very quickly; I hope it can withstand sending a piece of itself off into the world. But, as I sat here I promised to declare to myself and the rest of the world one thing: Ray *insert last name here, he should still be protected* will never, ever rule my life again. 1 in 6 women will experience some form of sexual abuse in their lifetime. Surprised?

hm92

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Wed Nov 26, 2008 4:46 pm

hm92 says... · Wed Nov 26, 2008 4:46 pm

I can't beleive that happened like!

And I am so so sorry. I pray that it will get better for you.

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pshhxhoney

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Wed Nov 26, 2008 5:18 pm

pshhxhoney says... · Wed Nov 26, 2008 5:18 pm

I'm sorry that happened to you. It was very brave of you to post it up here! It's always good to vent. I was molested too.

I was at my grandma's house and they were having a party. I was sick though, so I stayed in my favorite couscin's bedroom. My other cousin watched me and was trying to get me to pay attention to him. I turned myself the other way.

Then, suddenly he goes on top of me and starts molesting me. I told my mom after, but I never got over it and I don't think I ever will.

You are very brave for posting that! I haven't told anyone really, but some people know so I don't have things inside me I have to let out.

-Krisy

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Clup91

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Thu Nov 27, 2008 11:48 pm

Clup91 says... · Thu Nov 27, 2008 11:48 pm

I feel for you, I really do.
I can't really say anymore about this, except that I'm really glad that you have released your secret.

Keep it Old Skool.

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dark angel52

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Fri Nov 28, 2008 1:33 am

dark angel52 says... · Fri Nov 28, 2008 1:33 am

That is terrible that it happened to you. It has to take a lot of guts to post it up here and say it to people. I do hope things get better, no one should ever have to deal with that. It isn't right, and it seems as though the statistic would be higher than 1 in 6. But maybe that is just me, defending girls, and some guys.

Just because I am the way I am, does that mean I should be discriminated against?

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unsterblichkeit36

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Sat Dec 06, 2008 3:40 am

unsterblichkeit36 says... · Sat Dec 06, 2008 3:40 am

Dream
That is the key to it.
This is something that only you can make go away.
No one can be there to help you get rid of it.
I've tried.
I had a dream several weeks ago.
I was with my friends at Six Flags: Great Adventure.
My friends chickened out and wouldn't go on the rides with me. Thus, I had to go on by myself.
Suddenly, I came into a bank waiting room. There, was my molester. he started chasing me. I ran into my bedroom and locked the door.
You'll need symbolism to help you through it.
My molester lives around the corner. It is surely scary and I can feel some of the emotions you are receiving.
If you need some advice or anything, Pm me.

12 year old
SaraRose

-SaraRose

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lukas8u

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Sun Dec 07, 2008 1:10 am

lukas8u says... · Sun Dec 07, 2008 1:10 am

Uh..
I could not even imagine writing that, or going through that :cry:

Abuse confessionals always make guys feel like it is their fault..
Like it's something against guys.

Political blog, (with a liberal lean)
Here

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LilyJamey

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Mon Dec 29, 2008 10:17 am

LilyJamey says... · Mon Dec 29, 2008 10:17 am

Thanks for posting this, Via, or I never would realise how many people share the same kind of experience.
Once when I was 8, and once when I was 12. After each time, I felt branded. Dirty. Its brave of you to post this. If you didn't, nobody would dare to say anything.

Got YWS?

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AdamHomer

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Wed Dec 31, 2008 4:53 pm

AdamHomer says... · Wed Dec 31, 2008 4:53 pm

First let me say i'm terribly sorry for happen to you.

Good story, but a tad cliche.

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Antigone Cadmus

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Wed Dec 31, 2008 6:12 pm

Antigone Cadmus says... · Wed Dec 31, 2008 6:12 pm

AdamHomer wrote:First let me say i'm terribly sorry for happen to you.

Good story, but a tad cliche.

He did not just say that! It's non-fiction! It's not cliche! Adam, you didn't even capitalize "I'm" so... yeah, your comment doesn't look all that intelligent.

Via, you are so brave.

I can't imagine going through that. It must of been a hard memoir to write.

I'm sure that by posting this you helped out a lot of people.

You're amazing,
Sakura

Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
-Catullus, Carmen 85

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Explosive_Pen

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Wed Dec 31, 2008 6:28 pm

Explosive_Pen says... · Wed Dec 31, 2008 6:28 pm

Oh my God. I am so sorry that this happened to you; and yes, I know that sorry can't heal the scars, but it feels like the right thing to say. I'm bawling my eyes out now, and all I want to do is hide in a closet for the rest of my life and never set eyes on another man for as long as I live. I respect and admire the courage it must have taken to post this on here.

I can't critique this. It's too powerful.

"You can love someone so much...But you can never love people as much as you can miss them."

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Korisan

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Sun Jan 11, 2009 3:14 am

Korisan says... · Sun Jan 11, 2009 3:14 am

I applaud your courage for sharing your soul with the world.

I was in a horrible situation, involving a brother. I was about ten. It wasn't forced, I was just young and innocent and got pulled into a sick situation that lasted for many years. I never told anyone, even my first counselor who worked with me for 4 years in college. I finally told him the last day of school, when I felt like I was about to explode. from keeping the secret locked inside. My brother still thinks he did nothing wrong.

I agree with unicorn hunter. When I met the guy I ended up marrying, I told him about what had happened to me. He didn't run. He really helped me work through things more than anyone else ever did, including the counselors I talked to. Don't let what a few guys did to you keep you from what some day may be the man who will help you heal.

The memories still linger, and color how I see life, (which really stinks sometimes). But the pain has mostly subsided, and I can handle it now.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dremt of in your philosophies." - W.Shakespeare

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WaterVyper

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Fri Mar 20, 2009 1:51 pm

WaterVyper says... · Fri Mar 20, 2009 1:51 pm

Via, this was one of the most emotional pieces that I have ever read. It looked like it was difficult for you to put it up here. Beautifully written, in a simple and straightforward style, and it was packed full of raw emotion.

I must say that I've never experienced a case of sexual abuse, nor do I know anyone who has. But this made me feel like I was there, watching everything. It was just so clearly written that I had almost started to cry. And I never cry unless it is very tragic, such as Bambi, or Where the Red Fern Grows, or the like. Thanks for sharing this, Via. True courage is being afraid, but still standing up.

There once was a cat.
He wasn’t particularly fat.
Fuzzy was his favorite mat.
And really, that was that.

Oh, but did you really think so?
Keep reading, it’s just the start of the show!
And as for how far this tale will go…
Well, even the cat doesn’t know.

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Musicaloo7311

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Wed Mar 25, 2009 1:19 am

Musicaloo7311 says... · Wed Mar 25, 2009 1:19 am

Via, that is terrible. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Congratulations on being brave enough to write it out; I hope it brought you comfort or clarity in some way.

What Ray and your ex-boyfriend did was a wrong and terrible thing to do. It sickens me to think about how that happens every day to 1/6 of women. That's just... Ugh.

And as to the remark to this story being "cliche", all I can say is... Wow.

Stay strong, darling!

Click-ity click! Reviews here.

The Completely Evil Plan.

"You treat me badly; I love you madly."
Formerly known as music_lover_7311.

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LightOfTheDawn

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Sat Jun 06, 2009 6:04 pm

LightOfTheDawn says... · Sat Jun 06, 2009 6:04 pm

Oh my God... Honey, that took so much strength to write on your part AND it was beautifully written. I won't lie, your story moved me to tears while I was reading it... It brought up a painful memory of my own past, too. I was molested twice by two different strangers- the first time was when I was eight, by a waiter in a restaurant where my whole family were celebrating. I second was at a party when I was thirteen, when a total douche in the year above cornered me and felt me up in a way he never should have done.
The anxiety and the shame I felt on both occasions- that I partially felt I had brought this on myself- sometimes haunt me today. But thanks to your liberating confession, I now feel I'm not alone. You've proved that what doesn't defeat you only turns you into a stronger woman.
I thank you for that. Bless you, Via. Keep strong- your message has made another victim feel more at peace again =*) xoxo

* Catch a Falling Star
* Put It in Your Pocket
* Never Let It Fade Away...
~~ SAVEITFORARAINYDAY...~~

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Shishu95

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Sun Jun 14, 2009 8:40 pm

Shishu95 says... · Sun Jun 14, 2009 8:40 pm

I'm so sorry. As you've probably read in the posts above, this never deserved to happen to you.
Ray should go burn in hell for what he did to you. Sometimes people don't know their boundaries, but they still should never do that. Your friend on the volleyball team was wrong not to acknowledge what happened to you. If you ever need anybody to talk to, I'm here. One thing you should do though is, don't let this situation control your life. Don't live in the past. If you aren't that's really awesome. But if you are, then you need to move on. What happened to you should make you stronger, not to make you more afraid of men, and relationships to come. There are people in this world, who would never in their wildest dreams would want to do that to you. Move on. Don't let what happened to you define you. Hope I helped

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"Be the change you wish to see in the world" - Mahatma Gandhi

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