Rape and Flashbacks

 49. RAPE AND FLASHBACKS 

Hello and welcome back to my blog, Raped 25 Years. At this time, I invite you to join me in a walk through my journey of healing from sexual violence. Don’t forget to stay to the end so you can enjoy my gem of positivity.

After sexual abuse and rape, flashbacks are a debilitating part of the aftermath from this abuse. The following forced abortion is just one of the many flashbacks that distress me daily. There is a particularly disturbing element. It mixes abuse events from the traumatic past with safe healthcare people from my present. The person referred to as “you” is Dr H.

The flashback lately is the same, ever since being on the bed in the treatment room. I am being dragged into the room by the man I refer to as Alex.  Then you are there, and the others are gone. You tell me to undress, because you’re going to give me a full massage on my back. Once naked, I get onto the bed, and you help me to get comfortable. But then I look down and Dr Q is there, wearing a gown and mask. You are standing beside me and you tell me it must be done and just breathe; it will all be over soon.

You are on my left side so you hold my left hand with your right. Dr Q tells me to put my legs apart so he can do his job. I start to protest, and try to get up. But you lean down and put your right forearm on my chest to hold me down. You tell me to just relax and it won’t hurt so much. But I am kicking out at Dr Q to stop him getting to me. So you catch my left leg with your left arm and pull it towards my chest, bent at the knee. I can’t breathe properly when you do this, so I have to stop fighting.

I start crying. I’m looking into your face pleading for you to not let Dr Q touch me. But you just tell me that everything is okay, to breathe and relax, and it will all be over soon. The I look down, and Dr Q has the dilator in his left hand. I can feel him putting his left hand on my upper thigh, after swapping the tool from left to right hand.

I can’t breathe properly as I feel the cold metal entering me. I start to scream, and say I want to keep the babies this time. The pain of the dilator has me forgetting to kick out any more. The tears are running freely down my cheeks, but you just smooth your left hand across my forehead, telling me to shush and I’m being so good and brave and it’s nearly done. I can feel the dull scraping of my uterus, then Dr Q stands back and says it’s all done, and I’ll be feeling back to normal in no time. But I can’t breathe properly, seeing that the front of his scrubs are covered in blood, the same blood I can feel oozing out of me. You just hold me as I continue to sob, until I’m just sniffling and hiccuping. I am so tired, and I know I lost the fight, so I finally just turn my head away from you and sleep. 

The occurrence in this flashback is real. However Dr Q and Dr H, were not present at the actual event. It is my mind reliving the tragedy of this trauma, but with people who are in my present. To be clear, when the events in this flashback occurred, I didn’t even know Dr H and Dr Q. They are not the real perpetrators. 

Flashbacks are soul-destroying in their quality of reality. Which makes it so much harder to break free of the toxic cycle and torment of the abuse and trauma that was the  original experience. That doesn’t mean that healing can’t happen. It takes a long time, and much appropriate support. I have that much needed circle of caring people around me. It may take a long time, but you will get the supportive people you need and deserve too. 

Those nightmarish flashbacks can be beaten. You see, with my new support team helping me, those flashbacks have started to change already. They are becoming less frequent and less realistic. That is what healing is all about. And since it is happening for me, it will happen for you too.

This time the gem of positivity is a melding of two affirmations I found: 

This is a memory, not my current reality. The worst is already over.

This is key to remember in the reoccurring flashbacks which haunts both you and I. It is easier said than done, I know. Yet as I heal, I am able to take hold of this affirmation and make it my true reality. And as you heal, you can too.

Thank you for taking this short walk with me. Don’t forget to leave a comment on what helps you through your flashbacks. And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby

Rape and a Positive Sexual Encounter

 48. RAPE AND A POSITIVE SEXUAL ENCOUNTER 

Hello and welcome back to Raped 25 Years. At this time, I invite you to take a short walk with me through my journey of healing from both sexual abuse and sexual assault. Don’t forget to stay to the end so you can enjoy my gem of positivity.

The following is actually the result of an exercise Dr H set me. He asked me to try and write how I would like a positive sexual encounter to unfold. This was, and is, my ideal:

I imagined that it is early evening. The sun is going down, leaving a long twilight. He is average height, with short straight dark brown hair, with a part curling to the right. He’s not fat, but he’s not thin and wiry either. He has a lovely smile and is clean shaven, with no hint of a five o’clock shadow. To me he is quite attractive, and I wonder what he’s doing with me. He is wearing blue jeans with a black belt and a white t-shirt; I’m in loose black shorts and a green striped cami top - no bra. We have been close friends for almost a year, and have both agreed that it’s time to move forward to the next stage in our relationship. I’m worried about not being able to sexually please him, and I can see he’s concerned about hurting me, which is making him hesitant.

We started by having a cup of coffee together at my place, so we could just talk and relax some of our nerves. I only have a single bed, but it’s what I’m most comfortable with. He is trying to do everything he can for me to feel comfortable and safe, which is why it’s my place. We have relaxed enough to be able to start kissing, slowly and hesitantly at first , but then with more passion. Our tongues are touching and I am totally relaxed and in the moment. His right hand starts to explore my left breast. At first I tense, but as I enjoy his caresses more, I start to get wet.

When he starts to push up my top, I push his hand away and stand up. He looks uncertain, as if he’s not sure if he’s done something wrong. But slowly and shyly I smile at him and take his hand, and lead him into the bedroom and onto the bed. He’s a little bit tense at the change of venue, but is encouraged when I start to stroke his face and kiss again. As the kisses become deeper and more intense, he starts to explore my body again, and this time I don’t push him away. It isn’t long before I let him take my top off, so he can kiss and suck his way down and around my breasts. He notices when I gasp and works on those spots the most, but in a loving teasing way to draw out my pleasure.

When he moves back to my mouth, I get the confidence to take his shirt off, and run my hands down his back. I can feel how pleased he is, and as he moves his mouth and tongue over the side of my neck, around my face with fairy-like touches, and to my breasts again. I can feel myself becoming very wet, and I want nothing more than to make love to this wonderfully gentle man. 

I worry briefly about seeming too forward, but then I caress my way from his back to the front of his jeans. The belt is obviously an old one, because the leather is quite soft and pliable, making it easy to undo. I don’t draw it out, but continue on to the front of the jeans. I can feel his erection becoming harder and I slowly lower his jeans, being careful not to hurt him. I’m a little surprised that he’s not wearing undies, but it makes it easier for me in not having to remove them. 

He’s not so fortunate. After he gets up to completely remove his pants, I wonder whether I should remove my pants for him. I decide against it, wanting to enjoy the erotic pleasure of letting him do it for me. He doesn’t disappoint. He comes back to the bed and to me. I’m lying on my back, and enjoy seeing his aroused naked body. He lies down on his left side, with his head lower than mine. As aroused and contented as I am, I can feel myself tensing as the big moment draws closer. He feels it too, and asks me if I’m okay. I say yes, but start to move a little uneasily. Sensing my fear, he starts to concentrate his kisses to my mouth, until it is quite obvious to both of us that I’m ready to go forward.

His right hand starts to explore my body again, and this time it moves down to the top of my shorts. I’m glad they only have an elastic waistband, because I love the soft tickling feeling that his fingers leave upon the skin of my stomach. He lays his hand on my waistband for a brief moment, before moving slowly but steadily under my shorts and between my legs. I give a nervous giggle at the look of surprise on his face, when he discovers just how wet I am. “I think you’re ready”, he says softly, and I can’t help but agree. 

He gets up, so that he is kneeling at my hip, to give him better range of movement. Slowly and sensuously, he starts to kiss and lick his way from my face down my neck, spending enough time to make sure I’m relaxed at each stage. I sigh and give shivers of intense pleasure as he moves his mouth down the middle of my belly, where he stops teasingly at my belly button. Slowly he licks inside my navel, being careful to keep eye contact as he does. I think it one of the most erotic of moves, and I tell him so. He smiles, confident now that I’m ready for him to remove my shorts and undies. As he does so, he makes a little joke about how wet the crotch of my undies are. I give another nervous giggle, unsure again if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He leaves me in no doubt that it’s a very good thing. 

Not wanting to scare me, and giving me space to say stop if I want to, he lies back down beside me and we go back to kissing each other, almost as if we’re trying to eat each other. But the moment is still sensual and very arousing, not that either of us needs any help in that department. His left hand strokes my forehead and the front of my hair and his right hand creeps it’s tickling way back down my stomach and between my legs again. I don’t want to crush his had, so I move my legs a little apart to allow him to freely explore my genitals. His hand is soft, without any calluses or rough bits. Ever so gently and softly, his thumb starts to stroke my clitoris, and I shiver time and again in delight. I want to reciprocate the pleasure he is giving me, by slowly using my left hand to explore his almost foreign body. I never had the chance to do this before on any man, so my movements are a bit clumsy at first. But he moves and positions himself so that I can tell I’m doing the right things without him having to tell me so.

It is as I am using my hand stimulate his beautifully hard and erect penis, that my first orgasm comes. I hurt him slightly as I cum, by clutching his penis a little too tightly, but he’s more interested in my pleasure and relaxation than his own, which I think is very sweet and generous. I tell him I’m sorry for hurting him, and he gives a little chuckle. “Just so long as you’re enjoying things, I don’t mind. But maybe next time, you might want to let my cock go first.” We both laugh about that, and the tension I feel just falls away. I tell him that I’m ready, if he’d like to enter me. Hell, my vagina’s been aching for him for at least ten minutes. But I didn’t want to say so and spoil the moment. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lies on top of me. For a moment I feel trapped and panic, but then, as the good touches and caressing continues, I realise with more surety and confidence that I’m safe and this man won’t hurt me.

My whole body is tingling with desire. It’s like little electric shocks everywhere our skin touches, and I can feel my desire becoming white hot. I reposition my legs to make things easier and more comfortable for him, since he’s doing all the hard work. Well, I think so, anyway. As we start kissing again, deeply and passionately as before, he manoeuvres himself so that he is between my legs. I can feel his erection poking into the top of my left thigh. I feel myself tensing at the sensation. He feels me tense too. Slowly he gives my body sensual caresses; no one place in particular, just a general easing of the moment. I become more relaxed again and, as a sign that I am willing and wanting to continue, I run my hands slowly up and down his back. While doing this, every so often I give his butt cheeks a gentle squeeze as encouragement.

We have agreed at the outset to keep eye contact on the initial entry of his penis into my vagina, so that we are better able to gauge whether or not things are going well. I’m not confident in being able to express myself clearly verbally in the moment. He is very understanding, as he has been through the whole development of our relationship. We both know that it’s time, and my body couldn’t possibly be more ready. The bottom sheet is already wet in places from my lubricating body fluids. The ache to have him inside me, is starting to become a tangible physical pain of longing. Delicately, he places the head of his penis in my vagina. He leaves it there for a moment, to ensure my comfort. He asks me if I want to continue, and I whisper, “yes please”.

Although I’m afraid of the traumatic pain that has happened in past sexual abuse I find he has slipped inside me with very little trouble. We stay like that, kissing and touching, before we agree that things are going well and we can continue. Slowly and gently at first, his penis moves in and out. When he’s certain that I’m comfortable and very in the moment, he starts to move faster. It’s not long before I orgasm again. My genitals are positively slick with mucus secretions. I take it to be a good sign, and so does he. As the friction of his penis moving in my vagina builds to another crescendo, I tell him that he feels great inside me. I tell him I don’t want him to stop. He tells me, that he’s going to orgasm soon too. I tell him, almost pleadingly, “Just a bit more. Just there. Oh fuck me. Fuck me harder, I’m cumming again!” “So am I,” he pants. Both our bodies are bathed in sweat, so I’m pretty sure we’re getting mutual pleasure and excitement out of the encounter.

Suddenly, we’re both yelling over each other, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” Then I feel it. The wonderful warm feeling of him ejaculating inside me. My final orgasm is an absolute explosion. My thighs pulse and shake, and I can feel the strong powerful waves of contractions in my vagina and lower gut. At the same time, I start to urinate, seeming to be able to not control my lower half. He collapses from his efforts, but is still considerate enough to fall partly sideways, so as not to trap me with his body. We talk for a little longer, still kissing and loving the moment of shared passion. Then we each slowly fall asleep, cuddling in each other’s arms.

What about you? What do you consider to be your ideal sexual encounter? Please feel empowered to leave a comment on the sort of situation you’d like as a positive sexual experience.

This time my gem of positivity is a quote attributed to Mae West:

“Sex is emotion in motion”.

And that truly is what true consensual sex is. It’s more than just the act. Sex is an engagement of emotions as well. Slowly but surely, I am learning that this truly is what positive sexual experiences are. The further I go in my healing, the more I believe this to be the case. And you will too.

Thank you for joining me on this walk in my journey to heal. And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby

Rape and Valentine’s Day

 47. RAPE AND VALENTINE’S DAY

Hello and welcome back to Raped 25 Years. At this time, I invite you to join me on a short walk through my healing journey, from sexual abuse and sexual assault. Don’t forget to stay to the end, in order to enjoy my gem of positivity.

For many, Valentine’s Day is a special day for expressing your feelings of love, affection, and gratitude, to those people you care most about. But for myself, and others, Valentine’s Day can be heartbreaking. One memory of a particular Valentine’s Day is dark, and seems to have traumatically overshadowed all positive experiences of that date.

When living under the influence of the man I refer to as Alex, he brutally and mercilessly used me as an enslaved sex worker. This was all simply to fund his illicit drug use and alcohol addictions. However it also meant that if and when I fell pregnant, Alex couldn’t be sure that the baby was his.

So, tragically, when I fell pregnant yet again, Alex was totally furious with me. I always dreaded the positive pregnancy test because I knew what it meant. Alex would  drag into his doctor’s clinic. They bound and gagged to stop me screaming in agony. My pregnancy was traumatically terminated against my will, without anesthetic.

On one such occasion the forced abortion was on Valentine’s Day. I was devastated. More so the doctor said I was pregnant with twins.

I understand that not everyone will agree with me on the following sentiment. However to me, those foetuses were real, alive, living people in their own right. From the moment of conception, they were real. Given that is how I feel and what I believe in my own thinking, I named them Dallas and Dakota.

I spent the rest of that Valentine’s Day, crying inconsolably yet silently. When Alex saw my tears, he said that it was poetic justice that the babies were removed from my body on Valentine’s Day. If I hadn’t been so stupid as to get pregnant, he had raved, then he wouldn’t have been forced to be so harsh. But if I said I was sorry, he would  “forgive my stupidity”. Then he forced me straight back into prostitution.

I am no longer living in that particularly cruel and abusive situation. Yet, that doesn’t mean I have forgotten. As would be expected, I am still recovering from re-living those traumatic events. Particularly on Valentine’s Day, I can’t help but remember those traumatising days. But the best thing I can do for those babies, remembered as my children, is heal.

What about you? Do you have memories of a traumatic Valentine’s Day? You too might feel that your trauma is far too hideous for you to ever forget. But you don’t have to forget that, despite the pain, you tried to care for another person. Rejection is not failure. You can turn your trauma into something positive. You can heal.

This week’s gem of positivity is a affirmation:

I am a warrior in my own life.

A warrior is strong, resilient and a fighter. And I am a warrior who is strong, resilient and a fighter.Don’t you want to be your own warrior too? You can be, by making a simple choice. You can heal.

Thank you for taking this short walk with me in my journey of healing. Don’t forget to leave a comment on what Valentine’s Day means to you. And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby 

Rape and First Consensual Orgasm: Part Two

 46. RAPE AND FIRST CONSENSUAL ORGASM: PART TWO 

Hello and welcome back to Raped 25 Years. At this time I invite you to join me in a short walk through my journey of healing from sexual trauma. Don’t forget to stay to the end to enjoy my gem of positivity.

Part one of consensual orgasm was to show you there is hope for sexual pleasure to occur after the violence of rape. This part two highlights some of the issues that can arise in the process:

After my foreplay orgasm, I felt a bit rejected because I wanted to try and give him as much pleasure as he had given me. But this wonderful man wouldn’t let me. He kept saying I wasn’t ready for penetration, but I felt like I’d been used. Yes, I’d been given pleasure, and I still felt happy. However, it felt wrong for me to have such pleasure and not be allowed to respond in kind. 

The reason I felt used stems from an underlying use and abuse. It now felt like my lover had gotten his way, simply by getting his hands “on the goods” as it were. It felt like he had just taken what he wanted, then dismissed me like a used condom. I understand that healing takes time, yet this limitation was just wrong in my thinking.

I remember asking him if I could play with his dick. He said that was only something for later in my healing, to minimise the risk of dissociation. So, rejection again.I felt I wasn’t good enough to give him any pleasure. 

In some ways I felt like a little kid, because this loving and caring man had to explain why I wasn’t ready to give him the pleasure I had been given. I felt like bursting into tears then. It was like he’d taken my orgasms and said that they weren’t worth his orgasming too. It actually physically hurt. Like I’d been punched in the gut. But I didn’t say anything about that. I didn’t want to lose the cared for love I felt I had shared with this loving man.

I tried to rub his leg near his groin, but he wouldn’t let me do that either. All he said was “I think that’s enough of that”. Then I felt dirty as well as rejected. So although I was left feeling physically euphoric, at the same time mentally I felt I had been used and abused. However the positive post orgasm feeling made me tired enough to sleep on and off until morning. It was good restful relaxing sleep. And the nightmares stayed away all night.

As you can see this week, there are mixed emotions when having consensual sexual contact for the first time, particularly when it’s after forced sexual trauma. Hopefully you have also noticed that consent works both ways. My lover refused his consent to sexual contact on him. As distressing as this has been, I need to respect my lover’s decision. This is truly caring for someone you love.

After past traumatic sexual abuse and sexual assault, it is  easy to forget that your sexual partner has the same consensual rights as you do and it can feel like rejection at the time. However as you heal, you will come to see the importance of consent on both sides. That is how you will know that you truly are healing. Aren’t you excited?

This time, the gem of positivity is a quote attributed to  the actor Vincent Rodriguez 3:

“Rejection doesn’t always mean I’m not good enough”.

I have come to learn this to be true. My lover was not rejecting me because I wasn’t good enough, even though that’s how I perceived it at the time. He was actually protecting me from further traumatic sexual harm, based on my current stage of healing. That’s the relationship I want to have. Don’t you want to heal into that sort of relationship? 

Thank you for joining me on this short walk with me in my journey to heal. Don’t forget to leave a comment on how you view the word “rejection” . And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby.