Rape and Enthusiasm

 31. RAPE AND ENTHUSIASM

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 sexual abuse and sexual assault. Don’t forget to stay to the end, in order to enjoy my gem of positivity.

My reason for writing this blog, is to share with you my life as a sexually brutalised survivor. However, I am struggling at the moment. From now until March next year, I will be wrestling with many of my past demons. And so it comes to my annual problem.

Because of my “anniversaries”, I find a significant drop in my enthusiasm for things that I would otherwise find less difficult. Such as sharing my journey to heal with you. 

Now don’t get me wrong, I will be continuing to share with you the history of where I’ve been and how I’m learning and I want you the reader to be aware.

I still struggle, particularly when it comes to keeping up enthusiasm. Because I don’t necessarily enjoy the facing of my demons. It has been getting harder and harder to share with you, the reader, each week parts of my life. It’s a struggle when losing enthusiasm for things you know will help to reclaim your life. The horrors of the damaging effects from the abuse and assaults saps the energy, and so the enthusiasm, for life. 

That doesn’t mean that the enthusiasm is gone forever, as in my case. It simply means that the parts of my journey of healing that I share with you, may seem a little less helpful in your own journey.

I am already wallowing in the cesspool of my memories. The constant nightmares and daily flashbacks are too real to me for now. So although I am having a dip in my enthusiasm to share with you the reader each week, I need to prove a point. If to no one else, I have a point to prove to me.

Life without the enthusiasm is draining, colourless, a burden. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind, that you the reader, struggle to keep your enthusiasm at times, just as I do. That doesn’t mean your journey is stopped or at an end. It is simply life’s way of letting you catch your breath.

This journey of yours and mine to heal, is a struggle. Like climbing up a steep incline, where you find yourself actually staring the path ahead in the face. You end up breathless and discouraged. In all practical terms, you lose your enthusiasm to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The gem of positivity this time is words of wisdom from a popular book:

But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.

Here is the link:  https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew 7:14&version=NIV

To me, enthusiasm is not unlike this. There are times when I need to take stock. To make sure that I am still on the narrow path that will ultimately lead to me reclaiming my life. My greatest wish is that you too, will keep to your path, enthusiasm or not, to reclaim your life too.

What does lack of enthusiasm mean to you? What images does it bring to your mind? I invite you to leave a comment on your take on enthusiasm. Thank you for taking this short walk with me. And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby

Rape and Forgiveness

 30. RAPE AND FORGIVENESS 

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

The word “forgiveness” is very much a part of the whole ‘learning to be one with yourself’ movement. It is touted as being essential in the embodiment of our spirit. It’s a fantastic ideal, something which we are all aspire to.

However I am not there. Forgiveness to me means a tranquil sea in the sunshine. Not a ripple of disturbance. It’s as if nothing has ever happened that could have been troubling or wrong. No storm, not even a whale breach to capsize your boat.

I will be honest to say that in my journey to heal, I don’t feel that I can forgive all my perpetrators fully just yet. A lot has happened. So much hurt, pain, misery, despair, loss of hope. Hardly a peaceful scene, is it?

I have tried to forgive. Really I have. But I seem to have a block. Because now I do remember all the abuse. Every depraved bit of it. My past is worse than the bloodiest horror movie and more complex than the best psychological thriller around. To have my memories makes me physically ill.

My biggest problem with forgiving all that has been inflicted on me, is my point of view on forgiveness. I feel that if I forgive my perpetrators all they have done, it’s the same as saying that it was okay and didn’t matter. No big deal.

But it is a big deal. Every assault has driven me further into myself. The perpetrators have literally changed my life. And not in any good way, either. 

I’m afraid of being around people, even my own family. I seem unable to communicate and connect with the people in my community. I fear being touched. Even hugging I find unbearable. And as for being in a relationship, forget it. And it’s not only the sexual acts that turns me off. I struggle even to kiss a bloke I may be interested in.

Having said all that, one thing is becoming clearer in my journey of healing. Forgiveness is going to be a key element. And forgiving won’t be easy. But I have been looking at forgiveness from the wrong point of view. You see, my forgiveness isn’t for my perpetrators. It’s for me.

Forgiveness isn’t about giving my perpetrators the “all clear” signal. Forgiveness is about letting go of the control those perpetrators still have on my life. It’s about reclaiming my life. I’m not forgetting what has happened. Rather, I’m giving myself permission to move on.

To no longer be defined by what has happened, will help me to heal. To let go of the pain, the despair, the loss of hope. Don’t get me wrong, all of the abuse and sexual assaults have still happened. But forgiveness is about forgiving the person who was actually not at fault. Yourself.

As I have said, I’m not there yet. But with each and every day, I’m moving one step closer to healing from the person I blame the most. I’m not quite ready yet, but at least I now know that’s who I need to forgive.

The gem of positivity is I guess what you would call an affirmation. I’m sure I’ve seen it somewhere before, and I think it highly apt for this post:

I give myself permission to let go and move on

I know that it’s not easy to do. I’m struggling with this myself. But to truly heal, I need to to forgive. To do just what the affirmation says. To let go, and move on. For me.

What is your view on forgiveness? Do you need to let go and move on, just as I do? I invite you to leave a comment on your definition of forgiveness. And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby

Rape and My Dream Job: Part Three

 29. RAPE AND MY DREAM JOB: PART THREE 

Hello and welcome to Raped 25 Years. At this time, I share with you my journey to heal from sexual assault and abuse. Don’t forget to stay to the end, in order to enjoy my gem of positivity.

This is the third and final part in this small series. Here I end the glimpse into my “dream job” experience. In this part of the series, there are particularly graphic and vivid recollections. I offer no apology. It is my life I am sharing with you. I have lived it.

I found out I was four months pregnant. It happened when I was hit on the head and viciously raped by Bob. The dates matched. In another particularly savage physical assault from Alex, I was thrown to the ground, beaten and kicked brutally. I lost the baby. I was scared, I needed to become invisible at work.

I collapsed at work. It was a result of my efforts to remove myself from the horrendously traumatic situation that my life had become. I was now diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, I was granted sick leave from work. It was during this period of “rest” Alex entrapped me in my home and forced me for involuntary sex slavery. Before going back to work, I made a stand against Alex. He stabbed me just below my throat. But he left. I returned to my “dream job”.

I had been moved to a position where I moved around, working on all the company’s farms. And things went from bad to worse. Every farm had someone who took what they wanted from me — physically, emotionally, mentally. I was even urinated on as a daily occurrence.

On a big farm the assistant manager took me into the farm office. I was made to watch pornography on the work computer with him. That particular farm also had five permanent farm hands (a man I will refer to as Ralph) and the rest of his gang. They often snuck up on me. The men would gang rape and torture me at work. They hurt me in unbearable unspeakable ways. They had  me in constant fear.

 I told the doctor the men at work were brutally and traumatisingly raping me. He told me to not be so ridiculous. “Women can’t be forced to have sex if they keep their legs together”. I didn’t speak up again. My eating disorder diagnosis spiralled out of control.

One day Ralph and the workers snuck up on me and four  of them pinned me down. Ralph had a piece of poly pipe. He said I needed to bleed from my vagina and uterus. They didn’t want me getting pregnant. In the pain, fear and horror of that brutally cruel and unprecedented attack, my mind just went black. 

I regained my senses. The men were gone. I was in enormous pain and bleeding. Thankfully it was home time. I had trouble walking. The pain was unbearable. I managed to clock off and got to my car. I drove home with my eyes mostly shut. Searing ropes of agony wracked my fragile self. I lost the twins I had been carrying. 

At my next appointment with the doctor  I agreed to go in an eating disorder unit. Anything to get away from work. I couldn’t just quit. I would feel weak to quit. Like I was telling the perpetrators of my nightmare they had won. I refused to let those vile beasts claim that honour. I was fearful of losing that steady job. I knew I could not stay. So I went to hospital. All I had wanted was to get my work done but I was never to return to that “dream job”. 

The abiding effects of the traumas described in this series are many. The nightmares and flashbacks continue to this day. There is the shattering of my sense of trust in people, especially men. There is the inability to find safety and security in a loving sexual relationship. Heartbreaking too, is the forever living side effect of having been made reproductively barren. 

The anonymous quote I found for this post, I feel sums the series up beautifully:

“Always defend your right to heal at your own pace. You are taking your time. You are allowed to take your time.”

Although it was not my choice to be traumatically abused in the workplace, it did happen. Bit by bit, over time. I now need to allow myself  the time to heal. And you do too.

Thank you for taking this walk with me in my path of healing. Feel free to leave a comment on how you are allowing yourself time to heal. It may just help another reader in their journey. And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby

Rape and My Dream Job: Part Two

 28. RAPE AND MY DREAM JOB: PART TWO

Hello and welcome to Raped 25 Years. At this time, I share with you my journey to heal from sexual assault and abuse. Don’t forget to stay to the end, in order to enjoy my gem of positivity. 

 This is part two in this three-part series. I am continuing to take you further into my “dream job” experiences. This part carries on directly from where we stopped last post.  

After two months Jacob asked to be moved to another farm. Now I had no protection against Derek. He started to drive around the farm looking for me when he finished his assigned duties. Derek tried to catch me alone. Sometimes I was alone. Then he went further than touching. He became very jealous if I was sent to work with the other men. Especially new worker Max.  Max became a good and loyal friend. He told me to say something about what Derek was doing. 

In the mean time, Derek started openly raping me. He did it at break times but no one said anything. So neither did I. But I started to avoid break times. Derek started catching me in the cool cells when I was sent to clean all sheds. I couldn’t get away in the cramped space and he committed the same traumatic abusive rapes as Jacob had. Derek laughed as he hurt me. 

I made a random comment to a family member, Jack,  that I didn’t like being hugged by Derek or having his hands on me. Jack gave me an ultimatum. Either I told Mr Jones, or he would. I felt angry with Jack for not really giving me a choice. The next day I was scared of telling Mr Jones, as I knew I would be blamed for being trouble. So instead I told the assistant manager, Stan. I am too afraid to tell Mr Jones. I don’t mention things have gone beyond the odd feel and hugging. Even Jack didn’t know about that. 

The same day Mr Jones called me into the small office. He typed out my formal complaint. He then told me he knew I would be trouble. I felt very guilty for having spoken up at all. Max stood up for me and verified my complaint. Derek was moved to another farm. It was the same one Jacob was on and I got a perverse kind of pleasure in knowing that. I found out Derek did the same thing when he worked as a manager in a fast food restaurant as he had done to me.

After Derek was moved he started leaving notes on my car. It was all my fault. I was ruining his marriage. When he and his wife started phoning me at home and threatening me, I moved out of  Jack’s home into rented accommodation. Anything to get away from Derek. I needed to keep Jack and his family safe. The threats only stopped when Derek was transferred to one of the farms over 470 miles (about 750km) away, at his own request.

One day I was going into a shed. Mr Jones’ manager Bob hit me on the back of the head. I blacked out for a minute. When I came to my overalls were undone. He had his hands in my pants. I was too dazed. I couldn’t struggle. He savagely raped me, whilst I was on the floor of a shed, frozen in terror. When he finished humiliating my inner self, Bob told me if I said anything Jack would lose his job, and I wouldn’t be believed anyway. I increased my weight loss efforts, trying desperately to become invisible to the other workers.

Then Bob lost his drivers license due to drunk driving. He was demoted into a manager position on a single farm. Everything at work was reshuffled. Mr Jones moved up the promotional ladder into Bob’s vacated position.  Stan became my manager. His brother-in-law, Alex drove trucks. One day Stan talked to me. Since I  lived in a whole house I rented on my own, I needed to take Alex in as a housemate. If I didn’t I would lose my job and it would have made things difficult for Jack to keep his. I didn’t want Jack to lose his job because of me. And so Alex moved in.

As you can see, my “dream job” was well and truly becoming my worst nightmare. I wanted to stick at my work, in the naive hope that all these perpetrators would change if I did something different. I took on the blame of the traumatic and criminal acts that these perpetrators violated me with. But the blame was not my burden to carry. The burden of blame belonged with these perpetrators.

In my journey of healing, I am needing to learn to put the blame where it really belongs. Not with me. Not with you the reader. But the criminal perpetrators of such insidious abusive trauma. It is with them alone the fault of the situation lies.

And now for your gem of positivity. It is attributed to C. Kennedy, and is perfect for this post:

“Don’t judge yourself for what others did to you”.

My hope is that in my journey of healing, I will be able to apply this quote to my unresolved feelings of false blame and guilt. Because the feeling of needing to carry that burden is a false one. It was never mine to carry. And it’s not yours either.

Thank you for joining me in this second part of my three-part look at my experience in my “dream job”. Please leave a comment on how you are releasing your false burden. Don’t forget to return next time, as I conclude this series of  sharing my experiences in this particular situation with you. And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby