Rape and Suicide

 40. RAPE AND SUICIDE 

Hello and welcome back to Raped 25 Years. Here I invite you to take a short walk with me in my journey of healing from sexual trauma. Don’t forget to stay to the end, in order to enjoy my gem of positivity.

Talking about suicide is always a touchy topic. For many, the subject is taboo. By even mentioning the word “suicide”, our society thinks it won’t happen. That by simply avoiding talking about the ultimate end of one person’s life, will mean suicide will never ever be tried.

To me, that is such foolish thinking. By hiding and tabooing even the very word suicide, it keeps things secretive, furtive. I know. I’ve tried several times to end my own life.

The utter desperation of my own situations in my life, have lead me to try two different methods, and even try the two together. Needless to say, they haven’t worked and I am still here. Please understand, I am not promoting the choice of suicide. However as a part of my journey, I need to talk about this part of my life. I don’t want to hide these parts of my life, just because the topic makes society cringe

Each time I have attempted to kill myself, I have been at such utter lows in my life. I tried while I was being brutally abused by the men at work, and by the man I refer to only as Alex. But I have also tried to commit suicide since leaving those situations. 

Post traumatically, there are nightmares, day terrors and flashbacks. So it seems as if you are experiencing the traumatising over again. It truly seems like you can never get away; I always feel that way at my worst.

It’s a lonely feeling, so utterly alone. When I have been in that headspace, it’s hard to even come up to breathe, let alone talk about how I feel with anyone. That is one of the problems I have when feeling suicidal. The feeling that if I talk about it, I will just drag my friends and family into the same abyss that I am in. And I don’t want to do that. I’d rather keep my misery and distress to myself than depress the people I care about.

When I get to the brink, I can’t see how my sudden death at my own hand will affect anyone else. I become blinkered, blinded almost, by my own despair. I honestly can’t see how my actions could, nor would, affect others. I love my caring community I have built around myself. Yet I can’t understand the difference my loss could possibly be to them. But when I process my feelings and emotions, I can then see that my loss would actually destroy the people around me. 

I am grateful for having Dr H in my life as my therapist. He is able to see when I struggle, and tell when I am keeping things back, and hiding my feelings.

I am being encouraged to speak more freely about my thoughts to the people around me every day. And slowly, but surely, I am able to talk about my black emotions. Surprisingly enough (well, surprising to me), it is helping. Though sometimes I do still go black. My emotions aren’t quite so all consuming. Don’t get me wrong, I do still struggle. But I’m also starting to do something far better. I’m starting to heal.

What about you? Are you struggling to cope with the pain and distress of your traumatic experiences? Find one person. One person who cares and understands the darkness you reach. They might not go through that dark themselves, but they can lend you a light when you reach yours. So that you can do what I’m doing. So you can heal, too.

The gem this time is an applicable saying I heard when I was in a mental health facility. Unfortunately I don’t know where it came from, but I’m grateful for the person who did:

If you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, march down there and light it yourself.

When I first heard this, I was insulted. How on earth could I light my own darkness?  The saying made me angry and feel bitter towards the person who was saying it. But you know what? It’s true. Because that is what healing means. Learning, eventually, to make your own light through your darkness. How about you give it a go?

Thank you for joining me for this walk in my journey of healing with me. Don’t forget to leave a comment on how you are making your own light. And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby

Rape and Health Checks

 39. RAPE AND HEALTH CHECKS 

Hello and welcome back to Raped 25 Years. Here I invite you to walk alongside with me, as I share my journey to heal from sexual abuse and sexual trauma. Don’t forget to stay to the end, so you can enjoy my gem of positivity.

As a part of everyday life, it is normal to have health checkups to monitor your physical and mental wellbeing. But what if a doctor was part of your brutal, horrific abuse? What do you do then?

Traumatically, this happened to me. Whilst under the merciless control of the perpetrator I will refer to as Alex, I was forced to see a family physician many times. And when I say forced, I literally mean it; Alex would physically drag me in to this doctor’s surgery, then tape my mouth so I couldn’t scream.

This doctor did (off the record) health checkups for abusers like Alex, on women like me, and you. These were monthly health checks for pregnancy. And why might I be pregnant? From nothing more nor less than repeated brutalising traumatic rape from multiple men.

Every time, a pregnancy was detected, I would be tied to the doctor’s clinic room bed, a wad of dressing stuffed into my mouth, and an abortion performed right then and there. No anaesthetic, no painkillers at all. This traumatic fear made me avoid seeking medical treatment, even when I did need it.

Now what do you think? Would you think that fear of doctors understandable? Yes, I would, if I was hearing this account of such utter despicable “healthcare”. But despite this fear being a totally rational reaction, it can lead to complications. This fear instilled in me all those years ago, has made me pay a price. 

For example, it stopped me from getting the help I needed when I had gut-stabbing pains in my lower abdomen. Until I had to have a hysterectomy, my uterus reduced to a ball of scar tissue from the continual rapes and internal physical violations. Even now, it has stopped me from getting help.

Three months ago, my left nipple started to bleed. But I never mentioned a thing to anyone. That is, until Dr H noticed something was amiss in my behaviour. He insisted that I needed to see a physician about it. Even then, I left it another six weeks until the pain became too obvious to the people who care about me to notice.

Finally, despite my traumatic fear, I was taken to see a female doctor I found to be extremely sensitive and caring. She immediately prescribed a scan of both breasts. So within ten days, I had both a mammogram and ultrasound of my breasts. A week later, I was back to see the doctor. The mammogram indicated nothing, but the ultrasound was different. It had found a lump, or mass, in the left breast, 6 centimetres (2.5 inches) from the nipple.

After another test (fine needle biopsy), my breast has a deep throbbing pain. Sometimes the pain shoots into my left arm, and even down into my hand. I can only hope (and pray) that the results will be clear. All this pain and suffering because of that original physician.

And what about you? Do you put off routine health checks because of your brutalised past? I did, to my detriment. But with this current scare, I’ve had time to think.You see because of my traumatic past, I pushed my health needs away. Almost as if I didn’t deserve to enjoy good health. But it’s not true, for me — or you. Both you and I are deserving of enjoying good physical health, despite the pasts. We are just as worthy of appropriate treatment of our health needs as anyone else. Sometimes, you just have to find the doctor that suits you, who you feel you can trust. I think I finally have. And you will too.

This time, I have chosen an affirmation:

I listen to my body’s needs.

And that’s exactly what I’m now, belatedly, trying to do. My body’s needs are more than just food and water. I need to listen to my body when it tells me it needs medical help. Our body needs to be listened to when it hurts. Especially because of our past traumas, our body needs someone who will listen. And that starts with me listening first. You can listen to your own body’s needs, too.

Thank you for taking this short walk with me. Don’t forget to leave a comment on what your body is telling you it needs. And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby

Rape and Humiliation

 38. RAPE AND HUMILIATION 

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

I don’t think there is anyone who has never felt humiliated. After all, that is the aim of any person who tries to make themselves look and feel better than the person being humiliated. And just as there is a variation in the humiliating words/behaviours, there is a understanding on each person’s definition of humiliation.

In the job I used to work in, I was truly humiliated many times, and in many different ways. It wasn’t just the gang rapes, although they were bad enough. The rapes were a humiliation by violating my body, despite my pleas to stop. Unfortunately, though, the humiliation didn’t stop there.

My humiliation was in having these rapists act in ways that would  make even the most hardened defence lawyer vomit. These gang-raping “co-workers” would push me onto my knees and force my mouth open, but only after brutally sexually violating my body. They then each took a turn at putting their dicks in my mouth and urinating.

Every single time the urine hit the back of my throat, I would gag and cough. I would be unable to catch my breath. And what did these perpetrators do at my distress? They laughed. Every single one would roar with laughter. The humiliation was unbearable.

After being horrifically gang raped, I was then dragged to the rest room at work. Then watched as my “work mates”  scooped out handfuls of their own excrement. To then have them rub their faecal matter all over my body. And yes, I do literally mean every single bit of me. Why would these perpetrators do such a despicable thing? To hurt me mentally and emotionally so badly it was personally devastating.

It’s hard for people to understand the horrors and humiliation of having their body used and abused in non consensual sexual acts, if they haven’t been there themselves.  And for that, I am truly glad. I would never wish what I, and you, have been through on anyone. No woman, nor man for that matter, would I wish the horrific depraved acts of sexual violation. 

And how am I healing from such utter humiliation? Slowly. Oh, so slowly. As you will understand, the sexually sadistic humiliation has etched a permanent indentation on my body and soul. It is now so much harder to be able to truly trust what people say, and how they behave. It has even made therapy more difficult. I always wonder if my therapists, Dr H and Dr Q, have similar ulterior motives for what they are doing. 

But the further I get in my journey of healing, I find I am able to start  trusting again. Little by little, my trust is in being in therapy with my therapists. I’m trusting that they will not add to my pain of the humiliations I have already suffered. And I am even starting to believe that they never will.

And what about you? How are you healing from the painful traumatic humiliations that you have been through? Are you starting to trust again, or is that still a long way off from you yet? Notice that little word “yet”. You see, just as I am finding out for myself in my journey, it is possible to heal. Don’t get me wrong, you will never forget your humiliation. But even so, you can accept the past and heal.

This time I have chosen a quote from none other than Mahatma Gandhi:

“It has always been a mystery to me how men can feel honored by the humiliation of their fellow beings”

And how true this is. There are people out there who will think themselves honored by the humiliation they bring onto others. They think it makes them better than the person they are humiliating. But to me, and as I heal, I’m finding more and more that I’m the honored one. I have the honour of saying, “yes I have been truly humiliated by other people, but I’m strong enough to survive and heal”. You can have that honor too.

Thank you for taking this short walk with me in my journey to heal. Don’t forget to leave a comment on your understanding of the quote. And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby

Touched By a Man After Rape

 37. TOUCHED BY A MAN AFTER RAPE

Hello, and welcome to Raped 25 Years. At this time I invite you to 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.

This time, I’m going to talk about being touched by a man after the violation of rape. This is an issue for many rape survivors. People like me, and you.

What does it mean to me to be touched by a man? To start with, it depends upon the man and the circumstances. As a general rule post traumatically, just being around men causes my skin to break out in goose bumps, even now. It makes my skin crawl, and I loathe any actual physical contact. Even male members of the family give me the same feeling — one of not being safe.

I think it’s more a matter of reaching my inner emotions, the very core of my being. So to feel safe in allowing touch from a man, I need a feeling of safety. If I don’t feel safe, then I don’t trust. And if I don’t trust, any sort of touch is a no go. It sets off danger signals of hyper arousal and flashbacks. In which case any form of touch contact is perceived as sexual abuse.

The inner part of my thighs are sensitive. Even if I touch there, let alone a man, it automatically sends me back to the original brutalisations. That then sets off the automatic trauma rape response. 

My clitoris oscillates traumatically between completely numb, or excruciatingly painful. My clitoris was heavily abused. When I fantasise a man stroking my clitoris now, I feel normal emotions. Arousing yes, but because any relationship would be built on safety and trust.

Generally speaking, my arms and legs are sensitive to touch. So to have a man touch my arms or legs actually results in a trauma response orgasm. It’s not something I want to happen, the orgasm just happens. Firm touch is better than light, but that doesn’t necessarily mean no orgasm. Even simply massaging my feet and calves can still bring on orgasms. All these orgasms are excruciatingly painful, and often dissociating.

My head and hair. I find having my hair stroked by a man, as comforting, not necessarily sexual. However, the face is a trigger zone due to the number of times I’ve been slapped by Alex. The back of my neck, that’s pure fear due to strangulations and assaults.

I love giving Eskimo kisses (nose to nose). I even taught my last dog to give me Eskimo kisses. The nose is fine. I can be touched there, and even kissed there, without any problems. Cheeks I don’t like at all. Kissing on the cheek is upsetting. A man touching my ears, and the sides of my neck, feels enjoyably intimate but won’t necessarily cause an orgasm.

The upper breast to the nipple and the front of the neck, triggers both arousal and fear. Arousal as a reflex pleasure which turns me on, but traumatic fear in case I get hit or grabbed by the throat.

And now for my belly. Again it’s a matter of trust and safety. As a general rule, I don’t even like doctors touching me there. The exception to the rule is my gastroenterologist. He’s safe to me, and I trust him. I don’t like tummy touch from men in general. When a man I now trust touches my tummy, it automatically feels like safety, strength and protection.

And what about you? How do you and your body perceive touch by a man? Is it an automatic trauma response? As you can see from the above, I have had a strong aversion to being touched by men. However, as I heal those automatic trauma responses are becoming less. I am now able to have innocent accidental touch from men, without the trauma response orgasms. And as you travel through your journey of healing, you will find this too.

To conclude, I have chosen an affirmation. If it is attributed to any one person I do not know, but I thought it very fitting:

I deserve kind and gentle touch.

This is true of everyone. We all deserve to be touched gently and kindly, no matter who we are, or our background. And it doesn’t only apply to physical contact, but our hearts as well. I am slowly learning this, and as you heal, you will too.

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

With love and care, Ruby

Rape and Guilt

 36. RAPE AND GUILT

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

Today I going to talk about the emotion of guilt. It’s the kind of guilt I feel after being raped. And I’m going to use a Dialectic Behavioural Therapy exercise to describe it (well, as best I can).

To me, the color of the guilt I feel, is green. Not neon or pastel green either, but sometimes a strong lush pasture green, and at other times, the darker forest green. Why green, I’m not exactly sure, but it is green. What color is guilt to you?

And what sound do I associate with guilt? The quickening of my breath. And surprisingly enough, the strained sound of silence. Yes, it seems like a silly concept. But for me, silence does have a sound of its very own. What about you?

The body sensations are not unlike distress and fear, to me. It feels like my gut has worked itself up into a washing-machine type of action. It spins round and around. It also feels like my tummy contents are being sloshed around, which is just like the wash cycle. It feels like there are bubbles of soap suds building up on the inside, a very uncomfortable feeling. How does your body sense guilt?

And the picture I see? This is harder to define and explain, and therapy has helped. The picture of guilt is that of me standing before a big dark shadow of a person. My head is hanging down, unable to look the shadow-person in the face. I avoid eye contact at all cost. I even see the toe of my right foot/shoe trying to twist its way into the ground. 

The intensity to which I feel the guilt of my childhood molestation and consequent rapes, is immense. The weight of the guilt feels like a constant heavy burden, pressing me ever deeper. I can’t even begin to describe the burden of weight. It presses all over my body, not just one part. 

I don’t quite know how to express my feelings of guilt as a quality. I guess the best way to explain the quality of my felt guilt, is as a deep core emotion. It’s completely invasive of my whole being. Right down to my very soul. My feelings of guilt take on an all consuming quality, so quick it seems to have overtaken me. And yet so insidiously slow to release.

The thoughts are fairly much the same as each other:

“If I hadn’t worn…..”

“If I hadn’t smiled at him…..”

“If I hadn’t done……”

So, as you can see, I have been, and still am, taking on the guilt of what perpetrators have done to me. The pedofiles groomed me to believe the abuse was my fault. And every subsequent perpetrator has lain the burden of guilt squarely upon me. And yet that is faulty thinking. It is not my fault that I was sexually abused as a child. That action belongs to the perpetrators. Same with all the subsequent rapes and abuse. I’m carrying the guilt, but it’s not mine at all.

Dr H is slowly helping me to understand the truth of the guilt not actually being mine. But after believing the guilt to be mine for so long, I am learning that this healing takes time. At least now the logical part of me knows the truth and admits it. I just have to wait for my emotional side of me to catch up.

Many abuse and rape survivors buy into believing the lie of the guilt being theirs. It’s a natural faulty trauma coping response. Trying to make sense of the senseless, by taking the guilt on themselves. I know, I’ve done that myself. It’s by far easier said than done, but you and I need to place the guilt where it belongs. And that place is with the perpetrators of such vile acts.

For this post, I have chosen a quote that is attributed to Terri Guillemets:

“Guilt is always hungry; don’t let it consume you.”

This is only too true, when it comes to accepting the responsibility, and thus guilt of abuse done to a person. The guilt of the abominable abuse I have had, did consume me. But that doesn’t need to be the case. Once I am able to truly place the guilt with the perpetrators, then the guilt monster will just have to go hungry around me. What about you?

Thank you for taking this short walk with me in my journey of healing. Don’t forget to leave a comment on how you are letting guilt go hungry. And until next time, just breathe and believe.

With love and care, Ruby