rape

All posts tagged rape

Published May 9, 2018 by Chloe Madison

This screenshot is from the movie, “Speak.” That’s the guy who raped her leaning over her. She didn’t tell anyone about the rape- hence the name, “Speak” as she tries to find her voice.

This is how I feel every time I’m near where he lives. It makes me want to throw up. I wish he wasn’t here.

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Published January 30, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I cannot stand this feeling.

I can’t even articulate it. I feel so, so alone. I can’t get over how incredibly alone I am in this world. I think it would be easier if I was the only human on earth, instead of being surrounded by people.

My roommate went to our apartment when I was at work today and took a bunch of her stuff. I only saw her once since I was in the hospital. That time, she came by the apartment and tried to run out without speaking to me. I said hi to her and she said hi back…but she refused to even look me in the face. She literally darted out the door. I don’t know why I’m so bothered that she took some of her things today. It just feels more empty.

It’s a more physical reality of the fact that people are distancing themselves from me. She acts like I have the plague. Everyone who knows I was in the hospital acts like that. People have stayed away from me, have stopped talking to me….and people who I used to think cared, have made it clear they don’t even trust me anymore. I’m broken over that. So, so disturbed and hurt and broken over that. Just as I start to open up and share and trust another human being, they bolt and act like I’m diseased…like they’re not allowed to be in the same room with me. It makes me feel like shit.

I wish to God I could just disappear. Forever. For fucking ever.

I hate this. I hate myself. I hate that I can’t connect with people and when I do, it somehow backfires and they bail. I hate that I don’t trust people…and I hate that they don’t trust me. Don’t people know I wouldn’t hurt a soul? To feel unwanted and not trusted…ugh…it’s a horrible, horrible feeling.

I have no idea where I’ll be living come this summer. I’ll need to move again. I don’t know where to go. I’m thinking of putting my stuff in storage and going without a place for the summer- just to save money. I’m not praying much, but the very few things I’m asking God for includes a place to call home. Somewhere I can belong.

But I just don’t. I simply don’t belong anywhere or with anyone. I wish I had a family. A nice, loving family that talked and hugged each other all the time. Tears are streaming down my face and clouding my vision as I write this. I want to belong. I want a family. This, though….this will never happen.

Resiliency.

That’s something I don’t have. You would think I do…after all that I’ve been through, I’m still walking upright. I was physically, psychologically, and very much emotionally abused by my mom. My father molested me when I was 11 or 12. My mom and grandma conspired to cover it up. When I was 9, I was raped so many times by a neighbor, that I don’t even know how many times…that included sodomy. That shame has never left me. My father died from cancer only about a year later…after I wished him dead. For half of my life, I thought it was my fault he died. I got pregnant at 18 and planned to marry my boyfriend. My mom wouldn’t allow it. She forced an abortion on us. I was raped again when I was 22. I got pregnant and out of fear of every possible scenario, I had another abortion, believing it was the best course of action. I still solemnly remember those would-be birthdays. I believe that’s why God won’t give me any more children. My house has been broken into, my car has been stolen. My uncle committed suicide over the fact that my dad sexually abused him and no one believed him. My father is a sexual predator/ molester/ whatever you want to call it. I’ve been mugged, pretty much every single crime you can think of has been perpetrated against me. Yet, I still stand. Wobbly and shaking and reaching out for something to hold on to for support…but I’m still upright.

But I’m no longer resilient. This has changed me. I’ve given up.

I used to be much happier. I saw a video of myself today from a while back and I couldn’t believe how funny, energetic, and happy I was. I didn’t even know the girl in the video. It was surreal to watch someone who looks so much like me be so completely different from who I am now. Is that what depression does to you? Is that what anxiety and PTSD does? Is that what happens when you’ve lost hope and people have dipped out of your life because they simply don’t care? Do you turn into this wasteland of a body with nothing but numbingly sharp emotions and tears and fears? Do you just have so much rage inside that you have to act- even if that means hurting yourself?

Published December 20, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Watch this:

https://vimeo.com/247425613

3:35 Her whole story resonates, but at 3:35, man it struck me hard. So, so true.

It’s just unattainable for some of us. I don’t see this getting any better. I don’t see people recovering from this. My uncle didn’t. I’m not. It’s just not meant to be. I’m glad that it happened to me and not someone else though- I’d rather be a casualty in someone else’s place. And for those of us in this position, we’ll just never live normal lives. There’s nothing that can be done.

Why God does this, I’ll never know. And whatever…that’s fine. I guess he has to appoint this to someone…so I’ll take it and go.

Below are the lyrics to Korn’s “Bottled Up Inside”

It ain’t fading

Man I gotta let it out

Am I crazy?

Screaming nothing ever comes out

I keep feeling lost

I’ll never find my way out

I’m not thanking them

Unless the truth can pour out

Give me some courage

Beating me down now for some time

Are you laughing am I funny?

I hate inside,

I hate inside.

I’ll take this time

To let out what’s inside

Cause I will break

Sometimes I wish you’d die

Full of sorrow

You raped and stole my pride.

And all this hate is bottled up inside

My heart’s breaking

Man you really ripped it out

You take pleasure watching as

I claw my way out

The hurt rising

Soon it’s gonna tear my soul out

It’s not kosher feeling like I’m on my way out

Give me some courage

Beating me down now for some time

Are you laughing am I funny?

I hate inside,

I hate inside.

I’ll take this time

To let out what’s inside

Cuz I will break

Sometimes I wish you’d die

Full of sorrow

You raped and stole my pride.

And all this hate is bottled up inside

Feeling the haze as they cut down my spine

Pealing your flesh like the way you’ve cut mine

Do you feel happy, you fucked up my mind

You’re going to pay this time

I’ll take this time

To let out what’s inside

Cause I will break

Sometimes I wish you’d die

Full of sorrow

You raped and stole my pride.

And all this hate is bottled up inside

I’ll take this time

To let out what’s inside

Cause I will break

Sometimes I wish you’d die

Full of sorrow

You raped and stole my pride.

And all this hate is bottled up inside

I change the line, “Are you laughing? Am I funny?” to “Are you laughing at my body?” It relates to me more. And I don’t wish death on my perpetrators the way he does in this song. But I do need an outlet. I absolutely do.

My friend who called 911 that horrible night…I’d asked him a couple of times right afterwards to not come and read this blog for a while. It’s not to be rude or mean or to push anyone away- it’s just so I don’t need to worry about what I say. I’m almost certain he’s been respecting that. But I feel stifled here…I’m still so scared to say what I truly want and need to say. I’M SO AFRAID TO EXPRESS MYSELF- to anyone, anywhere. I need a place to un-bottle my emotions and thoughts, no matter how horrible they are. I can’t keep them inside. Inside me, it’s like poison…and I’ve got to get it out. I’ve been thinking for about a month about this and I think I’m going to start a new blog. I’m still going to write here and maybe use the other one for when I’m REALLY not doing well and I need to get it out, but I’m too afraid to express it here. It’s not worth the risk of getting locked up again. NOTHING is worth that. Nothing. Certainly not my life.

I will probably still need to write here every day. I’ve noticed my writing has increased a lot and it’s been much more haphazard. But that’s ok. I don’t care. I’m just getting out whatever happens to be inside- haphazard or not.

Published December 13, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Fuuuuu…. I am so infuriated and I don’t even know why. I just left my two doctor appointments. This last guy said I rated as severe for depression, but “moderately severe.” He even suggested I get into group counseling that could meet for up to 3 times a week, if I felt I needed that support. I don’t. I’m fine. I’m shocked that I rated so severely. Am I not seeing this? On top of that, all the questions I answered were for the last 2 weeks only!! And I’ve felt a tiny bit better these last few weeks- I mean, I actually had a good day here and there. So if I’m “moderately severe” now, what the hell was I before? Severely severe?

That depresses me so much. It makes me mad. Why though? This is probably the first time since I’ve been out that I actually wanted to hurt myself. I just feel so much rage and strong….gah….I don’t even know!

Speaking of hurting myself, with talking with this guy and why/ how I got hospitalized…I WILL NEVER, EVER say on this blog that I want to die or kill myself ever again. It’s not worth getting locked up for. Just because I don’t say it, doesn’t mean I’m not thinking it. But I refuse to go through that again. I don’t have the freedom to say what I want…but hey, welcome to America. Land of the free. Unless you’ve been raped. Then you’re not free. You’re not free to express yourself. You’re not free of your fears. You’re not free of anything this shitty life has in store for you.

I can’t believe I’m worse off than I think. I just don’t believe that. Am I that blind?

The med management doctor is increasing my dosage. Doubling it. Not because of me though…he says that almost no one experiences the benefits of Zoloft on 50mg. (Then why do they even make a 25mg?) But he said it’s only 1 of 2 medications proven to treat PTSD. The other med, he said, he doesn’t prescribe because the side effects are crazy bad. He was much nicer than the second doc. He made me feel bad about 2 things though. One was my hope (<— f*** that word) in the medicine. He said for someone like me, dealing with huge and multiple traumas, that meds are only 10% of the equation. The rest needs to come from therapy. 😞 I had wished the meds would help more than just 10%. The other thing was my problem regulating my body temp and not having my period for 2 months now. I thought (and still think) I was so distressed when I was locked up, that I skipped it then and it’s listed as a side effect…so I thought maybe that’s why I still don’t have it. He suggested I might have early menopause!! What the..?? No, don’t tell me that. Don’t crush my dreams of ever having children!! Are you freaking kidding me?? No. No. No.

Everyone says “wait” on God. Wait for a husband. Wait for children and a family. God will give you the desires of your heart.

F that. He doesn’t. This is proof.

Published December 12, 2017 by Chloe Madison

The last few days have been weird. Saturday was ok. Sunday was different. I woke up around 4am with a massive borderline migraine. I took my migraine pills and hoped it would be gone in time for church. Just as I thought I’d have to skip church, my headache started to wane. After church, I broke down crying with a friend. She sat there and listened to me for two straight hours- nothing but me pouring my heart out, fears, anxieties, frustrations, everything. I’m so grateful for her and her willingness to listen.

The rest of the day I was in the most massive haze. I wandered around a mall in a stupor. I have no idea what was going on. For the first time I found it hard to be in crowds. I’ve never had an issue with that before. I viewed about every other person as a possible threat to me. I don’t know why. I was so out of it. I went to write here multiple times and I couldn’t even compose my thoughts correctly. I didn’t have the energy to try to make my brain work. ??

Last night came and left with very little sleep. Part of it was my brain- it was chaos. It felt like a bomb was continually exploding in my head. So many different things running through my mind, yet nothing made sense. Pure chaos.

The other part of it was my little pup. He was pretty sick last night. I wound up running him outside 6 times because of diarrhea. I gave him meds, snuggled him, and all I can do is hope he feels better soon. I feel so helpless with him. 😣

I had a nightmare last night, but can’t remember it. I don’t know how I had a chance to dream because I only slept for two hours. I didn’t think that was enough time to enter REM sleep. The other night I had a weird nightmare. I was a hostage with a lot of other people who were taken hostage as well. We were inside of an empty multi-story building and they had separated us into small groups- except I had been kept alone. I remember being crouched down on the floor and staring at several bright red maple leaves on the floor. Each leaf had three lines cut into it, all lined up next to each other. (I have no idea what that’s all about) And then there was something about a parade inside the building with the other hostages. I can’t remember that clearly anymore.

I don’t know what the hostage dream means. It could relate to earlier trauma, but I think it might relate more to being locked up. The strong feelings I had in my dream were the same overwhelming emotions I experienced while in the hospital. Maybe me being crouched down on the floor in my dream is the same as when I would retreat to my bed and curl up and cry. I’m not sure.

I hate that.

I hate that time.

Nov. 3 will forever live as a horrible, horrible day.

I see myself on that day as one little square piece of thin toilet paper. All the trauma, abuse, rape, abortion, deception and betrayal…it has all worn me so thin. As thin and fragile as one piece of toilet paper. Getting locked up was like someone violently throwing a huge bucket of water on me. I just disintegrated. So quickly.

I don’t see how people get through stuff like this. I really don’t. This doesn’t get better. It doesn’t get easier. People are mean. People are not understanding. I don’t know what else to say.

There’s no coming back from disintegration.

Published November 28, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Overall, today was a good day. It was good to get back to work and see everyone. People told me they missed me over Thanksgiving break and that was a nice surprise to hear. Plus, I REALLY don’t do well when I have too much free time to let my brain wander and stew on my issues. So it’s good to get back to work and feel productive.

I woke up last night at 2am with a migraine. Stupid hospital bills stressing me out. I got another one today- another $6,000 something for the 5 days. I’m suspicious though that there might be more- how can 8 hours in the ER cost three times more than 5 days and nights in a hospital? Is that normal? Anyway, I’m worried there might be some more charges coming. I got additional charges for the ER doctor…and there weren’t any charges yet for the hospital doctors for the 5 days…(YIKES!!!) I’m worried that will be coming soon… 😨

I just keep repeating to myself, “don’t freak out!”

“Don’t freak out!”

“Don’t freak out!”

Gah….😓 I cannot handle this. I cannot handle any more strain on my life. I kept saying to myself over and over again today, “my life is not worth $16,000!!!”

And it’s not. It’s so true. 😦

Alright…what I’m thankful for: I’m thankful for having a good, albeit headache-filled day at work. I’m thankful for better dreams these last few days- I literally dreamed of puppies and ice cream and donuts! 😂 I kid you not! The puppies were drowning…but in my dream, we saved them all and got them all adopted. So it all worked out well. No nightmares last night either… but I was awake at 2am and couldn’t go back to sleep (even with sleeping pills). Hopefully, that won’t happen tonight.

I’m also thankful for something else. I thought a lot about my uncle yesterday and I meant to write that I was thankful for this yesterday, but I got side tracked when I got the hospital bills. I was thinking how he told people that my dad sexually abused him and no one believed him. Knowing that my grandma knew about my abuse and conspired to cover it up…I believe that she believed my uncle, but maybe acted like she didn’t in order to keep it all quiet and protect my dad. But, everyone else that he told… no one believed him. That makes me so sad. I was thinking about that and I realized that I haven’t had that issue. Yes, my mom and grandma knew all along and did nothing to help me or protect me…but I never told them. I never told anyone until I was 18 years old. That’s the first time I had the courage to say a word. I never had the experience of someone not believing me. And that’s what I’m thankful for. I can’t imagine how much more damaging this could be if I was told I wasn’t believed. It made me see that my uncle had more damage done by not having support when he sought it out. That’s so messed up. I’m so grateful that the very few people I’ve shared with have had my back….(minus my two friends who jumped ship recently).

When I think about suicide, I find myself rationalizing that I share the same fate as my uncle. I told myself that over and over. He didn’t survive what my dad did, why would I? He committed suicide, it must be my fate as well. Am I stronger than he is? No way! So why do I think I’d survive when he didn’t? He lived for decades and decades and STILL wound up succumbing to his psychological injuries. My dad will ultimately be responsible for two deaths…and for wrecking who knows how many lives!

…This is what I told myself and this is how I thought. And yesterday when I was thinking about no one believing my uncle, I thought that he must have had it harder. It’s must have been so much more difficult for him because people didn’t believe him. He saw my dad all the time and knew my dad got away with disgusting, evil acts. And HIS OWNMOTHER covered it up. I mean…mine did too. But still…

My fear of not being believed only manifested in one instance and that was with Joe. He had always physically, intellectually, and psychologically intimidated me. Before the rape occurred, he had already been physically violent with both myself and my little dog. So I had already been staying away from him. We were no longer friends because he broke the septum in my nose when he slammed my head against a wall. I had been tapping on something and it had annoyed him. That was the last time I ever talked to him. I was scared and stayed away after that. And months later, the rape occurred. And now…he’s an attorney. Geez…I feel even more intimidated by his occupation. There’s no way I could accuse him without massive fear and anxiety regarding retaliation on his part. I’m almost certain of it. So I see how a fear of not being believed can affect you. I can’t imagine how much that affected my uncle when he tried to confide in people.

I’m trying really, really hard. Things aren’t going well. I’m more deeply depressed than before…but I don’t know if that’s because of the meds or my nice little stay in the hospital that’s giving me a complex. I feel so ashamed of it. My one friend who visited me (and who drove two hours to do so) told me the other day that the hospitalization “doesn’t define you.” I really needed to hear that. I don’t know how she read my thoughts…I’ve been so down on myself for getting hospitalized and feeling like if people find out, they’ll think I’m a looney. It makes me so much more scared to share with anyone. I don’t blame people- I think they’d subconsciously judge me or hold it against me. Anyway, I need to internalize that idea- that this hospitalization doesn’t define me. God does, right?

That’s all I need- another identity crisis.