The Truth Behind the Mask: Why Sexually Abused Victims Don't Speak Out.

Now that I have that last post out of the way, this is what I have been working on for one of my English papers. It's still technically in rough draft form, but I kind of like it this way. Seems a little less formal and more personal. And it's called...

The Truth Behind the Mask: Why Sexually Abused Victims Don't Speak Out.

My friends and I are sitting at a table, laughing and talking like we did every
lunch hour. One friend comes up to the table and sits down, a quizzical expression on her
face.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask.

She replies, “In my last class we had a lecture on the psychological effects that
can occur after being sexually abused or raped, and I just don’t get it.”

“What don’t you understand?”

She gets a little flustered as she answers, “I understand that sexual abuse can be a
fairly harmful thing, but why don’t the victims just go get help at the beginning, when it
starts, instead of waiting for years and then not reporting at all?”

The girl across the table from me pipes in; “It’s because most of them aren’t
being sexually abused, it’s just they are too embarrassed to admit they like it.”

Standing at the end of the table is another friend, and she jumps in the
conversation, “Nah, it’s basically “crying wolf”, which is why so many quote-in-quote
rapes and sexual abuse cases go unreported, because they aren’t real.” Her boyfriend
walks up behind her as she says this and sneaks a kiss on her cheek. She yells, “Rape!”
and the whole table bursts into laughter.

That is, everyone but me.

Because I am a victim of sexual abuse.

It perplexes most people as to why victims don’t report their sexual abuse. They
think it can’t be that hard to go into a police station and say those four words, “I am
being abused.” They understand it’s a sensitive subject, but it’s just not something that
happens that often, and anyone who says they are being abused is just looking for
attention. The truth? Victims don’t report their abuse for many reasons and the most
common one: fear. They fear their abuser. They fear that they won‘t be believed. But
most of all, they fear the truth; the truth that they were abused.

Fear. It is an emotion that can control ones actions. It can be manipulated for any
use. One strong fear victims of sexual abuse feel is fear of their abuser, a tool used by many abusers to keep their victims quiet. If you were in a situation where you were threatened physically and verbally every day with the end of your life or social standing, would you go out telling every one what was going on? Or would that fear for your life and social standing keep you from speaking? It’s why I didn’t speak out.

While I was growing up, I was sexually abused by my best friend for five years. Why so long? Because the verbal and physical abuse and threats on my life and reputation kept me from speaking out. If I fought back, rumors would go around the school about me. These rumors would get worse and worse, going from “I kissed so and so” to “I slept with this person” to “I will do anything for pay.” The circulating gossip kept me from getting a lab partner in my physics class and being left out of group sessions in English. If I told my abuser no, that I didn’t want to today, he would use physical force until I complied. Sometimes it was just a slap across the face, sometimes it was a punch to the jaw. Sometimes it was a baseball bat rammed against my back, and sometimes it was worse. I began to wear long sleeved and heavy clothing to hide the bruises and cuts. If I told my abuser I’m done, I’m leaving, I am never coming back, he would whisper in my ear, “Who will believe you? You, a whining little nobody, against me, one of the most popular guys at school? I know where you live, I know where you sleep, and I know how to get into your house. Your parents would never believe you, not if I tell them how much of a whore you are first. So, who will believe you?”

Fear of the abuser is a very powerful thing.

Another fear that drives victims to stay quiet is they fear they won’t be believed.
Everyone likes being believed. When you tell your best friend how your coffee spilt on
you this morning and it ruined your favorite shirt, you want them to believe you, because
it’s true. A victim wants to tell their story about being sexually abused; they want to be
believed, because it’s true. You ask then why, if these victims really want to tell their
story, don’t they speak out and get help. Like my abuser said to me, “Who will believe
you?”. No one talks about sexual abuse; it’s tabooed, it’s sensitive, it’s a touchy subject.
You normally don’t hear a conversation about it when you are walking down the street.
It’s just not something we talk about openly in our society. Sexual abuse is one of those
things that isn’t real unless it happens to you. It happens on t.v., it happens in another
town, another state, but never here at home.

For example, a few years ago, one of my older sisters got married. She would always say she was appy, tell these stories about how awesome her new life is, a big smile on her face. But we all saw the white elephant in the room, that she wasn’t telling us something. She would have bruises on her arms or her legs and say she tripped down a flight of stairs. Her smile was always fake, and when she thought we weren’t looking she would wipe a tear from her eye. For a long time she never said anything about it, and we never brought it up. When it finally did, there was a lot of damage done to her physically and emotionally. Later she told me that she felt like she couldn’t speak out because she was scared she wouldn’t be believed, that she would be blamed, that our family would judge her and treat her differently. She never believed her ex would be like that because he was totally different when they were dating; he was nice, popular, kind and gentle, especially around friends. She thought that no one would believer her, and who would when he acted like such a nice guy all the time.

Fear of not being believed is a very powerful thing.

One last fear that can overtake anyone is fear of the truth. We see it every day, every where. A popular one we as a society see all the time is in a romantic couple, the boy is cheating on the girl, and the girl knows. She ignores it though and hopes it goes away, because she is too scared to admit it and deal with the aftermath. Victims of sexual abuse feel the same. They live a lie, because facing the truth is much more terrifying than pretending it‘s not there. They become reserved, a shell of the person they could be. Some become work-aholics, absorbed in working their life away. Some become so reserved they become hermits and loners, self enclosed and sad. All victims are acting on life’s stage, burying the pain and shame they feel behind the mask they put on every morning.

I remember that mask. I wore it for years. There is something about having your best friend sexually abusing you that you don’t want to admit. So I ignored it. I had other friends I would spend time with at school, I couldn’t let them know what was really happening. My parents had a picture perfect future for me, I couldn’t let them see how imperfect it was becoming. I always thought about what would happen if I told the truth. Would my friends leave me? Would my parents be angry? What would happen to me at school? So I put my mask on. It always felt like I was covering my eyes; if I couldn’t see it, it wasn’t there. If I couldn’t face it, I knew no one else could. So I kept my mask on, my eyes closed, and my mouth shut. The rest of my life was much easier that way, even when I knew the nightmare wouldn’t stop until I removed the mask.

Fear of admitting the truth can be a very powerful thing.

They weren’t lying when they said fear was power, and fear is a ruler in the life of a survivor of sexual abuse. Half a million victims go without reporting their abuse and getting help every year because of this ruling emotion. So the next time you pass someone down the street, check out at the local grocery store, or wave at your friends, look into their eyes. Can you see behind the mask?

Because the truth can be a very powerful.

Now just think about all that implies. And it relates to not just sexual abuse. But to just about everything in life. Everyone can, and usually does, wear a mask. Why are you wearing yours? 

(Insert Catchy Phrase Here)

I hate how life can feel so down. I hate it when getting up in the morning feels like a chore. I hate bursting into tears for no rhyme or reason. I hate feeling like I have to explode, but when I get to the exploding point, I just don't care anymore. Lately it feels like a chore to care. I just don't want to. Giving up seems like such a relief. I hate feeling like I'm drowning in my own sorrows, and I am tired of trying to swim to the surface.

But what I hate the most is knowing that, somewhere in this ocean of sorrows and fatigue, is a safe boat with the real me on it, and I can't find it.

Caffiene, Sugar, and Prayers: The Cocktail of Everyday Life.

Dr. Pepper and chocolate. Some of my most favorite things in the world. Often put together, often used as coping.

It doesn't work very well.

You may use coffee. Or coke. It may be snickers, or swedish fish. But in the end, it means the same thing.

"I don't want to deal with such-and-such problem, so I'm going to ignore it and drink or eat something I do enjoy and can control."

Yeah, still doesn't work very well. I don't know about you, but it just makes me want more, and doesn't solve anything for me.

"Well, Mana, what does work?"

Prayers.

Prayer seems to have a very calming effect for me. I know that God is listening, and is watching over me. No, I don't pray as often as I should. But when I do, it makes me feel so much better. And I know they get answered. I have been praying that somehow, some way, my husband and I will be able to make rent next month.

My husbands last check from his recent job he lost was just enough to cover it. That is one stress checked off.

Another prayer I say very often is for help to overcome my issues, my fear, my guilt, my shame, everything associated with being a survivor, and support so that I don't have to do it alone.

I was recently able to tell my mom. I think I am finally ready to go to a therapist. I started this blog. It is taking longer than I want it, and I am doing things I wasn't okay with for a very long time. But I now can face it, and finally take care of it.

Prayers do get answered. They do make you feel better. If you have never prayed, I suggest you try it, to whichever diety you believe in, whether it's The Heavenly Father, God, Jesus, Allah, Jehovah, Buddah, whoever.

Just pray.

So take that Dr. Pepper and that choclate bar and feel better for the moment. Then when you are done, kneel down and say a prayer, and start feeling better for life.

"God didn't promise us days without pain, laughter without sorrow,or sun without rain. But he did promise strength for the day, comfort for the tears, and light for the way."

DISCLOSURE: My mother would like it clarified that it was no one in my family that was my abuser or attacker. The ones when I was child I have no idea who he was, the five years of abuse from the age of twelve to seventeen was from a guy I had been friends with at school, and I was raped last December by a guy I knew at SUU.

2 Months and Counting

Today is my husbands and mine two month anniversary. It feels like life is going so fast, but yet is going so slow. Some weeks it feels like 3 months have gone by, and then a month can go by, and it feels like we haven't even had a week.

So far, life as been pretty good. We have had our curve balls, like my husband losing his job, but there is always someone looking out for us. We have options if a job doesn't turn up before next months rent is due. It's amazing what faith can do.

But there has always been something right under the surface. Something there, but unspoken, un-addressed, ignored unless something triggers it to the surface, and then it's pushed down underneath again.

Having ignored and pushed down and buried in the back the issues that comes with sexual abuse and rape, it comes up every once in a while, and it comes hard. My husband will lean in to give me a kiss, but suddenly I'm back in that unsafe place. In front of me isn't my husband, he is my past attacker. He isn't asking for a kiss, he is taking it. And I break down. Anxiety fills my body, fear radiates from me. I will push him away, run away, run to a corner, shrink, and cry. Cry and cry and cry, whispering words I don't even understand. My husband will slowly approach me, speaking to me quietly, reminding me where I am, who he is, what is happening. He will reach his hand out and ask me to take it, tell me it's my choice. He is here. Through my tears I will see the hand, slowly reach out and grab it, and it's like a weight releases me, and I'm back in my apartment with my loving husband.

That is some serious issue.

It's not always a kiss. Sometimes we will be having a tickling fight, sometimes he will say something. Sometimes it doesn't happen for weeks. Sometimes it happens 3 times in two days.

And sometimes it happens on our 2 month anniversary.

My first post.

This is my first ever blog, with my first ever post. Kind of scary. I have heard those stories of blogs getting tons of followers, or one blogger saved someones life or something. I don't expect my blog to be amazing. I don't expect anyone to read it, to listen to my stories. But it adds some sort of power to me. Something I can control in a world that is unpredictable. Writing seems to have a lot of power for most people. So, I am trying it out. Showing my life as a survivor. Because that is what I am. I have survived, I am starting to overcome and be a hero in my own story of abuse. All it takes is one day at a time. One hour at a time, one minute at a time. And eventually, it'll be easy. I hope my stories of every day triumphs and defeats can help someone reading along, to know they can survive too.