...Behind the Madness.
**This post has some slightly mature content in it**
Most of you have probably realized that I have been on a slight hiatus for quite some time now. It's not that I haven't been thinking about the blog--I have been. I've actually done more research for this blog than for any other class. So why the hiatus?
Domestic abuse education and awareness is something I'm interested in, so it's not that. The problem is that I chose something so close to home, that this project ended up allowing a lot of my past to catch up with me. Initially, I chose domestic abuse to be the subject of this blog because I felt that there wasn't enough awareness for it. Now... it's like a sort of "face-your-fears" kind of thing.
I'm sure everyone has read a personal account from an abuse survivor; I don't know how many of you have read one from someone you know, though. Which really brings up the question of: how much do you really know about the people you see a couple times a week or more? Have you ever wondered why they are the way they are (Trust me, there's always a reason)? I know I have, and I'm quite sure a lot of people have probably wondered what the hell my problem is that I seem like such a bitch half the time.
So, in explanation for my hiatus and for my sometimes odd behavior, here's my story:
My name is Chrisleigh. I am 18 (soon to be 19) years of age. When I was 11, I was physically, sexually and emotionally abused by my cousin who was in his mid twenties. It was Summer time when he came to visit us, and I was estatic to meet him for the first time. After about a week of staying with us, he began to always be where I was. Half a week after that, he molested me. Days after that, he raped me. It didn't stop until he'd left.
I'm sure you're all asking "Well, why didn't you tell someone?" It's difficult to understand why rape victims don't speak up. In my case, I had a few reasons for keeping quiet.
First of all, my mother and father raised me in a Christian home. I went to a Christian school where I was taught that sex before marriage was a terrible sin, and those that partake in sexual activity before marriage were whores. I can even remember my mother making comments at the dinner table about girls my older sister had grown up with that weren't married and were having sex. "Slutty," she'd say, "so slutty." Keeping my mouth shut also became a way for me to make sure my mother never said the word "slut" and thought of me.
Then there were the threats and mind games from my cousin. Things like "if you tell anyone, I'll kill you" or "if you tell, I'll kill your mommy and daddy" or "no one will believe you" or "if you struggle, I'll do the same thing to your sister that I did to you." If he didn't threaten me, I knew he'd beat me--but never anywhere anyone would notice. He'd bite, scratch, punch., pinch or hit me with things on my back, my shoulders, my stomach, my thighs or the back of my neck.
Emotionally, he screwed me up pretty badly. To this day, I don't think I've fully recovered. I can remember him whispering in my ear that I was a whore or that no one loved me but him. I remember him pleading with me to understand that "this is what love is." Forgetting his proclamation of love in a few days, he'd draw blood from my barely developed breasts with his teeth and then make sure I understood that I was ugly. These memories are burned in my mind. If I listen close enough, I can still hear him whispering in my ear. If I close my eyes long enough, I can still feel the physical pain of him bruising my body inside and out.
But I was only 11--I couldn't dicern between what the reality of my options were and what he was telling me.
A month or so after he left, I began to self injury. If you've seen me, you've probably seen the etch-a-sketchs I have for arms and legs. Upon entering high school, I began to buy pills from the apartments located around the school and drink anything with alcohol content--anything to make me not feel like me. The amusing thing is, I'm a control freak. Naturally, I don't like getting drunk or high. At that time, though, I honestly can say I didn't get a damn. I just wanted to feel, think and remember nothing. The drugs and alcohol made me feel like a normal kid with nothing to worry about. When I was sober, all I felt was pain.
Since then I have been physically, emotionally and sexually abused quite a few more times. You'd probably think that after the first time, I'd know what kind of people to avoid. Unfortunately, it's not that simple. Most of the times I was abused it was purely being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A few of the other times... it was all about not caring what happened to me anymore.
It's taken me a long time to accept that I can't do anything about the cards I was dealt throughout my life thusfar. I'm doing a lot better than I was even a year ago. I'm still guarded, I'm still angry and I still hate myself, but nowhere near the degree I used to. No, I'm not a fan of men, and, yes, I do tend to question everyone's motives. My self-esteem still sucks, and, since my parents found out about the rapes about 2 years ago, I'm still dealing with the tension and resentment between myself and them. I still wish I was a virgin, at the least that I hadn't lost my virginity the way I did. It's hard to let a lot of the feelings I feel go because most of them began to manifest when I was 11. I only just started dealing with accepting the reality of my past about a year ago. You can only imagine the seven year mess I have to sort out.
Unfortunately, abuse is not as uncommon as most people would like it to be. I can almost guaruntee that there is probably at least one person (male or female) in each of your classes that has been abused in some way at some point in their lives, and you probably would never have guessed it because, honestly, victims and survivors of abuse are just like the rest of the world-- just maybe a littler quieter, a little angrier, a little more proper, a little more skittish or a little bitchier.
Please, don't pretend like abuse is only something that happens in a far away land to far away people with far away problems. When it comes down to it, we sit beside you in your lab class, we walk with you to lunch, we smile at you in the hallways, we stand shoulder to shoulder with you on battlefields, we teach your classes, we work at your favorite store, we sing your favorite song, and we all hope you won't go through what we did.
