I’m going to post this blog entry without proofreading and editing it like I usually would because I feel like if I don’t post it now, I’ll lose my nerve. Yep.
Just a warning, this is going to be a post about rape. This is a hard topic to write about and is going to reveal some messed up shit from my head that I’ve always been too embarrassed to write about. To cut to the point, I’ve never been raped but for several years of my teenage life, from about 15 to 20 years old, I was convinced that I would be.
(Um, I’d just like to say something at this juncture… I am not trying to minimise what’s happened to actual victims of rape. These people have been through far worse than I have, obviously. I simply want to process my own experiences, I know they’ve mostly been in my fucked up head but I feel like I’ve never really dealt with them before and, well, isn’t this what the internet is for?)
No, rape wasn’t a looming threat for most of the time, though when I was 15 I did have an online “friend” who I met in real life threatening me in ways that were really pretty scary for me at the time. I also learned that some of my friends had been raped. Um, one friend by another friend and… I had set them up with each other. I thought they’d make a cute couple. I had no idea he would do such a thing and I felt absolutely fucking sick to my stomach. And responsible. Later, I learned about other male friends who had raped women. I started losing my trust in men.
It kind of fucked with my head a whole lot. I made art about it (including a big painting “The Victim is Punished” which is incredibly graphic and naively done but has a whole lot of my raw, messy teenage emotions about the subject in it – you can see it here but don’t say I didn’t warn you I guess?) and when women saw the art, more and more of them came out to me about their horrible experiences. They opened up to me and told me all about what happened to them. People have always opened up to me about stuff. I’m a good listener, empathetic (too empathetic, I think) and they tell me all the details. I also have an incredibly visual imagination, when people speak to me, I get images of what they are saying in my head. That was a lot to take in.
So anyway, obviously I was pretty messed up as a teenager. Unaddressed mental health issues and whatnot. I had some pretty bad issues going on in my head anyway and here I was, getting this horrific insight into rape that I guess I didn’t know how to process it and had no one to talk to about it. I even learned about the past lives of various family members. And I learned the statistics. And I just didn’t know how to deal.
And… yeah. I just became convinced I would be raped someday. It felt inevitable. Statistically likely. It got to the point where whenever I heard any discussions on rape, I got sort of crazy and hysterical. To be honest, sometimes still when rape is discussed, I still get this helpless, sick feeling, I get shaky and break into tears. Or I get angry and crazy. Gah.
Fuck. This is really hard to write about. First time I’ve ever cried while blogging. I feel like an idiot saying all this and I’m so worried that people will think I’m pathetic but… wow. I don’t know. I’m usually pretty good at analysing my emotions and all that but this just feels really messy and embarrassing. Ack. I really don’t want to come across as melodramatic and crazy but probably will. I know victims of rape have had experiences worse than I can even understand. It’s why I’ve never talked about this before because I feel like an absolute fucking idiot.
Still, I feel like rape has affected my life too so I guess it’s valid for me to talk about? I don’t know. Bleh.
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