He Was Right, No One Loves Me: Part One (Sensitive Material)

During the span of my abuse, before I lost hope, I made many attempts to get the attention of those around me. I was unable to open my mouth because HE had warped my view of rape to include me in the blame, but I knew somehow, I wanted it to stop.

Yesterday, a friend of mine asked how it did stop, and when. I had to explain to her that I hadn't openly discussed what was happening to me, but rather, a wise woman paid very close attention to me. I decided to write about it in my journal last night:

"Today, I thought about how the abuse was discovered. How all it took was one person, to see that my child eyes were as tired as an elderly woman's. She saw my fear, my pain, my exhaustion with life. She questioned my lack of excitement while walking alongside her. My statements were vague, yet she read between the lines."

I owe this woman my life. Continuing:

"She saw all the signs without me going out of my way as I had before with other people. How is it that one person can almost read my mind, while my cries to others fell on deaf ears?"

This is an interesting thought, and one that continues to perpetuate my frustration. When I discussed this woman with my friend and how she saw what no one else could, without even trying, and how she reported her worries, my friend responded, "Well, good for her!"

I frankly don't understand, I didn't say, "Hey there is this guy who is holding me down and forcing himself on me on a regular basis." All she needed to validate her concern was to look at me. It was if she could reach past my shell and see that I was sitting in a dark pool of tears, losing my will to fight. So yes, good for her, because she took that brave step, and she would have rather been wrong, than have me suffer any longer.

But...looking to that moment, when my world started spinning, and confusion was thick, I felt the habitual indignation settle into my heart. Continuing from my journal entry:

"Not that it mattered. As the plot began to unfold, my security was swept from underneath me. Questions...so many questions...ones I couldn't answer for fear of being in trouble. I felt dirty, wrong...and he told me my family would hate me. "Be a good girl, Dana. Hold your tongue. No one loves you." He was right."

These words he spoke, continued to ring between my ears, kept me silenced, and slowly destroyed my sense of self.

It would have been an easier battle to fight growing up if his words hadn't been justified through a continued sense of bewilderment from those around me. Every damn time I reached out, or formed a relationship, he was there to remind me that it was pointless. "They will ignore you, fail you."

It irritates the hell out of me that his point was consistently proven. I was failed, on so many levels. Eighteen-years later, I can finally say that without chagrin. Granted, I teeter back and forth between vocalizing it to those who need to hear it, because of my "black and white" view on relationships.

Every connection I have made for nearly two decades, has been altered by the indoctrination of HIS belief system. Every friendship, every lover, ever coworker...has somehow experienced my fear of abandonment. When that fear was met with legitimacy, my earth was shattered. Thus the cycle of self-hatred continued.

This is an intro to the relationship failures in my life, because as a victim of rape, it is important to share how deep the roots of any abuse can expand. Also, I need to enlighten the loved ones surrounding rape victims on how NOT to treat them. It is with no obvious realization, the ones closest to us (victims of abuse) that may have failed us, continued to invalidate our horror, and can ultimately impede on our journey of healing and justice.