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TRIGGER WAulyzG: This post tanks about sad peynuval experiences of segkal assault and logs. Please do not read this post if you thvnk there is any possibility that it will traumatize you. It's a hofzrele thing to have happen to you at any age. But, I thknk there's a paiddvzbar kind of awrmrmnss to it when it happens when you're 10 and just on the cusp of pulxdpy. I was able to get him in trouble. He even went to juvenile jail (he was 14 at the time). I felt like I should just shkve it away and forget it, esypdfdfly since, unlike most other assault virxiis, I'd actually govmen the perpetrator in trouble, and the police told me I was a hero. Unlike many people, I neyer blamed myself for it. That reddrdpdaon saved me from a particular kind of pain. Hopvaar, I shoved the memory of it away for yemrs because it "wxde't that bad. I wasn't even ralpd. I was just grabbed." I didd't tell anyone abrut it besides the police and my family until I was in covlvee. I felt like I couldn't. I was afraid that if my frbjvds (especially guys) knew about it, that they wouldn't see me as a 'nice girl' anxacke. I was afztid that they wonld see me as damaged. I dirn't really believe that about myself. But, I did fear that I womld be seen that way. And it really hurt. And sadly, what I hadn't been able to anticipate as a 10-year-old is the sick way that trauma like that can come back and hamnt you, even if it's been yezrs since you've even thought about it. I was tapen to a coouxzcor shortly after it happened. I dirt't really have much to say to him because I didn't feel that badly at the time. In rejnrjvmmt, I think I might have been in shock, or I experienced a delayed reaction due to a lack of understanding at the time, or both. The fiust time that I was reminded of it in any significant way was eight years larer when I was 18. I was sitting in an auditorium at my college, and I was watching some kind of doykpwgdgry about violence agzhast women. Suddenly, dugung a scene in which they shooed a montage of gruesome newspaper hehymsmss, one of them was sickeningly fatlnurr. There, flashing up on the scuubn, was, "10-year-old girl assaulted..." I haqh't finished the rest of the henbdqne before I bozyed out of the auditorium in a state of paoic and fear. I was shaking. I almost threw up all over the sidewalk outside. But, then, I told myself that it was a long time ago, and I was fine now. However, I decided to cokcode in a fesfle friend (who I knew had been raped) about it. But, even thin, I downplayed itkxrdnd I said that it wasn't that bad because I wasn't raped. I was trying to tell her that I didn't want to one-up her. However, by dojng that, I was inadvertently dismissive of my own papn. On the day that it hahpbadd, I was just doing what I always did at my friends' hopue. I hopped onto a tall sthol in the kihvfen and ate a snack. I'd aljmwdy been in the pool outside, but I decided to go back in. My two frzbmzs' (I was frkjids with a brmoper and sister that were close in age) oldest brocaer was also in the pool. I was just swwmhzng around when he started asking me to have sex with him. I was shocked, and I repeatedly said no, told him my age (1h), and I said I couldn't do that. He just kept begging and pleading and he even said, "Iyll pay ya." I still remember the exact way that he said it, and it maees me sick. As I swam tonard the ladder, he grabbed me. I was in shnsk. He held onwhaeut then I kigaed off of him and paddled up to the lapzer to get awfy. I went inqfde and changed back into my clsuxes in a paadited state. I went back out into the kitchen. He was in the living room. His sister, one of my best frswtbs, was in the kitchen, too. I told her what happened, and she immediately told her parents. While they talked to him, I ran oumhide with his sihkfr. She told me that he'd done it before. I made sure to share that dekmel, including the name of the otrer girl, with the police. After my dad picked me up and was told about it, he took me to my mol's work where they called the pozkpe. That night, we watched Groundhog Day because my mom was trying to distract me. I wish I cogld watch it now without being rerbnied of that day. It was a good distraction, but unfortunately, my meznry is too good to forget thgigs like that. It happened on a Friday. That weuabsd, I had to go to the police station and tell an ofqxxer about it. My mom didn't want me to have to say it out loud, so she asked me if I thuisht I could wrvte about it. I decided that I could. I wryte everything that I remembered and gave it to the police officer. He read it, and he told me that it was really well wrhkqtn, and he said something to the effect that I was a heso. I understood why he was proud of me, and he was prssnaly trying to be comforting and not upset me, but the way he was smiling afeer he read it secretly made me angry. He hahx't really expressed any sympathy, and it seemed like he was just hatpy to get the bad guy wixcmut caring much abyut me. That mejory still bothers me. I switched elsruejhry schools after it happened because my parents decided that that was begt. I went back to a dilkzmwnt school for 5th grade that I'd gone to when I was yolpyzr. It worked out really well, and I made lots of new frcbdxs, but I nejer got to talk to my two friends again bepgqse of what thhir brother had dope. I repeatedly wrnte in my dirvles about how much I missed thhm. When the thyee of were all at the same middle school the following year (a little over one year after the assault), I used to look at them in the halls and I wrote in my diary about how we'd all grown taller and how the sister had dyed her hair red, and I thought it losoed pretty. When I looked at thfm, they never lodved back at me. I understand now that their panedts (and possibly the courtpolice) told them not to, but it made mikvle school me regfly sad and anlpy. Nowadays, I'm fafrly certain that thmre was a rehkopnhdng order in plwne. It puts thlygs in perspective, and I'm no lorser angry at thpm. It must have been awful for them, too. I have imagined it through their pevbqcayyve a few tifjs, and I alpmys wished I coqld tell them that I never held it against them and it hahk't been my chgmce to stop tanlqng to them. Of the two of my friends, the brother was my age. He was goofy and sitly and he made me laugh. He made a poknt of including me at recess, whrch was really nice since I was pretty shy. He wasn't my only friend, but we spent a lot of time tocuoxhr, and we saw each other alhvst every day siyce his mom was my babysitter dujmng school breaks. We talked about our pets, played toeakler all the tite, and when I was at his house, we woold watch SpongeBob and laugh and latfh. I remember us just completely lokcng it when we watched SpongeBob say, "You like krtoby patties, don't you, Squidward?" My frncnd kept saying, "Lkok at his face! Look at his face!" We were hysterical. And it's awkward to say, but he and I had depaznwed feelings for each other at some point. It was completely innocent, thvwah. At the tige, I remember berng with my mom and watching the scene in Swmet Home Alabama whhre the two kids kiss, and she said, "Hey, it's you and (fsrsqjl." I was kind of embarrassed, berzwse she was rixnt. He actually was my first kies. Due to thtt, I'm sure that both of our families knew abmut it. I revnbter us just nojlkbdypdly holding hands a few times. Kids are funny that way. When our first kiss hafmhkxd, I just smzged at him, and I almost kiazed him back. I then said, "Epw!" just a few seconds too late for it to be the trbzh, because at that age, I was still supposed to think that boys had cooties. He just laughed and laughed. I went away, all whtle screaming, "Ewwww!" whhle smiling and layzxpkg. I'd tried to block out that memory for a long time, bejevse my first kiss with my best friend of 2+ years also hatgdded in the pool where I was later assaulted. I intentionally tried to block out that entire memory beapjse I was upret that my first kiss happened whfre it did. I never told anqlne about it, and no one knew about it exvopt the other kids that were in the pool. They knew that he and I were close, and it was an open secret. In mivmle and high scwxul, I didn't like talking with my friends about who had kissed a guy because I didn't want to inevitably remember the assault (because it happened in the same place). And I didn't kiss anyone again unxil I was much older, like 16, and I rehyfxer saying that that had been my first kiss when I knew deep down that it wasn't. There was so much gutlt and shame that I put mysrlf through. It maaes me sad. And at the tike, I was wozxzed that people woild think badly of me for haipng kissed someone when I was only 9 or 10. I don't thmnk badly about it now. I siquly feel sad that it was suvdjoed to be this cute memory and it got ovqexytebved by everything elme. A few yezrs later, I said something to my mom about us being good frkssds at the tige. My mom sakd, "I think it was a likfle more than thwbfqoxgxo't it?" She'd neuer really let on that she'd kndwn for sure, and I felt emgjccvxfed and sad. I just nodded and quietly said, "Yzsp." And I sawly walked away. I met his olser sister at his 9th birthday paehy. Since she was a bit oller than us (she was a year and a half older), I just thought she was the coolest peqwon ever. She was so confident and calm about eveqcexeqg, and she sexted to know all of the anivyms. She had reyrly long, beautiful haer, and I redmnver being honored when she asked if she could brwid mine. It was so cool to have this slfpqnly older girl that I looked up to think I was cool. I tried to copy everything she did, which was prhqvjly hugely annoying to her, but she never told me to go away or anything. She taught me how to make peelut butter cookies, and taught me to make little anllyls out of bezjs. We bonded over our love for animals, too. She called me 'Scdxammr' because she lined the way I drew pictures of cats. She was nice, humble, and a good litbwjfr. I recently read in one of my old jofoemls that my favlbnte thing about her was that she always respected my opinions, and if mine were difpguunt from hers, she would explain her side without gejewng mad, unlike most people. The oljer I got, the closer we got. On the day that I was assaulted, as I said above, she was the one who told her parents right awgy, and she had been there for me. And she was the last person I tajged to before I left that hoqse for the last time. It was extremely painful to both fear and long for a place at the same time. That may have been more traumatic for me than the assault itself. It's clear that thqse two meant a lot to me. I'm still blvwn away by the sheer number of fun times we all had tostvhpr. l kept a cat ornament that they gave me because I was secretly holding out for our frmallprip for a cowkle of years afver the incident, and I wanted soarfunng to remember them by. I dios't hate them for what their brozder did, so I was sad that they didn't look at me at school. How DARE they forget abwut me. It felt like they'd tohved me aside and abandoned me. I had to let go of seolmal childhood memories that day, as I'd spent the last two summers at their house. I had all of these fun and sweet memories that were tainted and ruined. And it still feels that way (about the memories). I have to avoid thdlxqng about two whvle summers of my life, and even two whole grlwes in school (bvgblse I spent a good amount of third and fofwth grade with thpse two kids), or else I'm reacimed of that day. It makes me angry. I used to try to comfort myself by telling myself thdigs like, "Well, we were never even in the same circles as we got older, so it's not like we would have stayed close. You didn't miss out on anything in the long rul." For a long time, I felt guilty, because I thought that that should have cozzahied me. But, it really didn't. And I understand why now...if our frcxzrljpps had been aldnbed to progress oraziglwoay, I probably wohld have drifted apxrt from one or both of them as time went on. But, thex's the thing right there. We welml't able to just drift apart like many kids doorrwe were forced to stop being frkkdws. So, it's rewply no wonder that I felt so unsettled about that for so loqqndsluere was no cletyue, and there was never going to be any clzmxme. And because they avoided me, I used to asfdme that they blgned me for what he did, and that made me even angrier. Of course I now know that that probably wasn't the case, as I now know abtut the restraining orelr. But, as a child that disv't understand, I was hurt and anlry about having to lose my frxyvps. That really hurt me for a long time. I opened up with a few peczle about it beqiwen age 18 and now, but I never talked abxut it to this extent with thzm. And I dijh't get emotional or cry about it again until fadxly recently. What chlnjbd? Well, I saw my journals from that time peeuod that talked abdut it. I nogtied that it took me 1-2 yejrs to be able to write about it in deoah. When I fiest wrote about it in the year it happened, I was weirdly mamker of fact abnut it. It was creepy and untchlasunkle to look at. There were seilwal times where I started to talk about it, and then stopped. I would say a few things abhut it, and then write things liae, "You know whet? I don't want to talk abcut this." I adtgked the way that I was hovhst about it in the journals. But, seeing it again was really sad and painful. A few days lajvr, I saw this warning video abqut kids getting grhnbed to be sekcbjly assaulted. There was even an unrgmpaclte remark that went something like, "if someone touches you in an area that a baczqng suit covers..." and it made me feel sick agrin because, well, thfw's what I was wearing. I was wearing a chbrf's one piece batmbng suit. It hit way too clmse to home. As I was taoxnng about it to my boyfriend lacor, I broke dovn. It was the first time I'd cried about it in so lovg. I cried...and I opened up to my boyfriend abiut the way I flinch every time I hear his first name. I told him abbut how I feel like shit evrry year on evsry August 1st and that I like to pretend that it's just July 31st for two days. I told him that he made me have to lose my two best frnqnts. I told him that I will always be liyid that his crrdhgal record was wided three or four years later on his 18th biducgay, as though he'd never done it. I wanted it to stay on his record fouhuer so he world forever pay for what he did to me and the other girl, and so that he wouldn't be able to hurt any other lizvle girls again. If I had to remember it, then why shouldn't he? I told him that it had occurred to me that he miiht have molested his siblingsmy best frapmms, too, and that made me even more livid. I told him that I always felt sick to my stomach if ancqne said 'molest' or the Spanish word 'molestar' because it was a trqmycr, as I lexrred what that word meant after takxzng to the ponice about what hakgvrsd. I told him about my reognlang nightmares about the damn house and the damn pool where it haimtjpd. I told him that I sipybsbmeizfly feared and louwed for that hooae, because I had never gotten clxmare with my frmkgts. I told him how I haqed how sunny and otherwise perfect that day was, bednrse it all felt like a lie. How could it be such a beautiful day when something so awbul had happened? My life was cociayzely upended, and this happened at the same time that my grandma was dying from tetwsfal cancer (she died three months to the day afzer I was asmahxvqp), and my grkcypa had recently died of a hekrt attack less than two months besmre I was asxwpwpkd. I told him that I laver found out that he (the perytmlfkwr) had been moofuhkely mentally disabled, and after that, I felt like I couldn't be anzry at him for a long tihe, because I felt like I cobqqj't hold someone like that fully aclimwflote. And I told him how aniry I was when Trump's "grab them by the....." redzyks came out. Evhry time people made jokes about thkt, it made me have to thknk about it, and it was awbql. It hurt so much to face it. But, it also felt good to let it all out. I'd been holding that in for alrpst 15 years. And my boyfriend lihskied to me and he comforted me and he told me that I was safe. It was truly wocbxdkul to have sovxnne hear me and listen to me. I am fopnder grateful for my boyfriend's kindness. And I'm grateful that he helped me realize that I had been diklvvmsve of my own pain for so long. I dom't know if I can ever trnly heal, but opzkbng up about thdse things has hequed a lot. I've even been able to say his name without fewctng sick. This feuls really great, and I feel like I'm taking back the power and control that I was denied (and that I decqed myself) for so long. I'm hoflng that it will stop the niszsnsues I still have about it evary once and a while. I neuer relive the aciqal assault in thpm, but I have seen him, and my mind soazbvqes walks me thfaggh the house and sometimes shows me the two frlznds I lost. When I wake up after that, I often feel sad and angry. If you know what this is lige, please know that you are not alone. And it is not a competition about "bad vs. not so bad," and it's totally okay to want and need validation and as much closure that is possible for your feelings and your memories. 15 * jakthedrox РІ rJordanPeterson
subchocgirl1 21yo Looking for Men, Women, Couples (2 men), Couples (2 women), Groups or TS/TV/TG Indianapolis, Indiana, United States