A Secret, Silent Shame
Back in May and June, I wrote a series of posts on abuse. They covered everything from child abuse, through spousal abuse. Then I stopped … but it wasn’t because I was out of things to say. It was because I really didn’t have the courage to write the final nightmare tucked away in the nether regions of my already too sordid list.
On Wednesday night (August 23,) I got one of those emails that leaves you feeling warm all over, and makes all the effort you’ve put into blogging worthwhile. It came from a blogger I’d only recently met – “Naked Tomato” over at Medical Pathetical. Early in our exchange of emails, I re-monikered “Naked Tomato” … she became “THE Naked Tomato,” TNT for short. If you go over and read her archives, you’ll understand that this not only fits, it’s a foregone conclusion! Henceforth, I’ll refer to her as TNT. Here’s the email she sent me, in part:
I’m slowly but surely making my way through the archives, and in my browsing I came upon a post entitled “A Time to Heal” (I believe it was dated May 2006) and a few more on the subject of sexual abuse. I was very touched by these posts as I have survived rape and sexual assault, albeit as an adult. I just wanted to send you a note to thank you for bringing such an important and “unspeakable” subject up in such a candid, human, non-threatening way. If more people were exposed to articles like the ones you’ve written, we could make such strides in breaking the taboo.
When someone sends me that sort of compliment, I always feel as if I really don’t deserve to hear it, because anyone can do the same thing … all it takes is the decision to do so. After all, there’s no virtue in having a reason to be able to post such unpleasant personal experiences. I couldn’t help but wonder why she had sent it to me as an email, rather than as a comment … I wondered if this is what I’d been waiting for to go ahead and post the next part of my “abuse” series …
I replied:
Regarding “A Time To Heal” … I have at least one more post along those lines coming … and the subject will be rape, as an adult. I’m still trying to get up the courage … it may take a minute, since I haven’t been upfront with my adult children about it all. It needs to be written though – perhaps as much for others, as for myself. The way I see it is if I can get people speaking about it, it pulls the teeth right out the jowls of shame. Without shame – there’s room for healing.
[...]
Seriously though, I’m not doing anything anyone with a blog can’t do … if you are willing to blog with me on this one, let me know. Perhaps we could give each other courage.
It took almost no time at all for her reply to find its way into my inbox:
And I will absolutely blog with you on this subject. In fact, I’d be honored to. I agree, it’s going to be tough, but these are stories that need to be told if society is to be stripped of our “blame and silence the victim” mentality. I think blogging together and shooting some courage at each other is a brilliant idea :o)
What followed were plans on how to approach the task, how we would help each other along by sharing the posts in advance. There was a bit of panic on TNT’s part when I mentioned submitting the finished products to Grand Rounds … she was afraid that her writing wasn’t up to par with the other medical bloggers … and get this: she was afraid to be seen as a whiner! Every time I think of her saying that, it makes me want to cry. She’s not only a wonderful writer – with humor that touches you deep down in all of the right goosey places, but her story is absolutely riveting. My own experience pales to nothing by comparison. This little lady has the fortitude of an entire army, and the more I know her, the deeper my respect runs.
Imagining ourselves as two little girls standing on the dock of an ice cold lake … we held hands, gave each other courage … and jumped in unison.
Here’s the link her post: One in Three
Even so, it took me a while to get started. For my part, I spent a bit of time warming to my subject by writing to my dear friend, Dr. Engel. He gave me the affirmation I needed to even set my foot on the path … and so … here it is – the story I never told anyone before this past week. Not my husband, not my kids … not my closest confidants. I never even allowed myself to think about it before the last few months, when I was writing the other abuse posts. I knew there was one more to write … one I had shoved out of my mind for 28 years …
I’d been away from my abusive husband long enough to no longer worry about his finding me, and the son I’d been five months pregnant for when I left him was having his first birthday in just a few days. I was living in a small apartment in Winthrop Village, Maine, and had been for the better part of a year … with no car, no adult companionship. I found that I was beginning to scare myself … I knew that I couldn’t be alone like that for much longer. A simple knock on the door would bring my heart to my throat … people would visit and I didn’t know how to act anymore — I had nothing to say to them. I remember wondering if I were losing my mind. Entire weeks would pass without seeing a soul other than my two babies … and I spent a great deal of time snowed in, unable to step outside at all. My parents would drive up every few weeks to take me grocery shopping. They were the only people I saw.
When they invited me to come home for my baby’s first birthday, I leapt at the chance. Although his birthday was on a Monday, we would celebrate it on Sunday … I would spend Saturday night there, and return to Winthrop on Sunday night.
And so, on September 26, 1978, I found myself in a unique position. It was a Saturday, I had access to a car … and my children were asleep in my parents’ home. I had built in babysitters – for the first time ever. Filled with an excitement that I almost couldn’t contain — and also fear, because I’d begun to feel as if I no longer belonged in public anymore — I went to a club for a drink. Yes, I know I could perhaps have made a better choice, but I was just desperate to be with other people. There would be music, laughter … people smiling and talking. Even if no one talked to me, I would bask in the warmth of friendly faces. And if someone did talk to me, I could spend a few hours remembering what it’s like to be in the company of other people again …
I found myself an out of the way spot – at a small round table near the wall by the exit. It was a lot quieter in there than I had hoped. I ordered a drink, and tried to not be too obvious about studying the people scattered across the lounge. Mostly young couples … very few singles. It didn’t matter. It just felt good to be there.
To my surprise, it took very little time for a fellow I hadn’t seen to come out of the shadows and startle me, asking if he could join me at my table. He was an ordinary looking man, seemed mild mannered enough, soft spoken … he asked if he could buy me a drink. I took a long final pull on my straw, and smiled in agreement. As we waited for the waitress to bring the drinks, I began to panic, because I didn’t know what to say – so far I’d done nothing but stare at him. I shouldn’t have worried — the fellow began to fill the void with a monologue …
He was waiting for his trial date. My heart sank. He had murdered his wife’s lover. My heart sank even further. I don’t remember the waitress coming back, I don’t remember if I had my drink or not … I just remember trying to find a way to leave without making him angry. He talked endlessly … I heard all of the details … how he had gone to get his gun, the look on his wife’s face when she saw her lover dead beside her on the bed … how close he had come to killing her too … what he was going to do to himself if they sent him to prison …
After a while he wound down, and I found the courage to excuse myself. To my relief – he never batted an eye. I nearly ran from the club – relieved to make my escape. What I didn’t realize was that I had perhaps been safer in the club having a drink with an avowed killer than I was about to be … outside of the club.
As I made my way out of the door into the night chill, my relief began to be replaced by a sharp disappointment. My only chance to get out and relax with people, and I had to end up with a murderer! Something laying on the ground just outside of the doors caught my attention, and snapped me out of my morose reverie. It looked like a rolled up piece of paper … with a telltale bulge in the middle that identified it as a homerolled marijuana joint … interesting! I stopped and picked it up … examined it … sniffed it carefully — there was no mistaking that odor. It was definitely a joint.
A little aside at this time … for those of you who don’t know me, it’s no secret that I was a hippy in the early 70’s. I’m saving the scoop on that for a different post … in which I intend to hand you all, in graphic detail, my experiences with drugs – both personal, and where others were concerned. There are a lot of lessons to be gleaned from my youthful stupidity, and I don’t intend to waste them, although it will probably alter how many of you see me. That part of my life was over by the time I got pregnant for my first baby, and what little nostalgia remained for my old life style died on the night that I’m sharing with you now, as you will see.
For the second time that night, I was startled as someone came out of the shadows and spoke to me.
“I think that’s mine. I must have dropped it when I was leaving the club.”
He was tall, handsome … older. Clean cut, dark haired, shaved … well dressed. For a second I wondered why he’d come out of the bushes instead of from the path, but brought myself back to moment, and I reluctantly handed the joint to him. He didn’t say anything for a few moments … as he thoughtfully rolled the joint between his fingers as if he was trying to work the lump in the middle out of it.
“Look, if you want, I’ll share it with you. But not out here. Let’s go up to my room.”
I tried to not look too eager, but I have a feeling that I wasn’t very successful. I willingly followed him up to his room. This sort of thing wasn’t so unusual among those in the drug culture. Smoking “pot” was a social thing … you engaged in it with your friends. If you ran into strangers who smoked, there was an immediate bond. It wasn’t unheard of to be invited into someone’s private domain to take a few hits from a joint … someplace safe and out of the way where the smell would be somewhat contained.
He waved me in ahead of him, and I momentarily felt cold in the pit of my stomach as I entered his room. I turned around and watched him come in, and quietly close the door – leaving it unlocked. Good sign. I began to relax. His room had two double beds. Very typical looking hotel room – even for today. He walked over to the window, pulled the curtains closed, and stuck the joint between his lips and lit it. He handed it over to me.
I took a huge drag. It had been over a year … well over a year. No cigarettes … no pot … and this toke went down like a cat being dragged backwards by it’s tail – claws out – hissing and spitting. It was really, really harsh. I didn’t notice any strange flavors … or odors … but weed is so strong smelling and tasting that it can easily mask any additives. I tried to catch my breath … I couldn’t … I just kept coughing. He took the joint from me, and without saying a word, he pointed at the foot of the bed which was closest to the window … I gratefully sat down … gasping for air.
He took a toke – or appeared to – and handed the joint back to me. I remember looking at him like “You’ve got to be kidding!” … and he briefly mentioned that the first drag was rough, but that the next ones were much smoother. I noted that he wasn’t coughing – at all, but then again, I’d had a rather long hiatus from any and all smoke …
Okay … I took another drag, cautiously, inhaling as deeply as possible from past habit. As dear as the stuff was, you learned not to waste it. Still horribly harsh. I shook my head, and felt tears begin to burn their way down my cheeks as I fought another coughing spasm. That was when it hit me … at first, just a hint of nausea, which swelled quickly. This in itself was not new to me, and I still hadn’t begun to panic. I can’t take anything that depresses the central nervous system without having that sort of problem … no pain medications, no anesthesia, no tranquilizers … nothing. It’s a real pain (no pun intended) because I also can’t take NSAIDs because of the kidney failure. Although I had experienced that sort of thing with really strong marijuana in the past, it wasn’t normally strong enough to bother me like that; it also tended to have the opposite effect, by getting rid of nausea and actually giving me a case of the munchies. This time … I realized I was into something stronger than what I was used to, and I’d already had far more than I could deal with … I just hoped I could keep from humiliating myself by barfing before I got outside of the building and out of sight …
I began to apologize, telling him that his joint was a bit strong for me, and that I needed to leave before I embarrassed myself. I tried to stand, and I couldn’t. By this time, I knew that something was seriously wrong. My arms and legs weighed tons … I tried to move them, but nothing happened. In confusion, I realized that instead of standing up, I was laying down … my legs bent at the knees, hanging down at the end of the bed … completely helpless. I was stupid enough, and unsuspecting enough, to feel humiliated at being seen in such a vulnerable position by what I still thought was a fellow who had simply been generous enough to share his joint with me.
Here – time began to do something strange, and all I’m going to be able to give you is impressions rather than clear memories. I felt him touch my face, and turn my head to the side. I realized, to my shame, that I was vomiting all over myself … and now that he’d turned my head, all over his bed. I kept thinking that I needed to pull myself together, and get out of his room. I needed to go home. I couldn’t remember being that sick in a long time.
I would try to move … and nothing happened. Nothing. I couldn’t even turn my own head to look at him when he began to unbutton my blouse. I wanted to tell him not to do that … that I would change and clean up when I got home … and how sorry I was that I’d made a mess in his hotel room … but I couldn’t move. I could see the windows, dappled shadows made by street lamps shining through the trees onto the drapes … and I wondered why I couldn’t move.
He pulled one limp arm out of its sleeve, and then the other. I felt him raise my bra and touch my breasts … and that was the moment that morning dawned on Marblehead: he’s “taking advantage” of me! I had a confused sense that what he was doing was wrong, but that I had done something wrong too. I couldn’t remember what it was, though. He forced his hands underneath my back, unsnapped my bra, and removed it. I think I started to cry … at least, I did on the inside. In my fogged up brain, I knew what he was going to do … and I was helpless to stop him. I couldn’t move … I wasn’t even sure that I could try to move anymore.
The idea crossed my mind that he might kill me when he was done, but it didn’t spark any tangible fear. It was a thought that came, and went, and came again … and went again. He removed my pants … and then my panties … and I wondered if he had also taken off my shoes and socks, because I couldn’t feel my feet, and I didn’t remember him doing it. On some level, I was watching all of this happening – in a rage – but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t react. And if I was raging on some level … I was aware that my conscious emotions were completely flatlined.
He ran his hands all over me, inside and out … gently at first, and then rougher and rougher. After what seemed like an eternity of having his hands prying, pinching, pressing … he positioned me the way he wanted me … and did what I knew he was going to do. I remember thinking that it was never going to end. Rough doesn’t even begin to describe it. I hurt for a long time afterward in places I didn’t even know I had.
I don’t remember him getting done … or getting dressed … or leaving … or how long I lay there, naked, in my vomit, unable to move. Somehow, partway through whatever he was doing, I must have lost consciousness completely.
Afterward, the first thing I noticed was the drapes … the shadows on the drapes, and the smell of vomit … and then fear. Sharp, keen. I didn’t feel or hear him, and I tried to turn my head to see where he was … and realized that I could move again. The sudden movement made the room spin and I felt my stomach clench, and I was sick again, this time on the other side of the bed. I realized that my head felt as if it were being stabbed with hot spikes, and my eyes hurt. All of the other aches and pains asserted themselves as I pushed myself into a sitting position. The worst, at that time, was my head. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to pull myself together.
The room was dark … and I didn’t know if I was alone. I tasted metal in my mouth – I don’t know if it was an aftertaste, or if it was fear. It took me a while to begin to feel assured that there was no one in the room with me … hoping I was right, I slid up the side of the bed, and turned on a lamp – bracing myself in case I’d been wrong. He really was gone.
My first reaction was to run out of the room – and just keep running, but I made myself go into the bathroom and clean up, and put my clothes my on. I wasn’t able to clean all of the vomit from my blouse, and it was wet and cold against my skin when I put it on. I was bleeding pretty freely … and couldn’t find anything in the hotel bath room to protect my clothing with. I took a handful of tissues, hoping it would be enough.
I drove myself home … let myself in … relieved to see that my mother had not waited up, and went to bed. By that time, the sky was lightening up … my babies would be waking soon.
As I lay there, I ran what had happened over in my mind, and determined that I would never be able to tell anyone about it. I imagined myself telling my mother: “Ma … I got raped last night.” No. That wasn’t going to happen.
I spent the next several days fighting nausea, and what eventually became a dull headache that just wouldn’t quit … and a few other problems that I wasn’t about to admit to anyone.
Eventually, I got over my compulsive need to bathe every few hours … long after the aches and pains went away … and the other damages healed over. I turned my back on what had happened – as surely as if it had just been a bad dream. I never acknowledged it … never allowed the memory to come completely to the surface … never looked at it again – until I finished the earlier posts about abuse. I knew … I knew I’d have to face it and deal with it, eventually. But not yet … not now …
Since I’ve stopped shoving the idea away, I’ve had a few realizations. I have a very disconcerting panic problem when dealing with my physicians … I’ve mentioned it in earlier posts. It keeps me from being particularly communicative. Earlier this year, I thought I had figured out where that problem came from … and couldn’t understand why I couldn’t get on top it. I figured that understanding why was a huge part of the battle, and that I should be able to put it behind me once I understood the source. I guess that I only understood part of the source … now I believe I know the rest of the reason. One physician hit the nail right on the head a few years ago when he told me: ” … and you don’t like being in other people’s control.” I guess not. And now, I understand why.
When TNT wrote to me, there was a feeling of certainty – I knew it was time. It’s been far harder to write than I thought it would be, though. I can just imagine how hard it’s been for TNT – she went through an even more horrible experience. When I read what happened to her, I cried. It was easy to cry for what she went through … I just can’t help but wonder why I’ve never cried for what I went through.
You’ve heard of prayer calls? This is a healing call …
Are you hiding a deep secret? Do you have something inside, hidden from view, poisoning your every thought, action?
Yes, this was the most difficult post I’ve ever written … but I expect it to reap the greatest benefit. The healing and release you get from letting the hurt out – and others in to listen, understand, love and help – are directly proportional the difficulty in opening up to begin with. The harder it is to write … the less you want to admit openly what happened … the greater the benefit you’ll reap by doing so.
Only 37% of all rapes are reported …. so the silence is 63% deep! That means that only 1 of every 3 women who are raped say anything.
Did you know: Victims of rape often manifest long-term symptoms of chronic headaches, fatigue, sleep disturbance, recurrent nausea, decreased appetite, eating disorders, menstrual pain, sexual dysfunction, and suicide attempts. In a longitudinal study, sexual assault was found to increase the odds of substance abuse by a factor of 2.5
Did you know: in the US, a woman is raped every two minutes? If it took you 10 minutes to read this post, during that time, 5 women across the US suffered what I wrote about – or worse.
Don’t be a silent victim. There’s no reason to remain silent. There’s no shame in having been the target of someone else’s violence. Please – speak up! Reach out!
Previous posts on Abuse and Violence:
A Time to Heal …
Another Need for Healing
And the Healing Continues …
The Many Faces of Sexual Abuse
Love Shouldn’t Ever Leave Bruises
TNT’s post on rape: One in Three
Peggikaye’s post on rape: Hard Posting Again
August 28th, 2006 at 7:53 pm
Very powerful, my dear Moof. You provide a great service in this realm, no doubt, and it so good to see how you reach out to others and to see how they respond, such as in this instance. It is a privilege, to know you, ma’am, and maybe someday we will have that coffee.
Here is, for the sake of trivial interest, a connection between Maine and British Columbia. The TV series the Dead Zone is set in Maine, and is all filmed here in BC, including in my town for one of the episodes.
Thanks for what you do,
Ian
August 28th, 2006 at 8:00 pm
Moofasa – thank you for your post and your encouragement and for EVERYTHING! What you wrote is so powerful and the information/links on the bottom are really terrific :o)
PS – Can we get out of the water now? My fingers look like raisins! ;o)
August 28th, 2006 at 8:12 pm
This was very powerful and heart breaking. Thanks for sharing.
August 28th, 2006 at 8:56 pm
hmm takes a lot of curage moof… stand tall!!!
August 28th, 2006 at 9:37 pm
Moof….
I have no words to say to describe the respect I have for you writing this post. I am deeply and utterly ashamed that I am part of the same human race as the person who did this to you. I am also awesomely humbled by your strength in putting this post up.
August 28th, 2006 at 10:46 pm
Moof, so many of us have learned so much from you. Thank you for posting this. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate and respect you
August 28th, 2006 at 11:40 pm
If I had some wild apples and berries, I would make a pie for you.
Just so you could sit down, rest, and enjoy it.
later…
August 29th, 2006 at 1:27 am
Moof, I came here from TNT. It takes great courage to come forward and speak out. You’re so right when you say there’s no shame in being the victim of someone else’s violence. Shame belongs to the perpetrators and to those, as in TNT’s experience, who shame and blame the victim.
Lucky for me, I have never had to go through what you and TNT have, although I have had a close call. From that experience, I would just like to add that such incidents are not always limited to people we barely know or to strangers, sometimes the danger can come from people we thought we knew only too well.
August 29th, 2006 at 1:36 am
*hugs*
August 29th, 2006 at 2:28 am
[...] Some times I am amazed at the human ability to survive.. and others I wonder why I am so surprised…Since I have been blogging I have meet some amazing people and seen some heartbreaking stories…at the same time the fact that I have meet these people and seen them share their stories, gave me hope. It’s not because someone else.. shares A secret, Silent Shame.. As Moof shares on her blog or that there is another woman who is One in Three as TNT shares at medical pathetical. It gives me hope because the people I have met have been doing there best to help others… JIP … has been a constant source of comfort to me over the last few weeks.. she has taken time to walk me through flashbacks and panic attacks….To be honest I thought I had already done my healing as I wrote in this post moof shared for me… I still feel strongly about everything I wrote in that post, however I find I still have a few more problems to sift through to get to where I want to be. This is a huge step for me posting this and linking to a post I wrote anomously..but I have been making big steps all week… As I have reminded myself often.. to get over a fear you must first face it down head on. Part of my fear has been speaking out. This I do now though I have never hidden my past, if asked I usually answer honestly, it is not something I speak of especially in a forum like this. These are amazing women sharing there story the way they do..I am so very glad they can Stand Tall. [...]
August 29th, 2006 at 5:11 am
Shame is corrosive.
As with TNT – I’ve having to junk my original comment because I couldn’t marshall my response into readable prose.
A courageous post.
Regards – Shinga
August 29th, 2006 at 7:10 am
Such profound courage after all you’ve gone through. You’re admirable. I hope you’ll finally find peace in your heart.
Les choses ne seront bien maintenant… plus de secrets… plus de honte.
{{hugzzz}}
August 29th, 2006 at 8:23 am
Moof,
I have no words. As I began reading your post, I felt every hair on my body stand up…I felt a sick feeling in my stomach, when I realized where you were going with this story. I began to weep for you, thinking how horrible that must have been for you…the physical pain, the emotional burden you have had to deal with so many years later. It took so much courage for you to write this…to share such a personal and painful experience with all of us. I think you are an amazing lady, and I admire you so much ((((HUG))))
August 29th, 2006 at 9:59 am
(((hugs))) Moof, I can’t even comment . . .
August 29th, 2006 at 10:44 am
Important for all of us to hear and share. Every story helps others to lay the burden down. You are one courageous woman.
August 29th, 2006 at 11:54 am
I’m completely unable to comment in kind to a post of that depth and quality. Thanks, is all I can say. And “Oh, God.”
August 29th, 2006 at 12:26 pm
Oh my God, Moof! You are so brave to share that. How can you say that anything was worse than that. I’M crying. I think the thing that struck close to home for me was your circumstances. You’ve just gotten out of an abusive relationship. You finally get to have some grown-up time. Then, you not only meet one monster/predator, you meet TWO! You get away from one just to run into the other. WTF??!! I just will honestly never understand why this type of thing happens. How can “fate” or whatever work like that? Anyway, sorry, emotional response.
I am so proud of your courage in sharing that. Thank you. You know, your line of thinking on this is exactly why I wanted to launch the secret-sharing-stop-the-silence-silence-the-shame site. Thanks for your support of the idea and offer to help (I didn’t think I had it in me right now to do the moderating work of a forum–but you can see what I ended up with). Can you check it out? It’s at http://silencetheshame.blogspot.com and I’m wondering if you’d be okay with me linking this post there. Your courage can definitely inspire others. Thanks, again, for helping me feel not so alone. I am honored to stand with you as a fellow rape survivor!
August 29th, 2006 at 1:32 pm
Moof,
This is just to let you know that I read this.
I don’t think I’ll be able to comment.
August 29th, 2006 at 6:09 pm
I wanted to reply to those who were kind enough to read the post – and leave me a comment, but frankly, I’m overwhelmed by the comment thread! I want to thank each one of you from the bottom of my heart … because really, I was quite concerned about how this post would be received, and am still a bit concerned, even after this wonderful show of support.
I don’t share easily … and these last few months of blogging have been a bit like playing “chicken” with myself. I can’t believe what I’ve managed to actually post. I think I owe my newfound abilities to other bloggers … one being Dr. Centor, from DB’s MedRants, when he took a comment I left on his blog and turned it into a post … at first I was horribly embarrassed, but then I decided to try to ignore that, and use the opportunity to finish having my say. And then … there’s Dr. Bob from The Doctor Is In … and only he knows how grateful I am to him.
There are more things that I want to share as I find my courage … it may be a minute or two though …
I want to thank TNT, who is a little ball of energy … and whom I’ve been exchanging emails with pretty steadily as we prepared to take the plunge together. Be it known here and now that I’ve “adopted” her … she’s an amazing person! My respect for her knows no bounds!
Also – I want to tell everyone that Jordan Grumet is psychic! He posted part 1 of “Her Blues” on the very day that TNT and I began to write our respective posts.
TJ … your berry and apple pie sound like just the comfort food I need. That was really sweet – thank you.
To those of you who’ve sent me emails with bits and pieces of personal stories – or broad hints that there are hurts you’re hiding – I wish for you that you get up the courage to write about it … or reach out to someone … unburden yourselves … and begin the healing process. And if, someplace down the road, you feel the courage to share where you’ve been by blogging – please, make sure you let us know. I’ll be glad to help in any way I’m allowed.
I’ll continue to add links to the bottom of this post as people come out of the closet …
All of you – thank you for the affirmation.
August 29th, 2006 at 9:48 pm
This is a very brave post. Not only are you allowing others to learn about your pain and about your recovery, you are inviting others to share in the healing power of words. There is no better way to move out of trauma.
August 29th, 2006 at 11:55 pm
Moof, thank you so much for sharing. I, like health-psych, have had a very close call, and will second the thought that it can come from the person we least expect. I often wonder why it is that victims may feel “guilty” or rack their brains trying to think of what they did to cause the other person to act in such a way. We rarely discuss things like this with others, because, what do you say? But this must happen to so many of us, and I am very inspired by your strength and grateful that you have chosen to share this with us. (((HUG)))
August 30th, 2006 at 1:22 am
Moof, I am so moved by your post, and by TNT’s, that I am at a total loss for words. The courage both of you show in sharing these horrendous experiences is huge. My heart weeps for you and for her and for all the girls and women everywhere who have suffered from this crime. Thank you so much for sharing, for leading by example, and for being a tool of healing for so many who need it. I am fortunate to be one of those who have never experienced this horror, and your stories have personalized it for me in a way that I will never forget. Thank you for your courage, and your strength, and your loving heart.
August 30th, 2006 at 5:23 am
Moof dear,
I am overwhelmed with what you have narrated here. I don’t think I would have myself mustered courage to share an experience of this nature, had I been in oyur position. I can understand the pain and misery it had casued years ago, it probably still does, …hopefully with this it will slowly pass away. We all wish you remain a strong woman. We are all with you.
August 30th, 2006 at 11:11 am
Orthodoc … it is amazing how much courage there is to be found with support.
A year ago, I was sure I’d never ever tell my story. With Moof’s gentle (ahem) encouragment I was able to open up. TNT is remarkable in being able to have told immediately … like Moof and TNT shared ..only 1 in 3 do. Three of us shared our story that night …and only 1 of us had told.
Moof and I both took a couple of decades to share our story so that others could understand our pain and know they are not alone.
I would never have done so without the encouragment of Moof, I guarentee you!
The stories are painful to tell, and terrifying …because we don’t know for sure if they will bring us healing or more nightmares. We know keeping them in will bring us more nightmares. We’re never quite sure what telling will bring, especially those of us who’ve never told.
August 30th, 2006 at 11:40 am
Thank you for sharing your story. I’m starting studies to become a social worker, and I want to expand my understanding of what other women have dealt with. The lasst thing I want to be is patronizing or less than helpful when I finish school. I don’t think documentaries about rape will help me understand as well as your story has. I am sorry you had to go through this atrocity, but grateful you’ve taken the time and effort to heal and share with us.
August 30th, 2006 at 2:48 pm
It was an extraordinary story. I thought when I read about your abusive marriage I had heard everything….I guess not.
When my daughter gets old enough I will tell her your story. She needs to be on guard against people doing things like that to her.
August 30th, 2006 at 5:54 pm
Thanks – that’s all I can really say. And that maybe I’ll make a post someday, too….
Love you….
August 30th, 2006 at 8:23 pm
Moof…as I said on TNT’s blog, thank you for telling your stories. I tried to go onto her blog again today, and blogger is telling me site not found (although I am not having any problems with any other blogger sites.) I hope nothing is wrong with TNT, and I hope that one day I will have the courage the 3 of you displayed to tell my story.
August 30th, 2006 at 8:29 pm
Moof,
words dont do my reactions justice, I am deeply moved, horrified, and touched. Im so very sorry. I am so very moved by your bravery.
August 30th, 2006 at 8:32 pm
Anon … I have not deleted your comment, however I would like you to contact me please – privately – so that I know why I should believe what you’re saying. That’s a very bold accusation …
Thank you.
August 30th, 2006 at 8:48 pm
I just don’t know what to say….other than, I’m glad you survived, and are alive. I was a victim of rape, by a boyfriend, when I was 14. I turned around and married him, and then later divorced him. We also have 2 children. He repeatedly forced himself on me throughout the marriage. Not many people know about it. I always have downplayed it, because after all, I did have consentual sex with him before the first rape, and other times after. I still downplay it to this day.
But, when you get down to it, no meant NO. Whether we had consentual sex prior or not.
I never reported it. Never even told my mom, who was my best friend in the world, once I became an adult.
Looking back, I wish I had enough maturity, intelligence, and support at the age of 14 to see that it WAS rape, and that I should have/could have reported it to the police.
I am 32 yrs old now.
August 31st, 2006 at 12:26 am
Moof, Have you seen TNT’s site today???? My God, what is that all about? I am sitting here so upset right now. If that is true it is the very worse thing I have seen in my years online.
Moof, I am here for you if you need to talk. Send email if you like. Moof, you have so many friends and WE are real. If this is true don’t concentrate on it, instead think of all of us who care and really do love you.
August 31st, 2006 at 12:59 am
With regard to your post, not much more to add. The others are much more eloquent than I. I aspire to be as courageous as you…
This whole TNT thing distrubes me as well. I hope it doesn’t make you question writing this post. Even if TNT is fake, you story is REAL – your feelings are REAL – and your courage is REAL.
You have to know that your story will touch someone even beyond this blog, and give that person the courage to do what you did here: a chance to start the healing process.
August 31st, 2006 at 1:15 am
Everyone … I have heard from so many people tonight … and I’m really amazed, deeply touched, humbled … awestruck … by your support. It’s quite late (or early) here, and I’m going to quit for tonight, but I’m going to try to piece all of this together tomorrow, and post with whatever information I have. I’ve been writing almost steady for the last 4 hours.
Thank you … all of you. Your support means more to me than you realize.
August 31st, 2006 at 2:58 am
Moof–I just heard from Borneo Breezes about the post on TNT’s site, so went to look for myself. And all I can say is I JUST DON’T BELIEVE IT!!! I spent last evening reading her entire archive, and I don’t believe that an 18-year-old could have written all that. An 18-year-old would not have the knowledge and experience to have written the medical stuff, or the perspective to have written the rest. My first thought is that she caught a load of flack about the rape post and got scared, so dropped everything and RAN.
Whether her blog was true or not, does not change or lessen in any way your contribution to us all. You have opened doors and created paths of healing for many, and that is REAL, and it is YOU. You are an incredible woman who does amazing work. Thank you for that, for everything.
August 31st, 2006 at 4:01 am
I’m lost here. I haven’t been to TNT’s blog. Now, it can’t be accessed. Blogger closed it or some tech glitch?
August 31st, 2006 at 4:39 am
Moof, you are a strong and brave woman. I’m so sorry for what you experienced that night. As others have said, Stand Tall!
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. It may not feel like you have done much by posting your beautifully written story, but you have. It is brave women like you who help all of us to remember that we should feel no shame for the things that were done to us.
Thank you too, for your past offer of support in sharing my story. Maybe now it is time.
August 31st, 2006 at 1:49 pm
Came here from Flea after reading about the TNT nightmare, which I’m stunned by and can’t quite believe. I wish you’d let us all know if you’ve heard from her and is she OK? I don’t really care if she was a faker or not – she’s a good writer and I suspect this business about her being a fake is fake itself.
Now, onto YOU little missy – what a powerful way you use language to create a chilling feeling for us all. I’m so sad you went through that, I’m glad you’re finally able to discuss it and I pray you will help other women in distress through this post. As a former rape crisis volunteer who was never the victim, this is one of the most horrifying things I’ve ever read. Thank you for your honesty.
August 31st, 2006 at 2:17 pm
Peggikaye, I am sure the ‘telling process’ will bring you all more good than bad. I can understand the hesitation, the fear and the shame …but all that is so much natural and ‘human’. Bringing out all those pent-up feelings is important to ease off the pressure. But I must warn you that not everyone will react with a pat on the back. They will evoke strong emotions, and when wrecked with emotions we might falter either way!
Having said that I must also add that for every one person who is critical about your posts, I am sure there are ten of us here to support you. So take heart in the fact that you are appreciated more than anything else. I am sure your nights to come will be more peaceful than ever before. God bless you!
August 31st, 2006 at 4:52 pm
Moof — I’m stunned and saddened at the raw emotion that is still present in your post, even after so many years. My heart goes out to you and to all others who have experienced such trauma.
A
September 1st, 2006 at 7:09 pm
There simply are no words. I started to comment yesterday when I read this, but found I couldn’t…I had to step back and regroup before I could even begin to absorb what you’d written. I’m with whoever up there said that she can’t believe “fate” would lead you into that sort of situation when you’d finally found safety. And yes, there are things I’m not saying and not sharing at this time…hopefully someday I will get a dose of your courage.
September 3rd, 2006 at 6:18 pm
[...] when she collaborated with two other bloggers to come out and talk about the pain of rape and assault, she occupied my thoughts, and i even whispered a prayer for her. [...]
September 3rd, 2006 at 10:29 pm
Oh man…I don’t take I took a breath through the whole post.
Thank you for sharing this.
A close relative went through something similar and thankfully told me all about it right after it happened. Obviously I can’t blog about it or I would because many women would be able to learn from it.
I’m so sorry you went through this.
And yeah, people reading this in the 2000s who don’t remember the seventies might find it odd, but life was different back then.
A lot different.
I’m getting up the courage to go read TNTs story…..this one was pretty powerful.
September 4th, 2006 at 8:54 am
Moof,
I know we’ve all heard the adage ‘that which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’. Clearly this is the case for you – you are so amazingly strong and pulled together. Thank you for having the courage to share your stories.
September 4th, 2006 at 11:15 am
A Call for Healing, Second Edition
The first edition had some, erm, internet integrity issues. Moof tells her story, and issues a healing call.The healing and release you get from letting the hurt out – and others in to listen, understand, love and help – are
September 5th, 2006 at 9:00 pm
i have been away and i can’t beieve what i have missed. moof you are the truest of human beings that know how to bring light and love to any situation. i hope i can “grow up” to be like you. you can see your light shine from your blog alone. thank you for sharing this story and continuing the healing for others.
February 25th, 2007 at 2:12 pm
[...] Her request was a bit of an “Oh oh!” moment for me. Although I’ve dealt with difficult subjects before, Asperger Syndrome is just not something I write about in my public blog. My husband and both of my youngest sons have Asperger Syndrome, and it’s had a profound effect on all of us. [...]