I understand your pain and anger. I am one of those that started advocating for myself after I saw fellow veterans testifying on Capital Hill. I am one of those that have gotten so pissed off at society for excusing, protecting, allowing this to happen over and over again. I am one of those that got pissed off and wanted my story to be heard after the bastard that raped me sent me an email admitting to it and NCIS still did nothing. I am one of those that got pissed off, wrote two book’s and poems about what happened to me since the Department of Defense, Senate, House and President can not do a damn thing to end rape. I am one of those that sent my service medals to Representative Speiers office, took my remaining Navy shit to Senator Tillis’s office and told them to take the shit because I no longer wanted it. I am one of those that has wrote countless letters, emails, tweeted and went to Senators offices, to get the people in charge to actually listen to me and others survivors.
By writing my truth, sharing what they did to me is MY Way of Healing. It’s my way of telling my truth and not keeping their secret. It’s my way of letting the 11 year old inside of me know that his threat to kill me if I told any one was empty and I will not keep his secret or any more. Its my way of taking my power back from the two bastards at UC that raped me. It’s my way of taking my power back from the bastard’s that raped me at 23 and 25. It’s my way of taking my power back from the chain of command that did nothing. Writing and sharing my truth through poetry is my way of healing.
I am sorry if I have triggered any survivor by sharing details of what they did to me. It’s my way of healing. I will not apologize for doing what I can to heal myself. We all heal in our own way. Survivors and those who care about us need to unite with us to get those in power to actually understand and listen.
The day I was raped was the first time I wore a jean skirt. OMG, I was so excited. Was that the case with you too?
It was up against my green Firebird, just after eight o’clock. It was beginning to get dark. He pushed me against the car, whispered in my ear, and looked behind him to make sure he had an audience. I swear I saw my head go through the window. Was that the case with you too?
And when he was done, I’m not sure how I got home. But I remember his smile. I said “I’m okay” for two days. I tried to scrub him off my skin in scolding hot showers. Was that the case with you too?
For nine years, I couldn’t even say the word “rape.” He took away every success I would ever achieve. He destroyed me. He still owns my…
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