Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Express Yourself While Healing Yourself

Art is an awesome way to really get your feelings out. I get my feelings out on a piece of paper with a diary my mother got me for that specific reason. Having a diary is good, but there's other ways to get it out too.
  Let's start off with drawing. Now I started drawing for a while, I stopped because I can only take so much of it before I go insane, it is stressful. Well, at least the way I did it was stressful. I pretended like I was back to the scene of the attack. I drew one picture of how I was, where I was, what was around me, and who was around me before it happened. Then I drew a second picture of just my face and the bed I was on and the alarm clock that is imprinted in my mind for some reason I'll never forget it while the attack was happening. Then I drew a third picture of myself after the attack, where I was, and what was around me. This is pretty tough to do, it most definitely made me want to puke, punch something, rip my skin off, and bawl my eyes out all at the same time. But afterwards I calmed down, then the next day I looked at the pictures again. I felt relief. See, I accept what happened to me. I shouldn't have to accept it, but the only way to move forward in healing is to accept that it happened. The last picture I drew was kind of an abstract, just a mix of lots of different objects that represent certain things through out my whole life and who I am, who I was, and what I've become. So drawing can help.
   How about painting? It's kinda the same thing as drawing. Abstract is a cool thing to do. Just paint what you feel, dip your brush in whatever color you're feeling and put it on the canvas however you want. It's that simple :)
  Let's talk about poems. See, poems and songs kinda go hand in hand. Poems are just shorter, and really don't even have to rhyme. Here's an example of a poem I wrote:
  lost again in a town i don't know
 funny how a friend turns to foe
 he was supposed to keep me safe away from harm
 why wont he let go of me i can't move his arm
 why can't i see straight nothing looks right
 why do i try but can't put up a fight
 shouldn't have been drinking
 i'm stupid, i wasent thinking
 i want to go home
 i run away shaking and alone.

Now I just came up with that off the top of my head, that was a nice random release for the night. You should give the poem thing a try :)
Writing songs is amazing, I've been doing it since I was 8 years old. I have tons of songs, I'm sure you'll be seeing some I'll post them.

There's tons of different forms of art, you just have to find what you like, and express yourself. :)


Don't Cry For Her, She's Okay - a Poem by my Sister, a Survivor.

She was a young teenage girl with a successful life ahead,
Until she met this guy and ran with him instead.
He led her into his lies and took her life away,
Made her do as he said or he'd promise to hurt her someday.
One day his promise came true, he punched her in the face,
Backed her in a corner and stole away her grace.
That was the final straw for her, she finally got the nerve to leave.
But now, she's got a piece of him that she can not believe...
So, she went to tell him he's a dad and he said he didn't care.
So she went on all alone in hopes one day he would be there.
Now almost two years later he's never acknowledged her,
But somehow that's not surprising because she predicted this to occur.

    Stephanie Hartman-Mackynen

I wrote this when Destiny was a little over one years old. Her father raped me not only once, but several times in the seven months I was in Arizona. Not only did I endure all that, I was also physically abused. He kicked the crap out of me daily. When I discovered I was pregnant, I didn't know what to do. I was afraid to tell anyone. I explored options that I do not agree with, but in the circumstance I was in I had to look at every available option. Thirteen years later, my daughter is a wonderfully talented young lady. I have days where I look at her and all I see is him and it is hard. I flash back to the horrible memories I have tried to erase. For years, I didn't tell a sole about what happened and to this day only a few people know the whole story. Some details do not need to be said, but just enough so those can understand what happened. I was a typical 16 year old girl when I met this jerk. I got caught up in the moment and took off to Arizona with him. What a mistake, because that is when the hell started. I hid that pain I endured for years... The best way to begin the healing process is to talk. I am not as brave as you (Melody) and doing what you are doing with this blog and all. I couldn't be any prouder of who you are and how you stand up for what you believe in. I commend you, love you, and wish you all the best with everything you do in life. Making others aware of RAPE is powerful. So many young people don't fully understand the subject and what is classified as rape. Like you said, anything after the word "no" is exactly that, rape. I hope that your words reach those who need the inspiration to open up and begin to heal...

Thank you so much for this, it definitely took a lot of strength to share this and I hope you know by sharing this you're  giving other survivors a sense of comfort knowing they're not the only ones and also showing that it's okay to speak up.
Thank you for being proud of me, I'm just doing the best I can to change the worlds view on rape. I love you big sis :)
  Poetry is an amazing thing that helps survivors work through the overwhelming emotions we all have as Stephanie has shown with her poem. Writing songs is also another helpful thing, as well as painting/drawing. 


A Message From an Amazing Supporter!

I had sent out a few messages via Facebook to inform people of Rape Victims Rights Movement.
I got a response from an amazing man who had lost his son and is the author of "A Child Died, A Father Cried"

Here's what he had to say about RVRM!

"Melody/all---I think this is a great way to speak forth the truth while helping others at the very same time. There is healing in the truth being told, abuse stopping for the victims and others...and sharing (like your blog) while helping others. I will be praying for you as you share with others so unselfishly. That is love."

This message truly made my heart swell, I love when people encourage and support this movement, it reminds me over and over again that YES this is something that should be talked about openly and LOUDLY so everyone can be informed and never ever keep us quiet!


Any questions you want help with? Or a Topic you want me to cover?

If you have any questions you want me to make a post about and answer, let me know! Is their a topic you want me to make a post about? I'll do it. All you have to do is e-mail me at
 And no worries, if you'd like me to keep your name private, just tell me, and I will.
I'm all about creating a safe and healthy environment here.


Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Here's a song I heard & Thought of You All!

I heard this song on a commercial and immediately went online to see who did it and I found the video :)  It made me think of myself and all of you, enjoy XOXO

Be OK - Ingrid Michealson on YouTube

Here's the lyrics in case you aren't able to watch the video right now!

I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
I just want to feel something today
I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
I just want to feel something today

Open me up and you will see
I'm a gallery of broken hearts
I'm beyond repair, let me be
And give me back my broken parts

I just want to know today, know today, know today
I just want to know something today
I just want to know today, know today, know today
Know that maybe I will be ok

Just give me back my pieces
Just give them back to me please
Just give me back my pieces
And let me hold my broken parts

I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today
I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today

I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
I just want to feel something today
I just want to know today, know today, know today
Know that maybe I will be ok
Know that maybe I will be ok
Know that maybe I will be ok

Looks like I've been blocking...Time to hop back on the road to RECOVERY!

Dear fellow survivors and supporters :),
 It's been a while since I've updated the blog or said anything. Life's been busy with work and friends. It's also been too busy to really focus on recovering. It's weird, it's like life does not stop for you to recover and work on yourself but you have to if you want to be sane. Blocking is almost natural because what else can you do when you have work, school, friends, activities. But no more excuses, I need to hop back on the road to recovery. I'm thinking and there's tons of different ways to help yourself heal everyday. Even if it's just sitting down at night after a busy day and reflecting on how far you've come since it happened, how you reacted differently to things today than you would have right after your attack happened. Or if your attack recently happened sit down and reflect on how you've felt in certain places today or how you've reacted to things people have said or did different from before. Try to think why you've reacted or felt this way. Recognizing feels and emotions are majorly important. Once you recognize them, figure out where exactly they come from, they become super easy to understand so they don't feel so overwhelming because my God them things could drown me if I didn't learn how to recognize them.
  Just my thoughts of the night, hope you all are doing well XOXO

Tell the F.B.I. RAPE IS RAPE!

Please join me in signing this petition to tell the F.B.I. that rape is rape.

*WARNING - some of the things said below may trigger you, read with caution.

Each year, the FBI fails to count hundreds of thousands of rapes in its Uniform Crime Report (UCR)—even missing many rapes that are reported to police. That’s because for over 80 years, the FBI has been using the same fundamentally flawed definition of “forcible” rape: “The carnal knowledge of a female forcibly and against her will” to track rape statistics in the UCR.
This excludes rapes involving forced anal sex and/or oral sex, vaginal or anal fisting, rape with an object (even if serious injuries result), rapes of men and transgender people and other injurious and degrading sexual assaults. Also, because the definition includes the word “forcibly,” police departments often interpret the rule (against UCR guidelines) as leaving out rapes of women with physical or mental disabilities and those who were unconscious or under the influence of drugs and alcohol.

Sign the petition on now!

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Tell Facebook: RAPE IS NO JOKE

I've copied and pasted this from :

According to Facebook’s terms of service, users are not permitted to post content that is hateful, threatening or incites violence. But it appears that, in the minds of the Facebook powers-that-be, pages that encourage rapedon’t violate that rule.
For two months now, Facebook users have beencampaigning for the site to take down several “rape joke” pages. The titles of these pages include such gems as “Riding your girlfriend softly, cause you don’t want to wake her up” and “You know she’s playing hard to get when you’re chasing her down an alleyway.” Hundreds of Facebook users have reported the pages as Terms of Service violations, and a petition (see below) demanding their removal has received over 130,000 signatures. But Facebook has yet to take action. Dozens of pages advocating rape or violence against women remain on the site, many with tens of thousands of fans.
The defenders of these pages say that we need to lighten up. Learn to take a joke. Feminists are, once again, being humorless. We are making mountains out of molehills when we become outraged by such trivial things as pro-rape Facebook pages.
According to statistics, 17.4 percent of women in the U.S. have survived a completed or attempted rape, and that figure would likely be higher if victims were not so often silent about their experiences. Yet we are not supposed to question what it means for us, as women, to live in a culture that dehumanizes us with acts of sexual assault (the vast majority of which are committed by men we know personally) and then dehumanizes us further by pointing and laughing at our victimization, belittling trauma with crude humor. This is the definition of rape culture: a society that upholds the conditions for sexual violence against women and treats this violence as an unchangeable norm.
Anyone who claims that a rape joke is just a joke does not understand how rape culture works. Just as racist jokes can only be found funny within a culture of racism, rape jokes could not exist outside of a culture of rape. When our society allows men to believe that having sex with a sleeping woman is not rape; that having sex with a girlfriend or previous sexual partner is never rape; that having sex with someone who is too intoxicated to consent or object is not rape; men are taught to feel entitled to these acts (and women are taught to accept them in silence). When our culture is casually permissive of sexual assault, it inevitably perpetuates more sexual assault.
It would be absurd, of course, to suggest that anyone goes out and commits assault as a direct reaction to a Facebook page. But in reducing sexual violence to nothing more than a joke, they reflect and perpetuate the idea that women are objects to be used for the sexual satisfaction of men. Countless seemingly small things work together to uphold that kind of pervasive misogyny.
It would be na├»ve to imagine that the removal of these pages will in and of itself end rape culture. But that doesn’t mean the appropriate response is to simply accept them. Daunting as the task may be, the only way to end rape culture is to confront it.
Facebook is certainly not responsible for the prevalence of sexual assault in our society. But those in a position of power at Facebook are responsible for the choice they make to either condone or condemn the use of sexual assault as humor. Silence, as the saying goes, is acceptance. And Facebook’s refusal to take sexual violence seriously is exactly the kind of complicit silence that rape culture thrives on.

Disgusting..........lets take action and sign the petition.
And though this post is aimed at sexual violence agaisnt females, let us NEVER forget, it's males to.
Pay close attention to the "rape culture" definition,  I always knew there was something wrong with America and the way certain things such as forced sex and used as jokes or to be taken lightly. We're living in a rape culture, this is alarming.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Don't Confuse Helping Other Survivors with Healing Yourself

I remember when it all first went down, after a couple weeks my mom had found some websites online for me. They were forums where other survivors talked about their problems and others gave advice and such. I immediately started going on there helping people, or at least thinking I was helping people. It had just happend to me, how could I have really been helping people? I was talking about things I really didn't know much about. I thought I was healing myself by helping out other people. I sat down that night to write a self help book for rape survivors, that's when I realized I didn't have anything to write. I didn't know what to write because I was just raped, I was at my lowest point ever and didn't understand how I was feeling or what was coming next nonetheless how to deal with it. That's when my mom told me I have to help myself before I can help others.
  Going around attempting to help everyone else takes attention off of yourself which is another form of blocking out what happend to you and placing your attention on other people.
  So everyone, help yourself before you help others. Lets say someone asks for help with nightmares, if you've been through them and you've handled them properly, help them. If you're still having nightmares and they overwhelm you and you don't know what to do, don't try and help. Help yourself, you have to be strong before you can give strength to others.

Black on White Rape in Male Prisons

From Chapter 7 of Violence by James Gilligan, M.D., a psychiatrist:
  I first gained some acquaintance with some reality of rape in prison, and of the means through which some inmates are forced into the role of a sex slave, when I was asked to see a young man, Jeffrey L., because his behavior had become so bizarre that the prison authorities thought he needed to be evaluated for a psychiatric illness. The incident that led to this referral had occurred in the prison visiting room, a setting in which inmates can sit at a table on one side with the visitor on the other. Jeffrey's mother had just concluded a visit with him when instead of merely saying goodbye he leaped over the table in an attempt to follow her out of the visiting room and out of prison crying hysterically, clinging to her, begging her to take him home with her. Since he would not tell either his mother or the correction officers why he had behaved this way, they asked me to see him.

On (human rights watch) I found these statistics - keep in mind these are the ones that were reported, so many are not reported.
According to the report, released today by the Bureau of Justice Statistics (BJS), "Sexual Victimization in State and Federal Prisons Reported by Inmates in 2007," 4.5 percent of the state and federal prisoners surveyed reported sexual victimization in the past 12 months. Given a national prison population of 1,570,861, the BJS findings suggest that in one year alone more than 70,000 prisoners were sexually abused.

I typed in a Google search "black on white rape" and these articles had come up. It's not just females, it's males as well. I thought this was a good example of the fact that males are sexual assault survivors, too. And they're also victims of this black on white rape issue. I feel this black on white rape is a hate crime. But at the same time I don't care what it is because all it boils down to is that there's sick people in this world that are PROVEN to have an illness that cannot be changed by medication nor any other kind of treatment.
  I'm going to keep gaining more knowledge on this issue, and I'd like for you all to keep up on it with me and we will take action as soon and enough knowledge is on our side.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Interracial Rape Statistics - black on white rape % is higher than white on black

When whites do violence -- rape, murder, assault -- how often do they choose black victims? Shouldn't a nation of bigots target blacks most of the time? At least half of the time? Of course, it does not. When whites commit violence, they to it to blacks 2.4 percent of the time. Blacks, on the other hand, choose white victims more than half the time. [317]
In those cases in which the race of the killer is known, blacks kill twice as many whites as whites kill blacks. Black-on-white robberies and gang assaults are twenty-one times more common than white on black. In the case of gang robbery, blacks victimize whites fifty-two times more often than whites do blacks. [318]
The contrasts are even more stark in the case of interracial rape. Studies from the late 1950s showed that the vast majority of rapes were same-race offenses. Research in Philadelphia carried out in 1958 and 1960 indicated that of all rapes, only 3.2 percent were black-on-white assaults and 3.6 percent were white-on-black. Since that time, the proportion of black-on-white rapes has soared. In a 1974 study in Denver, 40 percent of all rapes were of whites by blacks, and not one case of white-on-black rape was found. In general, through the 1970s, black-on-white rape was at least ten times more common that white-on-black rape. [319]
Because interracial rape is now overwhelmingly black on white, it has become difficult to do research on it or to find relevant statistics. The FBI keeps very detailed national records on crime, but the way it presents rape data obscures the racial element rather than clarifies it. Dr. William Wilbanks, a criminologist at Florida International University, had to sift carefully through the data to find that in 1988 there were 9,406 cases of black-on-white rape and fewer than ten cases of white-on-black rape. [320] Another researcher concludes that in 1989, blacks were three or four times more likely to commit rape than whites, and that black men raped white women thirty times as often as white men raped black women. [321]
Interracial crime figures are even worse than they sound. Since there are more than six times as many whites as blacks in America, it means that any given black person is vastly more likely to commit a crime against a white than vice versa.


317. "What Should Be Done," US News & World Report (August 22, 1989), p. 54. See also Department of Justice, Criminal Victimization in the United States, 1987 (Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1989), p.7.318. Department of Justice, Criminal Victimization in the United States, 1987.
319. Gary D. LaFree, "Male Power and Female Victimization: Toward a Theory of Interracial Rape," American Journal of Sociology, Vol. 88, No. 2 (September 1982).
320. William Wilbanks, "Frequency and Nature of Interracial Crimes," submitted for publication to the Justice Professional (November 7, 1990). Data derived from Department of Justice, Criminal Victimization in the United States, 1987, p. 53.
321. Andrew Hacker, Two Nations, pp. 183, 185.

Jared Taylor, Paved with Good Intentions: The Failure of Race Relations in Contemporary America (New York: Carrol & Graf, 1992), 92-93.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Silent all These Tears - Tori Amos

YouTube - Silent All These Years

Excuse me but can I be you for a while
My dog won't bite if you sit real still
I got the anti-Christ in the kitchen yellin' at me again
Yeah I can hear that
Been saved again by the garbage truck
I got something to say you know
But nothing comes
Yes I know what you think of me
You never shut-up
Yeah I can hear that

But what if I'm a mermaid 
In these jeans of his 
With her name still on it
Hey but I don't care
Cause sometimes
I said sometimes
I hear my voice
And it's been here
Silent All These Years

So you found a girl
Who thinks really deep thougts
What's so amazing about really deep thoughts
Boy you best pray that I bleed real soon
How's that thought for you
My scream got lost in a paper cup
You think there's a heaven
Where some screams have gone
I got 25 bucks and a cracker
Do you think it's enough
To get us there

Cause what if I'm a mermaid 
In these jeans of his 
With her name still on it
Hey but I don't care
Cause sometimes
I said sometimes
I hear my voice
And it's been here
Silent All These...

Years go by 
Will I still be waiting
For somebody else to understand
Years go by
If I'm stripped of my beauty
And the orange clouds
Raining in my head
Years go by 
Will I choke on my tears
Till finally there is nothing left
One more casualty
You know we're too easy easy easy

Well I love the way we communicate
Your eyes focus on my funny lip shape
Let's hear what you think of me now
But baby don't look up
The sky is falling
Your mother shows up in a nasty dress
It's your turn now to stand where I stand
Everybody lookin' at you here
Take hold of my hand
Yeah I can hear them

But what if I'm a mermaid 
In these jeans of his 
With her name still on it
Hey but I don't care
Cause sometimes
I said sometimes
I hear my voice [x3]

And it's been here
Silent All These Years
I've been here
Silent All These Years 

Thursday, July 7, 2011


I just went to Facebook to create a causes and community page for Rape Victims' Rights Movement, once I typed in the name of the movement a message popped up that said "Our automated system will not allow the name "Rape Victims' Rights Movement." I went to the help page to see why this was not allowed, and it says it may have contained abusive terms. I understand that they don't want anyone using the word rape in a twisted way, but how are we supposed to hit home and make a difference if people don't even know what we're about?
  But that's okay, I'll name it RVR Movement on Facebook.

Rape related PTSD - educate yourself and spread awareness!

Rape-Related Posttraumatic Stress Disorder

   The link above will take you to The National Center for Victims of Crime's page on PTSD.
It's healthy for us to learn about it, because obviously it applies to the most of us, and also educate others about it. Lots of people think oh yeah people with PTSD are soldiers, or people who got in car accidents, ect. It rarely pops into someone's head that sexual abuse survivors suffer PTSD.
  Spread your knowledge. When someone hears of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I want sexual abuse survivors to pop into their minds. The more aware people are, the better chance we have at fighting this crime.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Don't Make Victim Pay $35,000 For Refusal to Cheer Rapist

Silsbee High School in Texas wants their cheerleaders smiling, energetic, and willing to cheer for their rapists by name.
H.S., a Silsbee student, reported being raped by Rakheem Bolton, a fellow student and athletic star. Bolton pled guilty to a lesser assault charge against her.
Bolton was allowed to continue playing on the varsity basketball team, which meant that in her role as cheerleader, H.S. would have to cheer for a team that included her rapist. She continued to do so, but refused to cheer for him by name during his individual free throws.
In a display of extreme disrespect for a rape survivor and disregard for her well-being, school officials insisted that H.S. had to scream "Rakheem" with the rest of the cheerleaders, or she'd be kicked off the squad. School officials also pushed H.S. "to keep a low profile, such as avoiding the school cafeteria and not taking part in homecoming activities." She refused these instructions and lost her spot as a cheerleader.
Tell Silsbee officials that this is no way to treat rape victims, and insist that they publicly issue an apology to H.S. immediately. Furthermore, tell them to instate a policy outlining appropriate treatment of sexual assault survivors, which does not put the onus on the victim to ensure smooth interactions at the school, and to instate prevention programs that have been suggested by H.S.'s father.
Update: H.S.'s family lost a First Amendment lawsuit, with the court deciding that cheerleaders are only a "mouthpiece" for their schools, with no right to refuse their to cheer their rapists. The court further declared the lawsuit "frivolous" and has ordered the family to pay more than $35,000 in legal fees. For the school to take money from a rape victim over their clear misconduct -- even if it's not for free speech reasons -- is beyond the pale. Demand that Silsbee refuse to take money from the victim's family.
Update: Want to do something else for H.S.? Journalist Scott Rose is calling for people to mail one penny to the Silsbee School District if the superintendent will not waive the fee as a form of protest. You're encouraged to send a note expressing your POV on the subject as well. Pennies should be mailed to:
Richard Bain Jr.
Silsbee Independent School District
415 Highway 327 West
Silsbee, TX, 77656
If you'd like to help H.S.'s family with their own legal fees, you can donate via Paypal to the address

I take no credit for this information, I read it on and copy & pasted it here for us to help make a change.

Sign Petition

Please sign the petition everybody!

The Rest of my Story

I grabbed my jeans and put them on then ran out to the living room. I was shaking uncontrollably, I fell onto the couch I remember blinking my eyes like a million times, I don't know what good I thought that'd do for me but apparently I thought it'd make it all go away. The feeling of shock mixed with fear was incredible. I couldn't sleep, I didn't know what to do. If I left, I wouldn't know where to go or who to go to. What if he found me walking the streets? What if I find someone just like him? People say "you could have went to police" ... How could I trust anyone. How could I even think clearly to even think to go to police? His mom was right there. She heard me scream like something out of a scary movie. My fricken life turned into a scary movie. She just stayed in her room, ignoring it all. A mom. A mom hearing a 16 year old baby scream for help. What a piece of shit. So no, I couldn't try anybody, still don't know if I can. I can't stop thinking of how I felt like the worlds biggest whore. Just a slut being treated as one. It never occured to me prior to this that people did something to people so twisted. I never ever thought things like this happend. It's disgusting. It left me feeling disgusting. To this day I'd like to rip my skin completely off of my body, burn it, and walk away skinless looking as sick as I feel. I don't mean to be so twisted, but when twisted things happen to you, you're mind as well becomes sick. I try to steer clear of feeling those ways and becoming a twisted person. Back to my story. I somehow managed to sleep, I don't remember how, but I woke up in the morning to find a shirt he laid across my body that said "I'm with the drummer." He was a drummer in the band. How fucked up. To this day I cannot process that in my mind. I just can't. Did he really thing he owned me? He couldn't have. Who could think that? You don't treat someone like that and then think you own them. You don't. I'm not a slave to your sick desires or something to unleash your anger on, you don't own me. He doesn't own me. Later that day, Aaron and the rest of the band was coming over to practice, Aaron knew my mom was looking for me and Daryl didn't want anyone to find me so he came to me and said I needed to hide. I just looked at him disgusted. He said we need to come up with a story to tell Aaron. I gave him the same look. Anyways, Aaron ended up coming, and finding me. I was afraid to leave with him. In my mind I was thinking if I left with him, Daryl would be mad, if he was mad who knows what would happen to me or Aaron. Or, if I left with Aaron what if he attacks me too? What if his girlfriend lets him? But I knew I couldn't stay there. Not if I had any chance in hell of saving myself. I pulled Aaron aside and whispered to him that I wanted to get out of there but I'm afraid that Daryl will get mad. Aaron was pissed off about Daryl not telling anyone he had me. so he told me to pack my things and he stormed away and went in the kitchen to Daryl. They were yelling at eachother but trying to keep quiet. I was scared to death. The shaking never completely stopped since it happend, but it intensified as I was packing my things listening to them yell. Anyways, I got out. I eventually got home. To find my mom sick, I didn't even recognize her. She was nearly dead, she hadn't eaten, barely slept. She was so pale. Lost so much weight. I'd never seen her or anyone except for a dead person at a funeral look so sick. I really hated seeing my mom that distressed, upset, sick, worried, hopeless.

My Story. (the 1st time I've told it since my police statement.)

*Be aware this can cause triggering!*
t was summer in Rochester, NY and I was 16. Right around this time I've developed an attitude, one that made me think I was old enough to be my own boss and nobody else can tell me what to do. This caused so many arguments with my mom and I. Everyday it was an argument over something soo dumb. July 23rd we had been arguing all day, I don't even know what it started over. Anyways, by the time 3am came around I walked out of the door and was never seen again. I just left out of frustration and anger. I walked around for a little while, texted my mom trying to work things out, got more frustrated, and then my phone died. I couldn't go back home. Or at least I thought I couldn't. I walked down the road about 5 miles to the mall, I tried to turn my phone on one more time to text someone to come pick me up. No one was awake, but there was one person who I knew would be up, and had a car. I won't change names, I'm telling it like it is. His name is Daryl Malcolm. He's serving 7 years in Cayuga State Prison in NY. Keep in mind he was 26 years old, I was 16. I texted him and said I had a fight with my mom, no where to to, can you come get me at the mall. He said he'd be there asap. I barely knew this guy. He was an acquaintance. I probably talked to him 3 times prior to this. He played in my friends band, that's how I knew of him. I had his number because he had given it to me at a concert one night, but we hadn't texted. An hour later he arrived at the mall, I was soaking wet from the rain I had walked through, I was drenched. I got in his truck and he looked at me and said "You look like you need a drink" being 16, i thought okay whatever. We drove to the liquor store. I didn't talk much, I felt pretty sick about the whole argument with my mom. He bought us hypnotic. I'll never drink it again. Anyways, some parts are still fuzzy to me, everything is all twisted in my mind, I can't think straight when it comes to talking about this. But eventually we ended up at a Rite Aid in his town (he lived in a whole different town than mine) he bought me body wash and shavers so I could go to his house and get clean. We ended up back at his house, I didn't shower. I got to his couch in the living room and went to sleep. I was really upset, I just wanted to sleep. Everything happend so fast it was mind blowing, didn't make sense, one hour i was in the city, the next I was out in the sticks with this guy I didn't know very well. I was at his hour for 10 days. I had no idea where exactly I was, how far I was from home, if my mom was okay, what I was supposed to do. It was hard to think when I had him feeding my alcohol EVERY night, and weed from the morning to night. It's amazing how fuzzy my memory is, I read my police statement and can't even remember some of the things I talked about in it. I think I've blocked out a lot, but I remember the important things. One night we went to a music fest thing and he was on mushrooms and tried to give me some, I didn't take them. I remember him driving us back to his house high of mushrooms, I remember being scared. I didn't eat too much, I'm not going to get into details but after the argument with my mom, I didn't know if she was dead or alive, that's why I was so upset. All this time Daryl had me at his house, sheltered from anybody looking for me, my mom had a endangered missing person report out. She nearly died looking for me. All the time Daryl knew she was looking for me. He kept me, never asked if I wanted to call my mom when he KNEW I was upset crying about her. My friend Aaron told Daryl my mom was looking for me, he never told me. He hid me from our friend Aaron.  The band Daryl and Aaron were in were supposed to practice, but didn't because he was hiding me. The next thing I remember is the night it happend. It was exactly like every other night, we sat down on the couch, drank alcohol, and watched tv. He picked up my drink and said it felt warm. He went to go put ice in it. I heard him stirring the ice, which I thought was weird, but didn't care. He kept pressuring me to drink more and faster. He wouldn't stop. Then before I knew it I didn't feel okay. Everything got blurry, I couldn't see right. I know he noticed. That's why he got up and walked towards his room and said "I want to show you something" and told me to follow him. Stupidly, I followed him. When  I stood up I didn't know what was wrong with me, I had never gotten drunk before so I just thought I must have been drunk. I felt fuzzy and blurry and couldn't walk right. I saw more than one of him, didn't know which one was really him. And even stupider ( if that's a word) I plopped myself right on the edge of his bed and said "What do you wanna show me?" It was over from there. I had no control I was fucked up on whatever he gave me, there was no stopping it. I tried. I really tried. I calmly asked him what he was doing, I screamed. I yelled. I freaked out. I hit him. There wasn't anything to do. So I cried. I just cried.
That's all for now guys.

The Lotus

The Lotus is a beautiful flower. It grows deep in the mud, the deeper the mud it's growing in, the more beautiful it blossoms when it comes up. Right now I think we can all agree that we're in some pretty deep mud, we're not waist deep, we're in over our heads. But it's okay, we'll make it - only if we want to.
   You can't give up, keep pushing, keep moving, you'll make it. In every dark cloud there's a silver lining. It gets hard, I've given up too many times. But here I am, the strongest I think I've ever been. And it's only been two years since my attack. I say only because in reality that's not long, but to me it seems like ages. I'm sure I'll have my weak days, and I'll share them with you as well as my strong days. That's how we get through and survive life after rape/molestation/abuse. We share our stories for those who are too afraid to share theirs. By us sharing our stories, we help give others strength to do the same.
   I wear a lotus necklace, everyday, every night, through every shower, all the time. I received it on Christmas the year of my attack from my mother. I wear it all the time because it symbolizes so much. Where I've been, what I've seen, who I was, who I am, the people who help me on my journey to recovery, the ones who stuck by my side through it all, it symbolizes God, everything and everyone I love. It symbolizes who I am.
   We're in the deepest, thickest, mud that almost feels like quick sand, but hey, you know what? We'll help ourselves and each other get out of this, and when we do, we'll blossom beautifully.

My Point in This Blog + What I Want to Accomplish

The past 2 years light is being shined on rape for everyone to see it happens EVERYDAY. As a survivor, it's time to step out of the dark, not alone but TOGETHER & stand up for our rights as people. Follow this blog, and follow me in the direction of working towards a world who sees rape for what it is: disgusting, embarrasing, evil, twisted, sick and a crime that leaves us dead inside. Let us re-build together, let us not stay dead inside, let us rise above & stand up for ourselves!
  If you don't know the story of the Lotus, check out my next blog. Let's gain strength together and stand up. We won't be silenced, I want EVERYBODY to hear us. I want to make an impact on this world and spread sexual abuse awareness. I'm talkin' protests, accepting what happend and sharing our knowledge, the whole nine. We need to make a change.