Thursday, April 28, 2016

My SAAM Story

So far the stories I've been sharing this month for SAAM have been from others. I debated whether or not to share my own as I am still struggling with what they mean to me. So often I was a willing participant, someone who found my self worth and value in others' opinions. At 26, finally at peace with myself and in a loving supportive relationship, I'm not quite sure how to feel about my past experiences with men.

I've told them enough times, but never quite this way. I vehemently told everyone, myself included that I was "fine, I'm fine. I like being casual." I'm still tentative to tell my side of things; worried I might hurt the people from my past. I still want to protect these men that, from my perspective, were only there to use me. I told myself that sexual activity and being naked with someone was not intimate; it was not something that held value to me. I told myself and anyone who would listen that monogamy was a fairytale and making love belonged in Nicholas Sparks novels. My friends told me I deserved better, that I deserved respect and I didn't believe them.

A dear friend of mine said something that really resonated with me: I share my story "hopefully to bring comfort in the knowledge that not everyone goes through their life with perfect sexual history." - That's why I share my stories with you today - so you maybe will find some comfort and not feel so alone. No matter your sexual history, it shouldn't define you. Your sex life is a part of your story, but it does not determine your value or worth of love.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Guest Post - Consent

This is a guest post for my series during SAAM 2016. To find out more, visit my intro blog here.
by Anonymous, Female, 27.

In college I had exclusively sexual romantic relationships.  I was horny and no one seemed interested in dating me so mostly I wound up having a lot of casual sexual relationships.

It was my last quarter of college  (February 2010) and I had gone to the tattoo convention with some of my friends and a classmate I didn't know so well. That night we all got drunk and I had sex with the classmate I was unfamiliar with.  Our first sexual encounter was drunken and sloppy, but it was the first time I had ever experienced a "big" orgasm.  Thus, I was super excited to meet up with him again.  

On our second encounter I made sure we went out and bought condoms and made it clear that it was important to me that he wear them when we have sex.  That time he did wear a condom, but wasn't very happy about it. The next few times we had sex he didn't wear one even though I expressed that I wanted him to.  

During the majority of our encounters without any discussion he penetrated me anally. He had a large cock (pringle can dick, as some would call it) so it was super uncomfortable for me.  Pretty much every time he started fucking me in the ass I would say "stop".  He generally did not stop, but slowed down. This didn't seem important to me because it usually alleviated my discomfort. He would frequently tell me to "just breathe".

One evening about a month after we had started our sexual relationship I had picked him up for sex and the plan was for him to spend the night at my place. We were having sex and he was behind me in doggy style. My stomach wasn't feeling super great so when he put his dick in my ass I was absolutely not into it. I said "stop" and he didn't even slow down. I reached back to try and grab his arm or something because I thought maybe he hadn't heard me. At that point he put forearms/elbows on my upper arms and held me down....told me to "breathe"...and sped up. I peed and started crying.  I don't know what happened next. I don't know how long the period of time I don't remember is. 

Monday, April 11, 2016

Guest Blog: 7,12, 22

This is a guest post for my series during SAAM 2016.
To find out more, visit my intro blog here.
by Anonymous, Female, 35.

Those numbers represent my ages, the three times I was sexually assaulted or sexually harassed. From the first incident (over 28 years ago), to the last incident (more than 12 years ago), I've spent a lot of time trivializing them, and even assuming some blame.
In my mind, I always think "you know, it could have been worse" or "you could have done things to stop it." or "you turned out OK, so maybe it wasn't really a big deal". Like, the fact that I knew people who had been through worse, and that I had come out of my experiences a fairly stable and mentally healthy person, that somehow made what happened to me OK. ???
I'm just now coming to realize that I'm not doing myself, or anyone else...except for those who assaulted or harassed me...any favors by thinking that way.
That's why I decided to write this guest blog. It is time to share my experiences. It's time to face them head on, to accept them for what they were. It's time to end my silence, so that others, who might have similar experiences and similar responses, might start to understand...and to heal.

Maybe I should have told her I didn't want to play anymore...
I was 7, when I was sexually assaulted. My assaulter...she was 14. We lived in a VERY VERY VERY VERY small town. There were not a lot of kids near by, so anyone under the age of 16 sortof gravitated toward each other.
We used to play "soap opera". Typically, that just meant pretending to be a rich family, playing with dolls, and being overly dramatic. But, one day, she suggested something else. She wanted me to pretend that I was in a love scene. I'm unsure if she was ever involved, but I vividly remember myself, lying on our front porch furniture, writhing and moaning, while she stood and watched, and instructed me to do certain things.
My mom came out and broke up the scene. The girl was told to go home, and I was told I could never see her again. And I never did.

Thursday, April 7, 2016

Guest Post - Safe Places

This is a guest post for my series during SAAM 2016. To find out more, visit my intro blog here.
by Anonymous, Female, 35

There are places a girl should feel safe. Home, school, church, these are environments where a child can flourish and grow into a healthy and happy individual. For me however, these all became places to be fearful. My first experience with sexual abuse came at the age of 3. A family member came into my room and asked me to undress, then brought in his friend to watch me. They then both touched me, taking full advantage of both my nudity and my innocence. I actually have no memory of this experience; I was only made aware of it because my abuser had a crisis of conscience later in his life and confessed everything to my mother. These are the only details she’ll give me. I have no idea if anything went further, but it clearly made a mark on my young mind. It also seemed to paint a target on my back, as this was just the beginning of my sexual abuse experiences.

I hit puberty very young, growing boobs at 7 and getting my period at 9. I was hyper aware, as children and teenagers are, of my differences from the other kids. By the time I was 13, I was dealing with a very large chest, around a G cup. I was raised in a religious home, basically if the church was open, we were in it. I was very popular with the boys from youth group, even before I was in the youth group. I didn’t really understand it at the time. I knew they wanted to spend time with me, but I also knew on some level they weren’t interested in me as a person. I found out in my 20’s that there had been a running bet about which guy could get me to show him my boobs first. I’m glad to say that I won the bet, as none of them ever got to see them.
I remember clearly an experience when I was about 8, sitting on the lap of a man from church while he stroked my hair and told me how pretty I was. He told me he thought I was older, like in my teens, and how all of the boys were going to want to be with me. I know now that he was erect while doing this, I had no idea what I was feeling back then. Hindsight is both a blessing and a curse; maybe I would be happier if I never realized some of these things. He kept his hand on my ass until my mother came to collect me. I didn’t understand that what he did was wrong. I knew it felt wrong to me, but he was an adult and from the church, and I assumed I must have done something wrong for him to make me feel this way.

Monday, April 4, 2016

Guest Blog - When You're 15

This is a guest post for my series during SAAM 2016. To find out more, visit my intro blog here.
By Kitty, Female, 22

When you're 15 and in high school everything is confusing. You've grown out of or are right in the middle of horribly awkward puberty, still have braces fenced into your face and are feeling insecure in your sister's hand-me-downs. You haven't really found who you are and you're relying on a steady diet of teen magazines, television programs and the budding social media sites of 2010 to show you who you should be, what you should look like and who you should trust. You see that in high school everyone meets their "sweetheart". Its just a classic. My parents met when they were 14 and 16, my brother and his now fiancee met as sophomores, my sister and her boyfriend that bought a house together met through a high school friend. Everything good in your life comes from high school! All good relationships stem from it right? Just look at Grease, Hairspray, Boy Meets World (okay Corey and Topanga met in middle school and are STILL ultimate goals, but I can't pull off the whole lipstick heart face), literally any teen movie or show ever. You go to high school, you fall in love, you graduate, you're happy, credits roll, the end... right? What happens after the credits? What happens after everything goes dark and you don't know who you are or why you're still alone? 

I got my braces off, started cutting my hair to look like what I thought was like Hayley Williams circa 2008, used a boxed red dye so I could be cool. I still was looking for myself and was awaiting for my fairy godmother to come by and give me my magic spell of confidence.  I was convinced I could only find this confidence from satisfying others and could only feel like I mattered through their acceptance. I thought I had found it in a guy. Some twiggy, manipulative, rather unfortunate looking and emotionally abusive asshole that I thought was my one. Looking to my family for examples, this is what was normal. You found someone you liked enough in high school to kiss in the hallways and bring around your family or be brought around their family. I set my weak mind on him and he had full control over me. I let him. I blame myself for every single thing that happened to me. I brought it upon myself because I was not strong enough to say no, to be myself, to say fuck off. 

I had let myself build up this wonderful character that I put up on a pedestal. I had built him up to be something he totally wasn't. In my head he was a wonderful listener- he would just have automatic texts to send me. He couldn't recall what I thought were important conversations. I wasn't allowed to text him more than a certain amount of times. I couldn't double text him. I distinctly remember something he told me that still haunts me and makes me feel guilty for wanting any kind of attention: "I'm not your twitter, go find someone else to bother". I mean by this time I was 16 and just dumb. I want to go back and shake the shit out of myself and say stop before any of this happens, but I can't. I'm here to tell you all my story, whether you relate to it or not.