H
honestyTea
3 years ago, I was someone else. I was full of life & dreams & aspirations. I was naive in many ways yes, but also hopeful. In a genuinely promising way. I had a future ahead of me & I'd already experienced some pretty amazing things on the path to success. I was every-bodies favorite student, all of my professors saw potential in me. all of my employers would bend over backwards to either keep me or help me move upward in my career. I had it all. Youth, beauty, talent and drive.
Today, i manage a retail shop. I'm a college drop out, merely 6 credits away from my bachelors degree & yet too financially AND mentally unstable to excuse going Ou back to school. I am a singer/musician... I play in dark, smelly bars & drink whiskey til I black out. I suffer from PTSD. Somewhere in between '3 yrs ago' and 'today' I became a shell of what I once was. I want that person -that amazing and capable person- back.
I was approached by a man at a gig I was playing, he asked me to sing a Patsy Cline song. I did, he tipped me. That was that. For the next three weeks... he did that same. One night, he got drunk enough to say more than those few words to me & asked if I'd sit with him. I told him he wasn't my type & wrote it off. He seemed offended by my bluntness but it is a quality id never regretted exhibiting until he came along.
That night I left the bar alone, as I always did. He followed me. I didn't see him back there, didn't know the man or what kind of car he drove So I wouldn't have thought to look. Now I can't go anywhere without looking over my shoulder.... but then... I just didn't. I got home, grabbed my swim suit & left again. Went for a swim at a friends house a few blocks up the road. When I returned. My door was slightly ajar & there was a foot print near the door knob. Even at this point I didn't think anything of it aside from 'how strange...' I push the door open and realize the frame is cracked, and it'd been kicked in. I notice right away my guitar (my most prized possession) was gone. I ran into the back room hoping it'd be there, it wasn't, my electric was gone too.
Just as it began to sink in, what was happening, I realized I wasn't alone in the room. There he was, the man from the bar, holding my guitar, like he was about to play it. He told me to sit down. As I did, I looked around and began to notice other things that were missing. Also, empty beer cans everywhere. He'd been drinking while he waited for me. I freaked. Stood up and made a dash for the door, my feet get tangled in some dirty laundry I had spread across the floor & it didn't matter much anyhow because he'd thrown my guitar down and slammed the door shut before I'd even hit the ground. He yanked me up by my arm and shoved me down on the bed. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and put his hand around my neck, hard.
He started crying & asked why I was doing this. He said I was killing him and he knew I liked it. He raped me. Then he grabbed my guitar and started to play a song... he starting singing and I started to cry. He stopped playing and asked me not to cry, he came over and tried to kiss me and when I turned away he punched a hole through the wall. Said I was being difficult. He became outraged and yanked me outta bed and began throwing me around the room, kicked me a few times. He was crying and screaming all at once, I thought he was gonna kill me. He pushed me into the closet and pressed himself into me real hard. He held his hands around my neck until I stopped fighting him, then he hit me one more time, this time in the face, and then dropped me. He slammed the door, shutting me into the closet... took both my guitars and a few other things, and left. It took the police 9 long days to find him.
He turned out to be a 19 year old first offender & after a year of trial (in which my tox report and personal life was questioned and I was made to feel like I'd asked for it), he was sentenced to one year jail time, and ten yrs probation, community service and restitution. Hardly seems appropriate. I suppose he'd manage to convince the small time cops I was an addict and we'd been dating. I smoke pot and drink whiskey and all the bars in town knew me by name.
His lawyer said that the only proof of crime was the assault and the breaking and entering, and that beyond that it was a 'lovers quarrel.'
He took away from me, my confidence, my fearlessness, my sense of self worth... for a while, my love for music was even tainted. The song he'd sung me was all I could hear when I'd try to write something new. I dropped out of college because I couldn't even handle getting out of bed. I'd sleep with a couch up against the door for fear that he'd get out unexpectedly, & he would find me. I moved... a lot. 4 different states, 2 different countries...
I tried relationships but that's difficult. Intimacy is almost impossible for me. So much so, that I actually black out sometimes... I can't remember it. I'm rough during sex also, and can't achieve a climax without some sort of rough or dominating dynamic. I know that something is very wrong & yet I feel as if nothing can undo what's been done. There is no answer... and people keep telling me, I should talk about it so... there. I've told a bunch of strangers my painful story. I don't feel better. I feel like my friends and family, don't understand because, well quite frankly, how could they?
Anyhow, I don't expect a lot of you to read this whole thing. Or to have a lot to say. But if you find the words, and have the time... I'm up for any advice... words of wisdom or encouragement.... anything.
Today, i manage a retail shop. I'm a college drop out, merely 6 credits away from my bachelors degree & yet too financially AND mentally unstable to excuse going Ou back to school. I am a singer/musician... I play in dark, smelly bars & drink whiskey til I black out. I suffer from PTSD. Somewhere in between '3 yrs ago' and 'today' I became a shell of what I once was. I want that person -that amazing and capable person- back.
I was approached by a man at a gig I was playing, he asked me to sing a Patsy Cline song. I did, he tipped me. That was that. For the next three weeks... he did that same. One night, he got drunk enough to say more than those few words to me & asked if I'd sit with him. I told him he wasn't my type & wrote it off. He seemed offended by my bluntness but it is a quality id never regretted exhibiting until he came along.
That night I left the bar alone, as I always did. He followed me. I didn't see him back there, didn't know the man or what kind of car he drove So I wouldn't have thought to look. Now I can't go anywhere without looking over my shoulder.... but then... I just didn't. I got home, grabbed my swim suit & left again. Went for a swim at a friends house a few blocks up the road. When I returned. My door was slightly ajar & there was a foot print near the door knob. Even at this point I didn't think anything of it aside from 'how strange...' I push the door open and realize the frame is cracked, and it'd been kicked in. I notice right away my guitar (my most prized possession) was gone. I ran into the back room hoping it'd be there, it wasn't, my electric was gone too.
Just as it began to sink in, what was happening, I realized I wasn't alone in the room. There he was, the man from the bar, holding my guitar, like he was about to play it. He told me to sit down. As I did, I looked around and began to notice other things that were missing. Also, empty beer cans everywhere. He'd been drinking while he waited for me. I freaked. Stood up and made a dash for the door, my feet get tangled in some dirty laundry I had spread across the floor & it didn't matter much anyhow because he'd thrown my guitar down and slammed the door shut before I'd even hit the ground. He yanked me up by my arm and shoved me down on the bed. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and put his hand around my neck, hard.
He started crying & asked why I was doing this. He said I was killing him and he knew I liked it. He raped me. Then he grabbed my guitar and started to play a song... he starting singing and I started to cry. He stopped playing and asked me not to cry, he came over and tried to kiss me and when I turned away he punched a hole through the wall. Said I was being difficult. He became outraged and yanked me outta bed and began throwing me around the room, kicked me a few times. He was crying and screaming all at once, I thought he was gonna kill me. He pushed me into the closet and pressed himself into me real hard. He held his hands around my neck until I stopped fighting him, then he hit me one more time, this time in the face, and then dropped me. He slammed the door, shutting me into the closet... took both my guitars and a few other things, and left. It took the police 9 long days to find him.
He turned out to be a 19 year old first offender & after a year of trial (in which my tox report and personal life was questioned and I was made to feel like I'd asked for it), he was sentenced to one year jail time, and ten yrs probation, community service and restitution. Hardly seems appropriate. I suppose he'd manage to convince the small time cops I was an addict and we'd been dating. I smoke pot and drink whiskey and all the bars in town knew me by name.
His lawyer said that the only proof of crime was the assault and the breaking and entering, and that beyond that it was a 'lovers quarrel.'
He took away from me, my confidence, my fearlessness, my sense of self worth... for a while, my love for music was even tainted. The song he'd sung me was all I could hear when I'd try to write something new. I dropped out of college because I couldn't even handle getting out of bed. I'd sleep with a couch up against the door for fear that he'd get out unexpectedly, & he would find me. I moved... a lot. 4 different states, 2 different countries...
I tried relationships but that's difficult. Intimacy is almost impossible for me. So much so, that I actually black out sometimes... I can't remember it. I'm rough during sex also, and can't achieve a climax without some sort of rough or dominating dynamic. I know that something is very wrong & yet I feel as if nothing can undo what's been done. There is no answer... and people keep telling me, I should talk about it so... there. I've told a bunch of strangers my painful story. I don't feel better. I feel like my friends and family, don't understand because, well quite frankly, how could they?
Anyhow, I don't expect a lot of you to read this whole thing. Or to have a lot to say. But if you find the words, and have the time... I'm up for any advice... words of wisdom or encouragement.... anything.
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