April 19, 2009
Stop the Silence of Child Sexual Abuse
Today, starting at 8:00 a.m., Eastern Time, they ran. They ran in Washington D.C. as part of the Race and Rally to Stop The Silence of Child Sexual Abuse. It was the sixth annual event and they're raising more funds and more awareness every year.
Here's a video about the event:
Now, I'm no runner. And--as much as I'd love to see those cherry blossoms this time of year-- I just couldn't get out to D.C. to go to this rally in person (I hope to some day). But, I'm raising awareness here, at the Child Abuse Survivor ning network and on Twitter. And there's still more that you can do TODAY for this event as well.
First off, check out StopCSA's website to learn more about the cause: As Stop CSA says, It's everyone's problem. For instance, did you know?
Here are some more links, stats, and photos and ways to get involved at the StopCSA site:
Please Note: Rainbow from Haunted House and Child Person from the South have already put up blog posts to Stop the Silence. If you post about it, let me know and I'll link to your blog post, too!
Update: Here are a couple more brave bloggers who submitted posts to Stop the Silence: Mom Writes for a Cause and The Filipina Mom in Denmark. Thanks for your contributions!
If child sexual abuse is everyone's problem, then everyone can also be part of the solution!
Here's a video about the event:
Now, I'm no runner. And--as much as I'd love to see those cherry blossoms this time of year-- I just couldn't get out to D.C. to go to this rally in person (I hope to some day). But, I'm raising awareness here, at the Child Abuse Survivor ning network and on Twitter. And there's still more that you can do TODAY for this event as well.
First off, check out StopCSA's website to learn more about the cause: As Stop CSA says, It's everyone's problem. For instance, did you know?
- 73 percent of prostitutes were sexually abused before the age of 16;
- 83 percent of convicted killers (men and women) were physically and emotionally abused as children, and 32.2 percent were sexually abused;
- 60 percent of teenage mothers were sexually abused as children;
- 43 percent of runaways are sexually abused
Here are some more links, stats, and photos and ways to get involved at the StopCSA site:
- For stats and info on mental health-related problems, substance abuse issues and prevalence in the general population click the "The Cause: Child Sexual Abuse" page.
- If you are a survivor of CSA and you want to tell some of your story and share your photo on their web site, please check out StopCSA's "A Call to Action to Survivors" page.
- If you'd like to read an example of what one survivor had to share, go to the "A Survivor Speaks Out" page.
- If you'd like to view a beautiful slide show of survivors click here.
- Click here: to make a secure donation through Paypal.
- If you'd rather make a purchase with proceeds going to StopCSA, visit the online mall here.
Please Note: Rainbow from Haunted House and Child Person from the South have already put up blog posts to Stop the Silence. If you post about it, let me know and I'll link to your blog post, too!
Update: Here are a couple more brave bloggers who submitted posts to Stop the Silence: Mom Writes for a Cause and The Filipina Mom in Denmark. Thanks for your contributions!
If child sexual abuse is everyone's problem, then everyone can also be part of the solution!
Labels: abuse, advocacy, awareness, Bloggers Unite, breaking the cycle, childhood sexual abuse, network, rape, sexual abuse survivors, sexual violence, Twitter
April 03, 2008
Blog Against Sexual Violence: The Link to Child Sexual Abuse
My body knew it before my mind could accept it. Long before I retrieved repressed memories of childhood sexual abuse, my body knew all about it. My body knew I was a victim. My rapist knew it, too.
Today is Blog Against Sexual Violence Day. I'm under the weather, but I did not want to miss posting on this important, awareness-raising day. I usually spend most of my time raising awareness about child abuse, and more specifically, child sexual abuse. I'm the founder of, and continue to maintain, The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, which travels around the blogosphere and will be stopping at Beautiful Dreamer's blog this month. (Why don't you join us?)
I firmly believe that preventing child sexual abuse goes hand-in-hand in preventing all forms of sexual violence, and vice versa. I feel these forms of abuse and violence are intertwined in a most grotesque way.
I certainly am convinced that my childhood sexual abuse set me up for the acquaintance rape I experienced in college. This is part of my story. Please be careful when reading, as it may be disturbing and/or triggering.
Did any of you have a "big brother" in college? I'm not talking about The Big Brothers Big Sisters Youth Mentoring Program. This was something that was a collaboration between my college sorority and a campus fraternity. When I was a sorority pledge, I got "set up" with this fraternity guy who was supposed to be a supportive "big brother" figure.
I got to know my "big brother" fairly well. I trusted him and considered him a friend.
We attended his fraternity's spring formal one year “just as friends.” When my “friend” wanted to have sex after the dance, I broke down in tears and explained that I couldn't participate because I was still so heart-broken over a recent breakup. I did not have the assertiveness back then to say no, just because I didn't want to have sex. I felt compelled to come up with some excuse and make the guy feel sorry for me. I guess, because he knew my old boyfriend, he pretended to be understanding at the time.
Later, it was a different story. There was a party at the fraternity house of my “friend.” At one point, we went into his room. We’d been in there many times and I was not afraid or suspecting of anything.
We were sitting on his bed talking when suddenly he was on top of me. I said no, cried and tried to turn away. But, he pinned my arms down. I have always felt guilty because I did not scream out or struggle very hard. I think my CSA groomed me to stay quiet and realize that struggling was futile. Some days after the party, when I told my sister about the incident, she was the one who pointed out that my arms had been pinned down and I had, indeed, been raped.
I believe that this collegiate predator could easily see that I had "victim" stamped all over me. I also am sure that, even if my mind wasn't conscious of it, my body knew quite well that fight or flight was not possible--freezing was the only way to survive. (My incest experience included rape, also with my arms pinned.) I don't have any conscious memory of this part of the ordeal, but I'm sure--as dissociative as I now know myself to be--I moved as if in a trance when it was over. I'm certain that I silently pulled my pants back up, pulled myself back together as best I could, and simply walked out his door. I never spoke to this young man again.
I'm sure that he was sure I would never report the rape.
I now know that this period of my life was not nearly as damaging and tortuous as my childhood. Yet it was quite traumatic for me. During this time I became pregnant. I came very close to telling my old boyfriend of my condition. I had him on the phone once but couldn’t reveal my secret. I did not know who the father of the child was. I didn’t tell my ex because I still loved him (even if he didn't love me) and I didn’t want to trap him with a child who may not have been his. I decided to get an abortion instead. This added to my trauma.
Indeed, I never did report the rape. I didn’t speak of it again for another decade.
I think I then made the subconscious decision to stick like glue to any man who would finally admit to loving me. That man became my first husband. He was only physically abusive toward me once. It was when we were separated, before our divorce. In a fit of anger, he grabbed me by the arm and threw me to the floor.
During our brief marriage, my mate did many odd things that made me uncomfortable. What drove me crazy was his habit of following me around our small apartment. He often spied on me while I was in the shower. One time, I was coming out of the bathroom after a shower wearing only a towel. I was ambushed by my ex who jumped out at me and snatched my towel away. He pushed me onto the bed and snapped a Polaroid picture of me sprawled there naked with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on my face.
During my young adult years following college, my self-esteem was critically low. Yet, by the time of my divorce, something started to shift in my mind. A tiny spark of self-confidence told me I had rights and deserved better. I never used the term “abuse,” however. Although I was taking steps to that effect, I never thought or stated, “Nobody will ever abuse me again.”
One of those essential steps was quitting my first big job that I thought was leading to a successful career. I had been working at an advertising agency where one of the higher-ups sexually harassed me time and again. I did not sleep my way to the top, but worked hard and got promoted there three times. Despite the promotions and the agency paying my way toward a Master’s degree, I decided to leave.
Maybe I just got fed up; within a year, I quit my job in the sexual harassment environment and got divorced. I never did finish my Master’s, but I never allowed anyone to ever abuse me again, either.
My greatest wish is for all children to grow up with a healthy sense of self-esteem and appropriate boundaries. No one should have to wait until their 20's 30's or 40's--after rape, abortion, sexual harassment and/or an abusive spouse--to decide they don't deserve sexual abuse. No one should feel they must silently endure rape, sexual harassment, or sexual abuse of any kind from anyone--not a boss, a "friend" or a spouse--no one!
Let us never let up on our determination to spread awareness about all forms of sexual violence. Let us never give up on our goal of advocacy for survivors and abuse prevention. Let us all keep up the good fight! Onward, brave warriors all!
Today is Blog Against Sexual Violence Day. I'm under the weather, but I did not want to miss posting on this important, awareness-raising day. I usually spend most of my time raising awareness about child abuse, and more specifically, child sexual abuse. I'm the founder of, and continue to maintain, The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, which travels around the blogosphere and will be stopping at Beautiful Dreamer's blog this month. (Why don't you join us?)
I firmly believe that preventing child sexual abuse goes hand-in-hand in preventing all forms of sexual violence, and vice versa. I feel these forms of abuse and violence are intertwined in a most grotesque way.
I certainly am convinced that my childhood sexual abuse set me up for the acquaintance rape I experienced in college. This is part of my story. Please be careful when reading, as it may be disturbing and/or triggering.
Did any of you have a "big brother" in college? I'm not talking about The Big Brothers Big Sisters Youth Mentoring Program. This was something that was a collaboration between my college sorority and a campus fraternity. When I was a sorority pledge, I got "set up" with this fraternity guy who was supposed to be a supportive "big brother" figure.
I got to know my "big brother" fairly well. I trusted him and considered him a friend.
We attended his fraternity's spring formal one year “just as friends.” When my “friend” wanted to have sex after the dance, I broke down in tears and explained that I couldn't participate because I was still so heart-broken over a recent breakup. I did not have the assertiveness back then to say no, just because I didn't want to have sex. I felt compelled to come up with some excuse and make the guy feel sorry for me. I guess, because he knew my old boyfriend, he pretended to be understanding at the time.
Later, it was a different story. There was a party at the fraternity house of my “friend.” At one point, we went into his room. We’d been in there many times and I was not afraid or suspecting of anything.
We were sitting on his bed talking when suddenly he was on top of me. I said no, cried and tried to turn away. But, he pinned my arms down. I have always felt guilty because I did not scream out or struggle very hard. I think my CSA groomed me to stay quiet and realize that struggling was futile. Some days after the party, when I told my sister about the incident, she was the one who pointed out that my arms had been pinned down and I had, indeed, been raped.
I believe that this collegiate predator could easily see that I had "victim" stamped all over me. I also am sure that, even if my mind wasn't conscious of it, my body knew quite well that fight or flight was not possible--freezing was the only way to survive. (My incest experience included rape, also with my arms pinned.) I don't have any conscious memory of this part of the ordeal, but I'm sure--as dissociative as I now know myself to be--I moved as if in a trance when it was over. I'm certain that I silently pulled my pants back up, pulled myself back together as best I could, and simply walked out his door. I never spoke to this young man again.
I'm sure that he was sure I would never report the rape.
I now know that this period of my life was not nearly as damaging and tortuous as my childhood. Yet it was quite traumatic for me. During this time I became pregnant. I came very close to telling my old boyfriend of my condition. I had him on the phone once but couldn’t reveal my secret. I did not know who the father of the child was. I didn’t tell my ex because I still loved him (even if he didn't love me) and I didn’t want to trap him with a child who may not have been his. I decided to get an abortion instead. This added to my trauma.
Indeed, I never did report the rape. I didn’t speak of it again for another decade.
I think I then made the subconscious decision to stick like glue to any man who would finally admit to loving me. That man became my first husband. He was only physically abusive toward me once. It was when we were separated, before our divorce. In a fit of anger, he grabbed me by the arm and threw me to the floor.
During our brief marriage, my mate did many odd things that made me uncomfortable. What drove me crazy was his habit of following me around our small apartment. He often spied on me while I was in the shower. One time, I was coming out of the bathroom after a shower wearing only a towel. I was ambushed by my ex who jumped out at me and snatched my towel away. He pushed me onto the bed and snapped a Polaroid picture of me sprawled there naked with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on my face.
During my young adult years following college, my self-esteem was critically low. Yet, by the time of my divorce, something started to shift in my mind. A tiny spark of self-confidence told me I had rights and deserved better. I never used the term “abuse,” however. Although I was taking steps to that effect, I never thought or stated, “Nobody will ever abuse me again.”
One of those essential steps was quitting my first big job that I thought was leading to a successful career. I had been working at an advertising agency where one of the higher-ups sexually harassed me time and again. I did not sleep my way to the top, but worked hard and got promoted there three times. Despite the promotions and the agency paying my way toward a Master’s degree, I decided to leave.
Maybe I just got fed up; within a year, I quit my job in the sexual harassment environment and got divorced. I never did finish my Master’s, but I never allowed anyone to ever abuse me again, either.
My greatest wish is for all children to grow up with a healthy sense of self-esteem and appropriate boundaries. No one should have to wait until their 20's 30's or 40's--after rape, abortion, sexual harassment and/or an abusive spouse--to decide they don't deserve sexual abuse. No one should feel they must silently endure rape, sexual harassment, or sexual abuse of any kind from anyone--not a boss, a "friend" or a spouse--no one!
Let us never let up on our determination to spread awareness about all forms of sexual violence. Let us never give up on our goal of advocacy for survivors and abuse prevention. Let us all keep up the good fight! Onward, brave warriors all!
Labels: acquaintance rape, Blog Against Sexual Violence, child abuse prevention, childhood sexual abuse, freeze response, rape, sexual harassment, spousal sexual abuse, victims
April 10, 2007
Shattering the Silence of Sexual Violence
"Shattering the Silence of Sexual Violence." Doesn't that have a great awareness-raising ring to it? I can't take credit for it; it's part of the title for a weekend-long event coming up as part of this month--April--being Sexual Assault Awareness Month (SAAM).
As usual, when I just feel too overwhelmed with my personal healing issues to even make written sense of it, I like to at least put up a post that raises awareness. So, this post is dedicated to SAAM.
Since I'm from Chicago, this SAAM project caught my eye: It's the "Art of Awareness: Shattering the Silence of Sexual Violence" event organized by the Chicago Alliance Against Sexual Exploitation (CAASE). There will be a film festival, art, poetry and music at various downtown Chicago locations April 13th through the 15th. Info is at www.caase.org. CAASE is also involved in a community art project that introduces a new spin on the awareness bracelet--it's called The Binding Project. Info is at www.bindingproject.com.
At least I'll have this up, if I don't get around to organizing an edition of The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse this month. I've got a host lined up for May, so it will eventually hit the road again. Anybody out there feel up to squeezing in a host on your blog for April?
As usual, when I just feel too overwhelmed with my personal healing issues to even make written sense of it, I like to at least put up a post that raises awareness. So, this post is dedicated to SAAM.
Since I'm from Chicago, this SAAM project caught my eye: It's the "Art of Awareness: Shattering the Silence of Sexual Violence" event organized by the Chicago Alliance Against Sexual Exploitation (CAASE). There will be a film festival, art, poetry and music at various downtown Chicago locations April 13th through the 15th. Info is at www.caase.org. CAASE is also involved in a community art project that introduces a new spin on the awareness bracelet--it's called The Binding Project. Info is at www.bindingproject.com.
At least I'll have this up, if I don't get around to organizing an edition of The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse this month. I've got a host lined up for May, so it will eventually hit the road again. Anybody out there feel up to squeezing in a host on your blog for April?
Labels: awareness, Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, rape, sexual violence
June 24, 2006
How Does One Retrieve Repressed Memories of Abuse?
For a long time, I've resisted the urge to write any kind of introduction for my book. I know it's a common problem for writers to get hung up there, editing and revising, and have difficulty progressing with the story. What I've done is skip around. I've gotten a lot written by not spending too much time in any one prescribed area.
I did, however, recently take a stab at a lead-in of sorts for my story of retrieving repressed memories of childhood sexual abuse (CSA). It's interesting how clueless I was for such a very long time.
I can tell you when the dam broke and the full force of the PTSD flood of my post-traumatic stress disorder came bursting forth (that story is for another time). But, it's harder to say when the cracks first appeared and I started being conscious of the repressed memories of my CSA.
It definitely was not as early on as high school, although the sexual assaults had ended some seven or eight years prior. No, in high school I thought I was a virgin. I told my boyfriends I wanted to stay that way.
The truth was, I wasn't so much waiting for my true love as I was simply petrified with fear of sex. I had my first real boyfriend at age 15. That's when I got my first real kiss. It felt like I had melted. That first kiss was so romantic. I loved the kiss, but I wanted nothing to do with going any further.
Later, there was another boy who was quite stimulating to my hormone-charged teenage self. But, my excitement frightened me. His excitement frightened me even more.
We got terribly close to "going all the way" once. I stopped it at the last possible moment. In a total panic, I managed to squeak out, "Let's not do anything too heavy." I couldn't bring myself to utter the word, "sex." At that point in time, the only clothing that remained on my body was my mint green bikini panties.
It's still amazing to me that this young man stopped. He didn't even call me a tease. I'll be forever grateful to him for that. Once he went off to college, I assume he began an active sex life. He left me behind in high school and left me alone with my chastity.
I lost many boyfriends during those high school years because I wouldn't "put out." I never went to the prom. In many ways, I didn't care. My fear was too great a hurdle for me to clear for any boy. I didn't know why I was so afraid, really. The fear was a powerful force that I was not willing to examine at the time.
I still had no clue about my CSA survivor status as I entered college. I remained chaste and got excellent grades during my freshman year.
During my sophomore year, I joined a sorority and my social life expanded. That's when I met the first love of my life. I was crazy in love and did not question the inevitability that we would have sex.
I still think of this lost love often. I believe I would remain drawn to him if I met up with him again today.
While I loved this young man and gave my body freely to him, I don't have many memories of our sex life. I'm reasonably sure that we made love with the lights off and that I lay beneath him with my eyes closed.
He never complained. He never committed either. I guess you could say that he broke my heart. When he broke off our relationship to date others, I was devastated.
Prior to the break-up, after we had just made love, I told him, "I love you." I got no response. Though he wouldn't commit, wouldn't say he loved me and wanted to date others, I was slow to give up on the relationship. I was desperately in love and couldn't let go. My sorority's spring formal dance was coming up and I begged the guy who had dumped me to go with me anyway. I guess I didn't want to miss the prom again. He did not take me to his fraternity's spring dance; he took someone else. Yet, I happily took him to my formal and, of course, we had sex after the dancing.
During this period of my dissociated devastation, I swung from one end of the sex spectrum to the other. I got stoned and had casual sex with a guy I barely knew. Then I went with another fraternity guy to his spring formal "just as friends." When my "friend" wanted to have sex, I broke down in tears and explained that I couldn't participate because I was still so heart-broken over the breakup with my boyfriend. I guess, because he knew my old boyfriend, he pretended to be understanding at the time.
Later, it was a different story. There was a party at the fraternity house of my "friend." At one point, we went into his room. We'd been in there many times and I was not afraid or suspecting of anything.
We were sitting on his bed talking when suddenly he was on top of me. I said no, cried and tried to turn away. But, he pinned my arms down. I have always felt guilty because I did not scream out or struggle very hard. I think my CSA groomed me to stay quiet and realize that struggling was futile. Some days after the party, when I told my sister about the incident, she was the one who pointed out that my arms had been pinned down and I had, indeed, been raped.
I now know that this period of my life was not nearly as damaging and tortuous as my childhood. Yet it was quite traumatic for me. During this time I became pregnant. I came very close to telling my old boyfriend of my condition. I had him on the phone once but couldn't reveal my secret. I did not know who the father of the child was. I didn't tell my ex because I still loved him and I didn't want to trap him with a child who may not have been his. I decided to get an abortion instead. This added to my trauma.
I never reported the rape. I didn't speak of it again for another decade.
I think I then made the subconscious decision to stick like glue to any man who would finally admit to loving me. That man became my first husband. He was only physically abusive toward me once. It was when we were separated, before our divorce. In a fit of anger, he grabbed me by the arm and threw me to the floor.
During our brief marriage, my mate did many odd things that made me uncomfortable. What drove me crazy was his habit of following me around our small apartment. He often spied on me while I was in the shower. One time, I was coming out of the bathroom after showering wearing only a towel. I was ambushed by my ex who jumped out at me and snatched my towel away. He pushed me onto the bed and snapped a Polaroid picture of me sprawled there naked with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on my face.
During my young adult years following college, my self-esteem was critically low. Hell, I think it had been at this critical depth since about the time I was in junior high. Yet, by the time of my divorce, something started to shift in my mind. A tiny spark of self-confidence told me I had rights and deserved better. I never used the term "abuse." Although I was taking steps to that effect, I never thought or stated, "Nobody will ever abuse me again."
One of those essential steps was quitting my first big job that I thought was leading to a successful career. I had been working at an advertising agency where one of the higher-ups sexually harassed me time and again. I did not sleep my way to the top, but worked hard and got promoted there three times. Despite the promotions and the agency paying my way toward a Master's degree, I decided to leave.
Maybe I just got fed up; within a year, I quit my job in the sexual harassment environment and got divorced. I never did finish my Master's, but I never allowed anyone to ever abuse me again, either.
Copyright 2006 by Marj McCabe. All Rights Reserved.
I did, however, recently take a stab at a lead-in of sorts for my story of retrieving repressed memories of childhood sexual abuse (CSA). It's interesting how clueless I was for such a very long time.
I can tell you when the dam broke and the full force of the PTSD flood of my post-traumatic stress disorder came bursting forth (that story is for another time). But, it's harder to say when the cracks first appeared and I started being conscious of the repressed memories of my CSA.
It definitely was not as early on as high school, although the sexual assaults had ended some seven or eight years prior. No, in high school I thought I was a virgin. I told my boyfriends I wanted to stay that way.
The truth was, I wasn't so much waiting for my true love as I was simply petrified with fear of sex. I had my first real boyfriend at age 15. That's when I got my first real kiss. It felt like I had melted. That first kiss was so romantic. I loved the kiss, but I wanted nothing to do with going any further.
Later, there was another boy who was quite stimulating to my hormone-charged teenage self. But, my excitement frightened me. His excitement frightened me even more.
We got terribly close to "going all the way" once. I stopped it at the last possible moment. In a total panic, I managed to squeak out, "Let's not do anything too heavy." I couldn't bring myself to utter the word, "sex." At that point in time, the only clothing that remained on my body was my mint green bikini panties.
It's still amazing to me that this young man stopped. He didn't even call me a tease. I'll be forever grateful to him for that. Once he went off to college, I assume he began an active sex life. He left me behind in high school and left me alone with my chastity.
I lost many boyfriends during those high school years because I wouldn't "put out." I never went to the prom. In many ways, I didn't care. My fear was too great a hurdle for me to clear for any boy. I didn't know why I was so afraid, really. The fear was a powerful force that I was not willing to examine at the time.
I still had no clue about my CSA survivor status as I entered college. I remained chaste and got excellent grades during my freshman year.
During my sophomore year, I joined a sorority and my social life expanded. That's when I met the first love of my life. I was crazy in love and did not question the inevitability that we would have sex.
I still think of this lost love often. I believe I would remain drawn to him if I met up with him again today.
While I loved this young man and gave my body freely to him, I don't have many memories of our sex life. I'm reasonably sure that we made love with the lights off and that I lay beneath him with my eyes closed.
He never complained. He never committed either. I guess you could say that he broke my heart. When he broke off our relationship to date others, I was devastated.
Prior to the break-up, after we had just made love, I told him, "I love you." I got no response. Though he wouldn't commit, wouldn't say he loved me and wanted to date others, I was slow to give up on the relationship. I was desperately in love and couldn't let go. My sorority's spring formal dance was coming up and I begged the guy who had dumped me to go with me anyway. I guess I didn't want to miss the prom again. He did not take me to his fraternity's spring dance; he took someone else. Yet, I happily took him to my formal and, of course, we had sex after the dancing.
During this period of my dissociated devastation, I swung from one end of the sex spectrum to the other. I got stoned and had casual sex with a guy I barely knew. Then I went with another fraternity guy to his spring formal "just as friends." When my "friend" wanted to have sex, I broke down in tears and explained that I couldn't participate because I was still so heart-broken over the breakup with my boyfriend. I guess, because he knew my old boyfriend, he pretended to be understanding at the time.
Later, it was a different story. There was a party at the fraternity house of my "friend." At one point, we went into his room. We'd been in there many times and I was not afraid or suspecting of anything.
We were sitting on his bed talking when suddenly he was on top of me. I said no, cried and tried to turn away. But, he pinned my arms down. I have always felt guilty because I did not scream out or struggle very hard. I think my CSA groomed me to stay quiet and realize that struggling was futile. Some days after the party, when I told my sister about the incident, she was the one who pointed out that my arms had been pinned down and I had, indeed, been raped.
I now know that this period of my life was not nearly as damaging and tortuous as my childhood. Yet it was quite traumatic for me. During this time I became pregnant. I came very close to telling my old boyfriend of my condition. I had him on the phone once but couldn't reveal my secret. I did not know who the father of the child was. I didn't tell my ex because I still loved him and I didn't want to trap him with a child who may not have been his. I decided to get an abortion instead. This added to my trauma.
I never reported the rape. I didn't speak of it again for another decade.
I think I then made the subconscious decision to stick like glue to any man who would finally admit to loving me. That man became my first husband. He was only physically abusive toward me once. It was when we were separated, before our divorce. In a fit of anger, he grabbed me by the arm and threw me to the floor.
During our brief marriage, my mate did many odd things that made me uncomfortable. What drove me crazy was his habit of following me around our small apartment. He often spied on me while I was in the shower. One time, I was coming out of the bathroom after showering wearing only a towel. I was ambushed by my ex who jumped out at me and snatched my towel away. He pushed me onto the bed and snapped a Polaroid picture of me sprawled there naked with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on my face.
During my young adult years following college, my self-esteem was critically low. Hell, I think it had been at this critical depth since about the time I was in junior high. Yet, by the time of my divorce, something started to shift in my mind. A tiny spark of self-confidence told me I had rights and deserved better. I never used the term "abuse." Although I was taking steps to that effect, I never thought or stated, "Nobody will ever abuse me again."
One of those essential steps was quitting my first big job that I thought was leading to a successful career. I had been working at an advertising agency where one of the higher-ups sexually harassed me time and again. I did not sleep my way to the top, but worked hard and got promoted there three times. Despite the promotions and the agency paying my way toward a Master's degree, I decided to leave.
Maybe I just got fed up; within a year, I quit my job in the sexual harassment environment and got divorced. I never did finish my Master's, but I never allowed anyone to ever abuse me again, either.
Copyright 2006 by Marj McCabe. All Rights Reserved.
Labels: abuse, acquaintance rape, aftermath, awareness, denial, freeze response, journey, physical abuse, PTSD, rape, sexual harassment, trauma, victims
April 06, 2006
A Day to End Sexual Violence
Still flailing around in the comment twilight zone. Sorry to all my fellow Blogger blog writers who I've tried to post comments on and failed (I haven't forgotten you!). Does anyone have any experience with or knowledge of Haloscan for comments? Any info would be greatly appreciated! Well, still in the meantime, I like to post whatever awareness-raising stuff I can so, here's some more Sexual Assault Awareness Month info.
Yes, April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. And today is "A Day To End Sexual Violence." Find out more about it at this link at the National Sexual Violence Resource Center website.
Yes, April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. And today is "A Day To End Sexual Violence." Find out more about it at this link at the National Sexual Violence Resource Center website.
Labels: assault, awareness, Blog Against Sexual Violence, rape, sexual violence
February 24, 2006
Survivor Links
I've been out of town, but I'm finally including some links on my blog. I kinda hate to bump the "Your Beauty" poem. I'd like every survivor out there to feel those words and believe in her inherent beauty. It's not surprising that a survivor of such an ugly crime as rape, sexual assault or incest can feel that he, himself, is ugly. My hope is that each survivor will regain her belief that she is precious, worthy and beautiful. I've gotten some good feedback on that poem and I appreciate that.
One comment came from survivor. I am very drawn to her blog. Her words move me. She is refreshingly honest and intimate with her readers. Her blog is called "My Story My Shame." I wish she'd lose the "my shame" part. That shame doesn't belong to her. It may have been projected onto her, but it is not hers. I can relate to where she is coming from, however; I felt like I carried the shame of my perpetrators for a very long time. Survivor's blog is one of the first permalinks I've installed.
I also got some helpful support for my poetry from a blogger named Kirk. His blog is the Recovery Vehicle. I found the vehicle to be a very helpful and attractive site. What I like most about Kirk, however, is his courage and his candor. He's got an abundance of both.
The other permanent link I got up right away is for Holly's Fight For Justice. I love this blog! It reminds me that, in this life, people can obtain rightful justice. Holly fought and fought and was able to bring her rapist--a serial rapist--to trial. He was convicted and sentenced to years in prison. Let's all exclaim together: YES!!! The amazing thing about Holly is that she has turned her personal fight into a fight for all who seek justice. She is very aware and provides much information for similar causes, crime victims and justice-seekers everywhere.
The research I'm doing to include additional blog links is a slow one. But, I'm glad to be doing it. The work I've put in to do this research has helped me uncover these wonderful gems. Please be patient while I dig up some more. If you want more links in the meantime, visit my website: www.survivorscanthrive.com. I've got a large resource section with many links there.
One comment came from survivor. I am very drawn to her blog. Her words move me. She is refreshingly honest and intimate with her readers. Her blog is called "My Story My Shame." I wish she'd lose the "my shame" part. That shame doesn't belong to her. It may have been projected onto her, but it is not hers. I can relate to where she is coming from, however; I felt like I carried the shame of my perpetrators for a very long time. Survivor's blog is one of the first permalinks I've installed.
I also got some helpful support for my poetry from a blogger named Kirk. His blog is the Recovery Vehicle. I found the vehicle to be a very helpful and attractive site. What I like most about Kirk, however, is his courage and his candor. He's got an abundance of both.
The other permanent link I got up right away is for Holly's Fight For Justice. I love this blog! It reminds me that, in this life, people can obtain rightful justice. Holly fought and fought and was able to bring her rapist--a serial rapist--to trial. He was convicted and sentenced to years in prison. Let's all exclaim together: YES!!! The amazing thing about Holly is that she has turned her personal fight into a fight for all who seek justice. She is very aware and provides much information for similar causes, crime victims and justice-seekers everywhere.
The research I'm doing to include additional blog links is a slow one. But, I'm glad to be doing it. The work I've put in to do this research has helped me uncover these wonderful gems. Please be patient while I dig up some more. If you want more links in the meantime, visit my website: www.survivorscanthrive.com. I've got a large resource section with many links there.
Labels: advocacy, awareness, community, links, Poetry, rape, sexual violence, survivors
