All the king's horses, and all the king's men...

Okay, so tonight I was having a simply giggly time with my sis-in-law Tish, when she asked me if I read her newest blog. I had not. I had been at her blog earlier tonight, before she posted her latest entry. I put her on hold, and went to read it. It simply moved me to tears. Be forewarned, it is not easy reading. It is not light, and giddy. It is not like my usual whiny, petty, self pitying bullshit. It is her life, as she lived it. Through the eyes of a child. With the soul of an adult. A scarred adult. (She titled her entries Innocence Lost, so far she has published four parts. Grab some tissue before you read it.) When I told her that I am sorry, that she should never have had to endure such atrocities, she responded that it is no big deal, and that she is a better person because of it. I told her that she is a scarred person because of it, that she is an amazing person despite it. I believe that with all my heart. You know, I will never understand the world in which men live, where they think it is okay to take whatever they want, however they have to get it, regardless of the cost to someone else. How can they live that way? I have done many things in my life of which I am not proud, but to hurt another human being in such a manner is beyond all my comprehension. To leave another person so damaged that all the king's horses, and all the king's men, could never put them together again...it just doesn't make any sense. Why? What desire could be so great? What urge so powerful that you could permanently destroy someones very soul? In all my life, I have yet to meet a woman, who has not been touched by some form of sexual assault. I myself have been the victim of numerous assaults on my body. From family members who "just fondled you, it is no big deal, it is not like I actually raped you".. (Yes, that was the response of one of them who I confronted when I became an adult.), to date rape ( I said yes to the date and accepted the drinks he bought so that meant I willing I guess..NOT.), to being raped by my boyfriend when I said no once in awhile (He would just hold me down and take what he wanted when he wanted it, I finally found the strength to leave.), and last but not least I was once slipped GHB, rohypnol, or ketamine in one of my drinks at the bar. My friends saw me leaving with a man I had known and been friendly with for four years. They thought nothing of it, they thought he was just driving me home, as he had done numerous times before. I remember waking up in some bed, being fucked by a man I had never even so much as held hands with. I remember my body feeling as though it was weighted down, as though no power in heaven or on earth could have made me move of my own accord. I remember crying, and wanting to scream, but all that would come was a whispered "No." I woke up the next day, sitting in the stairwell of my apartment building. I remember being sore, and bleeding. I just crawled into my apartment, and into the tub, and scrubbed myself until I was raw. I still wonder why. Why did this man think that was okay? This man who knew me, and knew that while I went to the bar and had a good time, I always went home alone, by choice. Who knew that I respected myself enough that I did not have one night stands. Why could he not also have respected me? He was a good looking man. Sexy and strong, and I had watched over the years as he fended off woman after woman, night after night. In all that time, he had never once indicated to me that he was in any way attracted to me. Oh, we had danced many a dance, and flirted the innocent flirts of friends, but he never once said that he wanted something more. So, I assume it was not about his wanting me, it was not about the sex itself, so what was it? That is what i do not get. What is the pull of having someone completely at your mercy? What is the draw? I never reported any of these acts of hate against me to the authorities. I was, for years, embarrassed and ashamed, thinking that I must have done something to cause these offences against me. I now know better. I was not made a better person by these acts of theft against my soul. They left no battle wounds that I wear proudly. But they have left me scarred. Each in their own unique way. But despite that I go on, as do so many of the brave and strong women I have known in my life. And each day that I can love the fierce love I own, each time that I make love to a man of my choice, I reclaim a small piece of myself. See, I may be scarred, but I have not been beaten. I give the shame of these acts back to the men who deserve it. I claim my freedom. And I hope in time, that Tish too, will see what I see when I look at her. A woman of great strength and beauty. A woman who is beating the odds. A woman whose love is fierce, and tender. A woman who struggles, but will not speak the word defeat. A woman I am proud to call my friend. That's all, Goodnight.