Trigger warning: This post discusses suicide, rape, and child molestation.
I started crying an hour ago, and every few minutes my chest tightens and I feel like dying. I already took a xanax, I’m trying to distract myself but my brain keeps rolling the words around. I actually want to die so that I never think of it again. I’m not a suicidal person, but I can’t get out of this mental trap to remember all the reasons I don’t usually agree with suicide. This hurts too much, and I don’t know how to deal with it or what to do with it to make it just stop.
So there’s the nonsensical part of whats going on. It started with me catching up with whats going on in the world. I headed to one of my favourite news sites, Huffington Post, and soon was lost in a series of tabs I had opened of articles that looked interesting. Something on the sidebar kept catching my eye. I knew I shouldn’t read it, that it would just piss me off. No matter what I read it was still there, so I gave in. I would just be irritated, I would be fine. Maybe I’ll read that article about Firefly after.
The article discusses the judge who sentenced a 49 year old rapist to 30 days in jail. He explains how the 14 year old girl (who committed suicide in 2010, before her 17th birthday) was cognitively older than her physical age, so she may not have consented, but it wasn’t that bad. She was “as much in control of the situation as he was”. She wasn’t forcibly brutally raped after all. It even happened several times, so what was the big deal?
Quote: “Obviously, a 14-year-old can’t consent. I think that people have in mind that this was some violent, forcible, horrible rape,” Baugh told the Billings Gazette. “It was horrible enough as it is just given her age, but it wasn’t this forcible beat-up rape.”
I kept reading those same lines over and over. Why? Twenty two years ago a judge could have said the same thing about me. The judge could have said that about my little sisters. We weren’t beaten, we weren’t threatened. We were manipulated, mentally screwed up until we didn’t know what was happening was even wrong. By the time we were old enough to figure it out (I was around 8 then), it wouldn’t stop. I asked to not have it happen anymore. I was made to feel bad, like it was my job, because my parents were poor, and didn’t pay him to babysit. We were the payment. Besides, it wasn’t so bad, right? No one was beating me up after all. We were friends, right? Three years passed. One day at school one of my sisters said something to a teacher. The teacher called our parents, who asked us. I remember everything from that conversation. How upset my mom was, how furious my dad was. From that moment on, we were saved, safe, from him at least.
We were too young to be at the trial, but we did go through questioning. I know the sentencing details. I know when he gets out of jail, and that he is supposed to be extradited to another state to stand trial, because we had lived in Hawaii as well as Arizona during that 6 year time. I know his son tried to rape me when I was 10, but he has never gone to jail, and likely never will. I know his family supports him, including his father and grandfather who taught him how “fun” children can be.
I was molested, I was raped. It wasn’t brutal, forcible rape. So I’m lucky right? Maybe I was just so advanced for my age when it started (I was 5), that I could consent, at least to that judges opinion. I must have kept consenting, since I let it happen so long. I know this isn’t true. I know that it’s not my fault, and any sane person I’ve talked to would agree. But here is this person, a judge, hell, he could have been the judge on my case, saying that it was my fault.
On a normal day, I don’t think about any of this. Twenty two years and I can’t let myself. I can’t deal with it because I’m afraid of falling apart. What if I do that and can’t put myself back together? I’ve been to every kind of counseling, on medications, and the best I can do is keep it locked up inside. This one thing, one persons opinion, one that can have legal repercussions to similar cases, opens it up and tonight I break. I’ll be better tomorrow. Tonight I’m afraid to sleep, I’m afraid of dreaming.