Unlearning

What I learned about sex would never be applicable. The things I thought about sex weren’t supposed to be taught. When I first got raped I still wasn’t old enough to drive, my mom unknowingly dropped me off for my inappropriate play date just a few weeks before I turned sixteen. That girl was definitely not ready to be thinking about sex, but he knew that, I had told him that I wasn’t ready. I had been dropped off at his house with his friends and him waiting for me inside. Since we were hoping for more privacy our small gang had left and gone to park out on a side row. With uneven numbers 4 of us had paired off into separate rows in the car and were making out. I had fooled around past kissing before but I had known that I was not ready for sex. In the moment with my clothes off I remember laying in the backseat of his car and I froze. My whole body had clenched so tight he couldn’t even really get his penis inside me. He had to use his hand to physically force its way into my body. That didn’t last really long before he overestimated his moves and he tried to get in again but was quite literally unable to shove it in no matter how hard he tried. I guess I’m thankful for his laziness because I came back and things didn’t last much longer after that. I remember that he had high fived his friend in the seat row in front of us while his friend was getting a blow job from some other girl willing to give more than she needed for some trashy loser that made themselves seem important like all teenage boys have always acted. It felt like that high five had sealed the deal that I could obviously never tell anyone because who would believe me? I still don’t know if I should consider them witnesses or accomplices to this crime.

If you know anything about me it is highly unlikely that you will catch me not talking. I started and have a constant stream of thoughts that my mouth still can’t keep up with. I had never been very good at keeping secrets because of this. I suddenly felt like I had the perfect reason to start keeping secrets and start keeping them fast. Even though I was young I had always had an honest view of things that kids normally didn’t have. I knew what happened to girls that cried wolf about things like this. My reputation would be ruined, I would be known as a liar or an attention whore, or just a regular whore. Growing up in northern Utah means that the LDS culture was heavily prevalent in choices of those around me but never felt like my priority. Even others around me, I felt like their actions were not cohesive with the teachings but they loved to talk about others without admitting their own wrongdoings. I couldn’t tell my mom because I couldn’t be honest that I was doing other things that she would not be proud of. So I stopped talking. To boys, to my mom, to my friends. I had something that could not get out. So I didn’t tell anyone for over a year. I wished I had someone to tell that wouldn’t take it too far. It needed to be a happy medium where they would listen but not worry, because worrying wouldn’t help me heal.

Eventually I told people and I'm grateful I did, but I remember wishing I had someone to talk to that would understand. It made me feel guilty, that I would wish that I knew someone else had experienced this. This weight that I carried, how could I wish that someone else was carrying that same burden as me just so I could feel less alone? Now as I learn more and more people that have had this same experience my guilt solidifies a little more. It’s something that becomes a part of you, like your eye color. To me it's crazy because how has it gotten to the point that there is a whole group of people that now have that label permanently embedded in their identity. It’s like a see through tattoo, the feelings permanently etched onto my skin but invisible to everyone around. I have met more and more people that share their empathy, and for that lonely 15 year old girl I’m grateful she's not alone, but for me now I wish they could just share their sympathy instead.

I had become rather avoidant in all areas of life but particularly with boys. I was regularly described as boy crazy but overnight that halted. I went a whole year without kissing anyone. I still think to this day that I had learned such an unhealthy picture and I still am learning what healthy looks like because I still learn more. I was incredibly hard on myself and had felt a lot of guilt but I had to learn that I had to give myself grace. I had been given a severe disadvantage. My first time was less than picture perfect rose pedals or with someone I loved, my first time had been taken. So instead of the normal places my peers got to learn about sex in safe productive ways I was trying to scrub any idea of what sex was. I had been exposed to something and instead of learning about what I liked I had been taught I had to accept what others wished. I thought to myself that at least that would never happen again. I had learned since I was younger and I knew how to protect myself. I had to learn later that even if you know how to protect yourself that still wasn’t enough to stop bad things from happening.

I was much older when I had experienced that same sinking feeling for a second time. I had met someone at work and he had asked to hang out. I was very uninterested from the beginning and had made that clear. We were watching a movie and I had specifically sat on the opposite end of the couch. And he scooted closer and put his arm around me. Then after the movie he kissed me, and he kissed me and I pulled away and said “this is as far as you're getting” then he said ok. We were kissing and he took my top off and I said for a second time “I am not kidding. This is as far as you are getting.” Then he proceeded to escalate things even further. I remember thinking, wow it doesn’t matter that I don’t want this to happen, it doesn’t even matter that I specifically told him that I didn’t want this, he is going to take it anyways. After he finished he turned to me and looked at me and said “I thought you said that was as far as I was getting”. Insanity right? You specifically stated the fact that you knew that I said no and now you’re bragging to me… that you had sex when I said I didn’t want you? He rolled over and fell asleep and I tip-toed out of my room and locked myself in another bedroom in the house. I waited until the next morning and texted him that I would be busy with some stuff I had scheduled and he could see himself out. I had waited til I heard the door close behind him and I went and locked it and immediately started sobbing. I took the longest hottest shower.

I learned from last time and told my friends and had people to lean on. I was grateful I wasn’t alone, but I couldn’t look at my friends and have them understand that if I could I would physically rip my skin off if that would help get this feeling to go away. I also couldn’t tell them that I had saved the trash can that he had thrown the condom away in. The garbage can was tucked under the sink so I took the bag out that day and saved it under the sink. I told myself I needed time to decide if I could see myself going to the police. It felt embarrassing and gross that I had saved that, and ultimately I ended up throwing it out because I still just felt like I would end up getting more disgrace than help. I refuse to keep his name a secret though and will not feel bad telling those around me what he did to me. Since then I learned that this is not the only story that people have heard about this same boy in similar situations with multiple girls, in fact I was told he has a reputation for it. This started a whole new shame spiral, if I could have been braver could I have saved someone from this person? If I had done the right thing would he have finally been held accountable for his actions? Could this have brought closure to people that I couldn’t have even imagined being affected by my choice? I still don’t feel like I want to list names publicly. I might have saved someone, but in reality why do I have to hold myself accountable for his actions, I have already been punished, why should I be making myself sick feeling guilty. What I can do is change how I approach these situations from now on, I can use my experience to hold others accountable for their decisions and you best believe if I ever get the chance, I will be the first in line to support him being put behind bars.