domestic–doll:

So today has been kinda crazy for me. After reading @that-brainy-bimbo‘s post earlier, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. She is someone I admire greatly and I didn’t expect someone that tough and strong would have a past like that. But that kinda thinking is part of the problem. Because strength and intelligence and confidence have nothing to do with abuse and manipulation. Because it makes girls who think that this kinda thing could never happen to them easy prey. Because if it does happen, girls like that won’t admit it to themselves, in fear of seeming weak or stupid. Because even after everything is over they’ll avoid thinking or talking about it, because that’s what makes it real. And tough girls don’t get taken advantage of, smart girls don’t let anyone manipulate their thoughts, strong girls wouldn’t allow anything like that to happen. But that’s crap and I know because I used to think that I was too smart and strong to be a victim, because I ignored it when it happened and because it’s still so, so hard for me to admit that I let someone treat me like that. So if me talking about things can make an impact then I’ll gladly do it, to help others realize that this can happen to anyone, no matter if you have mental health issues or not, or a great support network, or a Master’s degree in psychology.

As a lot of you may know I was in a long distance relationship for a few years. It ended quite some time ago but I’m still heavily affected by the negative impact it left in my life. The thing I still struggle to accept is the fact that I was raped. And that I wasn’t allowed to work through that, because I was told it was my fault. And I believed it. 

In spring of 2015 we’d been in a relationship for quite a while but hadn’t met in person. I was at a party with some of my friends and got very drunk. This guy offered me a joint which I was more than willing to accept. It seemed odd to me that he didn’t join me and my friend while we were smoking it but tbh I didn’t really care. After that things get blurry. Now I know I was drugged with something because I know what I’m like when I smoke weed and I know what I’m like when I drink and how I felt wasn’t even close to either of those things. I had zero control over myself and couldn’t think straight. Now like I said, I don’t remember much of that night. I don’t remember going to the bathroom with the guy who gave me the joint, maybe I suggested it, maybe I just followed along. I know I told him I was into being dominated and into pain. At this point I had never experienced anything BDSM related with another person. I was insanely eager to try it which is one of the things that later led me to believe what happened next was my fault. He beat me up and raped me, I remember getting slapped so hard my head was cracked against a wall and another one sent me to the floor. I remember having him in my mouth and getting yelled at, I don’t remember the words though.

When I woke up the next morning I felt sick to my stomach. My whole body hurt and I could taste blood in my mouth, it was cut pretty badly on the inside. I went outside and smoked a cigarette when my friend came and asked me if I was okay. That she’d heard weird noises coming from the bathroom and that when she knocked at the door I told her everything was okay. I have no memory of that but it was pretty clear to me that that must’ve meant I was a willing participant at the time. The thought that I was raped was so absurd to me. I felt awful and I told my partner. He was furious and disgusted but not because of what happened to me. He was angry because I had cheated on him, because I got drunk, because I hurt him. And I believed him when he said I must’ve done it on purpose, that if I really didn’t enjoy it I could’ve just walked away. That I was a slut and selfish and disgusting. He didn’t let me shower when I got home. I was absolutely petrified because I thought I’d destroyed our relationship. I begged and apologized and he told me he would try to get over it. I wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol and even wasn’t allowed to go to parties for a while. I thought it was appropriate punishment for what I did. And that he was amazing for forgiving me. It was something he used against me in fights afterwards, blaming me for destroying his trust, justifying going behind my back and keeping other girls around by the fact that I cheated on him with a random guy at a party. That I’d be stupid enough to throw away a great guy for a quick fuck. And I believed all of that. I thought maybe I was too eager to try BDSM, too drunk, should’ve seen the warning signs early on. Should’ve said no. Shouldn’t even have gone to a party. Now that the relationship has been over for a while I can start to see what I pushed down. The feeling of being paralyzed while someone breaks down every wall you have. Being violated, being hurt. He told me I was selfish because he wanted to be the first guy to bruise me and hurt me and I’d taken that away from him. I never allowed myself to grieve or feel sad because all I could feel was guilt and shame. And now I do all the things come flooding back to me. The pain, the bruises I had to hide and still felt every second of the day for weeks. The sickness I felt knowing that someone pushed himself on me, in me, without me being able to consent. He told me he’d thrown up in disgust when I told him about it. I didn’t allow myself to vomit because I felt like I didn’t have the right to feel sick. Not only was I raped, I wasn’t allowed to acknowledge it. Talk about it. Get help perhaps. I wasn’t allowed to grieve for the loss of that part of myself and only now am I starting to realize the extent of what happened to me. And that it did happen. And that it’s not my fault. I still struggle to come to terms with it, I still hesitate to call it rape because I feel like I don’t have the right. Because I didn’t fight back, because I was somehow an accomplice in my own violation. But this can happen to anyone and realizing that is so important. It’s why I’m writing about this. These are two pictures I took the next day, I’ve kept them and I was never sure why but I think I wanted to remind myself that what happened was real.

I’m sorry if all of this is a mess and horrible to read and it probably doesn’t make sense but I know that if I don’t speak up now I won’t do it at all. I’m crazy nervous about posting this but I hope it can be a wake up call for some people. I’m happy to answer questions but please don’t fetishize this post. I know my blog is about dark themes but this isn’t a hot fantasy I wanna sext about. 

love you all xoxo

Reblogging because a girl I follow has been quietly hurting for a long time, and the shit she’s gone through should be acknowledged.

Also reblogging because somehow, “don’t make your loved one’s sexual assault all about you” is a thing that has to actually be said to adult men from time to time.