Calm After the Storm

Although I am very tired. Still have many pain in my body. I feel I have come to a place where I can feel some pride.


As I view my childhood, I can now hold that time.

I see with tears in my eyes. I see and let my suffering flow out.

I can see with pride me letting go of my shame.

Shame that kept me silent until I could not form words even in my mind.

Shame that made me tidy away any evidence of abuse.

I cleared my bedding with blood, sweat and sperm on it.

Clearing out any pain that I felt in my body.

I cry and cry that I had to forget that I was a child.

I could not play without looking over my shoulder.

His presence was in me whether he was in the house or not. He was under my skin.

I did not want friends, for I fear they would see the badness in me.

I was terrified he would rape my friends.

I cry as I see me trying to find how to be a child.

Then I cry.

In the calm after the explosion of remembering, I do cry.

I let myself see I was a child.

It was never completely stolen from me.


Now I see with pride that I can say what I saw in the porn.

I do not always need to slam an iron door on those images.

I can say with pride I will and do face that fear.

I see women looking dead as men rammed into every hole they could find.

I see objects forced into women who are made to smile.

I see images of gang-rapes made into humour.

I saw cartoons children being raped.

I saw images of girls being screwed.

I saw so many images of S/M.

I am proud that I remember some of what I saw.

But always I feel a terrible blankness that what I remember is just the tip of the iceberg.

But I feel pride as I face my fear of hard-core porn.

I face it and fight to destroy it’s power.


I feel I have been through a massive rush of memories seeing the sexual violence I had outside of my family. This has overwhelmed me.

My pride is that I see that past without falling back into self-hatred and self-harm.

I have not got drunk.

I have not abused food.

I have not forced myself to stay awake.

I have not cut my arms.

Instead I have face my past in the eye. I have look straight at all that I had blanked out.

I open the door on how the men tortured me.

I look directly at their hate.

I have seen with a clear eye that they planned all the sexual violence that they did to me.

I see and hold how much damage they did to my mind and body.

I hold and cry that I was so near to death.

I cry that my best friend died through male violence.

I am proud that I survived that world.

I am proud that I kept my intelligence. Even when men try to beat and rape it out of me.

I am proud I still small spaces where I could give and feel love. As I was held by girlfriends I could briefly remember I was human.

I am proud I kept in contact with my grandmother. Then I could pretend I was normal.

I grieve that I lost my teenage years.

I was not safe enough for angst.

I could be vulnerable enough to be confused.

My growing pains were trashed as men raped me, beat me up and made me a sex doll.

I was not a teenager. It was stolen.

I cry for that time


I let pride into me now.

I am very proud of this blog.

I am proud that my truths are coming in a strong and vulnerable voice.

I am proud that I can say I have confusion. That I do not hide behind making a neat and tidy story.

I am proud I show the reality of the tortures that I had to live with.

I am very proud that others Survivors read my words and can feel a connection.

Survivors are my most important readers. Their belief and encouragement make me face my past and not run away.

I am proud that I face being call a liar and mad, and not given up.

No, it has made more determined to say my truths.

So, now I have space for calmness.

I will say

I am proud.


3 responses to “Calm After the Storm

  1. I know you barely know me, but you make me proud too – proud to know you, proud that I will be meeting you this summer, proud to be able to call you a sister in this ’cause’. Once again, thank you for sharing your words with us.


  2. You make me proud too R. Proud to know you and proud *of* you.

    This is a really difficult thing you’re doing – quite apart from your own internal process (which, godess knows, must be hard enough), you’re putting it all out here with such honesty, integrity and immense bravery. So many silent survivors will be gaining strength and affirmation from your writing.

    The ‘little girl’ you is apparent to me in your words when you write about her. She’s learning that you care about her – that we care about her. She won’t forget that.


  3. Yes, I’m proud of you too, Rebecca, and proud to know you. Especially proud that you didn’t pick up a drink as I, of all people, know how easy that is to do, to numb out. I’m so sad to hear about your best friend, because you have helped me so much with my own best friend who still has a foot in that door. I was so angry at her that I couldn’t get through and I started reading your blog and feeling the pain that we all share, and the other day I melted and met my best friend and we were once again like sisters. It was such a relief and so healing because I know nothing can replace someone who know everything about you and vice versa, especially when you’ve travelled through Hell together. Maybe one day she’ll feel good enough about herself to give the finger to all too. i hope so. So glad that you have, and I have. Let’s hope others get on board, especially my dearest friend. Pray for Anna. love to you, rebecca, you give more than you know xx


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