Had My Tears Stolen

Today is a very bad day. I usually write in the morning when my head is straight. But tonight with background of West Indies vs Australia cricket match, I feel I must write.

I am close to depression. For me, that is an empty feeling.

More I want to cry, and I can’t.

My tears were stolen by my abuse.

They were stolen by my mother’s neglect. I felt I had no love. I know I was not protected.

I should of been able to cry. But I know I can’t.

Why cry when it is ignored. Why cry when it is just seen as weak.

Tears went into my stomach and refused to come out.

But male violence made my tears disappear.

Being raped as a young girl, put too much shock in body for the tears to appear. They seemed almost pointless.

After in the wet bed, I had a shame I had no words for. I could not cry when it must be me being bad.

I think somewhere deep there was anger. My eyes watered with frustration, but no tears appeared.

After the first rape I know I was alone.

I lived with shock after shock. So many shocks that it slowly turned me into a robot.

Robots cannot cry.

Seeing porn froze all emotions. I was a stunned rabbit waiting to be shot.

Porn kill me. I lived by believing in hope. Porn kill that stone dead.

Porn taught me how to be a sex doll.

I had learnt not to, even my head, to questioned my stepdad.

I would have baths. I would ignored my terror.

It felt like the water was made of acid, as his fingers were in me.

I ignored my sickness as he stroked my hair. As he played footsies as I tried to eat dinner. As his tongue went down my throat as he kissed good night.

I try to pretend I was happy. I so wanted to pretend everything was normal.

But I was cracking up.

Maybe crying would of given me a short break. Maybe crying would of given me back some emotions.

Instead I was freezing out my heart, ignoring my soul.

I could not know my fear, it may kill me.

Somewhere deep I still angry, but it was impacted by ice.

I believe in many ways I was dead when I enter prostitution. I had given up caring what happened to my body.

But even then I was shocked.

I was shocked to be gang-raped. I was shocked at the amount of pain that was forced into my body. I was shocked at the pure hate.

I know never to cry. Crying would give those men pleasure. I know it would be a green light for more pain and more degradation.

To survive it was best to act dead.

That was easy for me, for I had died in my first rape when I was six.

I found “date rapes” hard.

Those men were “friends”. Those men had fooled me into trusting them.

I had been fool enough to show some vulnerability.

Date rape murdered my soul.

It tossed any vestige I had of hope into a rubbish dump.

I could not believe in anything, after a man I had been friend for eight years sadistically raped me for six hours.

All I had to believe in was that I must die soon.

That is my past.

I want to cry now, now I am away from that world.

But still no tears will come.

I am terrified that I am an empty shell.

Today, I could perform being happy, when my stomach was aching with grief.

I smoked to stop the pain of not crying.

Today, when I told a friend that I felt close to the edge, she said you appear so well.

That is my problem, I am so good at acting I cannot let out my grief and pain.

I want my tears back.

They are mine.

They don’t belong to those bastards.

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9 responses to “Had My Tears Stolen

  1. You’re right Rebecca numbing out pain and feeling is a coping strategy when forced to endure men’s sadistic violence committed against you. But the hardest part is accessing this pain and releasing it. Easier said than done when for years you have had to become a ‘robot’ in order to survive. This is something many individuals find hard to understand – how a person can appear to be calm, look so well and yet underneath they are suffering. Thank you for expressing so clearly how male sexual violence destroys women’s and girls’ humanity. But we also need to really listen in order to begin to even have a modicum of understanding how male violence works. How the immense damage men’s casual sadistic acts affects women and girls. We do not need individuals dismissing the aftermath by claiming ‘aren’t you over it yet.’ It is hard, so hard and of course no two women or girls are ever the same. How they deal with these experiences vary but it is the freezing of feeling, pain and anger which is so hard to thaw.

    You are thawing as you know Rebecca but it is still very hard both physicall and mentally.

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  2. Rebecca,
    as usual you are so close to my spirit. Jennifer Drew’s words are perfect – thanks from me too, Jennifer. Don’t lose patience with yourself. “tis much better to be unthawed, even if the journey is rough, and you’re not alone, there’s many of us out here that have jumped out of the freezer alongisde of you and finding the de-freeze awfully emotional and draining, and sometimes wishing to be back in the freezer. Sorry for all the fridge talk, but you know what i mean. Big hugs for you XXX keep going!

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  3. It must be very hard to want those tears and not to be able to have them yet. Saying prayers that you get the relief and comfort that you need, Rebecca.

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  4. Wow – Rebecca, I know how frustrating it is to not be able to cry. I, myself, have been a vicitim of rape/csa, and was taught to never cry or fight back. I cannot cry – I’ve tried so hard to cry and have also tried to sit with my sadness, and have tried all sorts of things to bring out tears, but they won’t come. Someday, we will both be able to cry.

    Hugs!

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  5. I am so very sorry, and sorrier still that my sorrow can do nothing to stop the pain. For me the only thing which works is to get angry at the bastards. Like you said, they enjoy our pain, but they sure as fuck fear our anger.

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  6. That was really very moving, thank you for writing that and having the courage to post it. I wish there was more I could do for you.

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  7. Thanks everyone. Sorry I have taken so long in getting back, but this post has been hard for me.

    Jennifer – Thanks for your insight. It is very painful feeling my past, and integrating into my present. I find it exhausting, but I am determined to get my true self back.

    Allecto – You don’t how much a hug helps, thanks so much.

    Jo – Your freezer metaphor is wonderful. I understand wanting to stay hidden inside the inner freezer, whilst at the same time wanting to break free. It can be terrifying. I truly admire your courage.

    N. – Thanks so much for your comment. I really hope that some day soon we can both can cry. You are in my heart.

    Delphyne – Thanks for yours prayers, I know that does have an impact.

    m Andrea – I am proud to have such a great blooger making comments. I really do apreciate that you feel sorrow for what I had to live with. It does means a lot to me. Anger is vital, for abusers expect silence and fear. As you say they are terrified of the righteous anger of Survivors and their supporters.

    Beth – Thanks for your support. Hope helps to keep going forward and confronting my past.

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