The next significantly traumatizing event I can remember happened at a party me and two of my best friends went to one night when we were around the age of sixteen. I remember being so excited because I was finally old enough to drive and get out of the house I found so restrictive and so chaotic. I suppose I expected the world “outside” would be so much more grand, so exciting, and so free. What I learned is there’s always a price for freedom.
The girls and I got all “duttied up” and tried to look at cute as possible so that hopefully we’d catch the eye of one of the young men our dads had kept us locked up from all these years. As I remember, there were at least a few really cute ones there as we sauntered in naively. There were drinks flowing, music playing, and handsome young men swaying to the music while making idle chatter with us. We were finally out and about in the world, but the fun was soon cut short.
At some point in the evening I was coaxed or pushed into a bedroom. I’m really not sure how I got there, but I’m certain of the fact that I didn’t expect or ask for what happened next. All of the sudden it seemed, I was surrounded by five guys, all five of which were trying to hold me down and take my clothes off. I guess I’ve blocked out to what point they got to with my clothes, but the rest I remember vividly, and really–does it matter about the clothes? There were nasty, slobbery kisses, lots of hands groping me from the left side of the bed, the bottom of the bed, and the right side where I was held down. There was lots of dirty talking surrounding me, lots of laughing, and very loud music playing in the background. Some of the guys started to take their pants down. If I didn’t realize the danger I was in before this, I did at that moment. I was frightened beyond anything I’d encountered before. I wasn’t the “grown sixteen year old” I thought I was. I was now a little girl again. I was taken back to a time before when I’d encountered a monster. I’d seen this monster before, but this time there were several. I fought!
As I sit here writing this, I’m taken back to this event and I moved to tears, not just by the pain it brings up, but by the fact that God just brought a song to my heart to comfort me. It’s one of my favorite songs, one that comforts me, makes me feel protected, secure, and most importantly not alone–strong. Everything by: Lifehouse
Find me here
And speak to me
I want to feel You
I need to hear You
You are the light
That’s leading me to the place
Where I find peace again
You are the strength
That keeps me walking
You are the hope
That keeps me trusting
You are the light to my soul
You are my purpose
You calm the storms
And You give me rest
You hold me in your hands
You won’t let me fall
How appropriate for this moment, for this time. I can see that little girl that was me calling out to Him from that ugly place, “FIND ME HERE!” I don’t want to feel this. “I WANT TO FEEL YOU!” I don’t want to hear this. “I NEED TO HEAR YOU! “YOU ARE THE LIGHT THAT’S LEADING ME TO THE PLACE WHERE I FIND PEACE AGAIN.”
For a minute I was back there. I was feeling the touches, hearing the sounds. My skinny legs were wrapped tightly like a pretzel with my left ankle hooked around back and to the front of my right ankle. This little technique proved valuable and helped me thwart off an inevitable rape by five strong young men. I fought with every bit of toughness my dad had instilled in me. I screamed for help for what seemed like a long time. I hit, scratched, bit, even spit.
Even with all this, one of the guys had the nerve to try and stick his penis in my mouth. I let him know real quick that wouldn’t be a good for either of us. I remember explicitly telling him, “Go ahead, put your dick in my mouth and I will bite it off!” This is not the way I talked normally, but I felt the occasion called for it. I was trying to appear tough, but in my head I was afraid, terribly afraid. The rest of it all continued, but none of them came near my mouth with any part of their bodies after that. Help was on the way.
Thankfully my one of my girlfriends noticed I was missing and went looking for me. She heard me screaming and gathered a few of the guys to help. They were on the deck at the sliding glass door banging and ordering the guys to leave me alone. Eventually they were either let in or broke in. We gathered our other girlfriend and quickly left the party leaving the “good guys” to deal with the monsters.
I never really talked about it after that night. I mean they didn’t rape me so what could I say about it really? A pattern was set into motion. For some reason I always tried to minimize these events. There was a part of me that looked for blame in myself. There was another part of me that began to accept this as the norm. Also, who would I tell? I’d told my mom about the other monster and she didn’t believe me, why would she believe me now? Maybe she didn’t believe in monsters. As I said, I had very loving and supportive parents. I’m just not sure they’d ever dealt with such a thing, and honestly, I never gave them a chance after the first attempt. From this point on my life became increasing crazy. The older I got, the bigger and uglier the monsters became.
“You are the strength that keeps me walking. You are the hope that keeps me trusting. You are the light to my soul.” Everything by: Lifehouse