Bulemia

A while back a man who became very close to me aproached me and the very first words from him were, "Are you vain?". I was startled but replied that beauty is not something truly seen when people care too much about their looks and no, I am not vain. There was a point where vanity was drilled into my head, out of illness and necesity.
    My boyfriend from junior to senior year in high school was a young man who I cared for very much. After I graduated I moved in with him and his mother, as well as other strays she took in. At one point we became limited, and I, trying to make sure others ate, gave food to the others rather than myself. I would have a piece of bread with peanut butter while I made my boyfriend a sandwich. I would sneak food at work so I had something more to go off of for the day, but eventually even my mother would comment how skinny I was becoming.
After that point my boyfriend became more and more angry. I stopped eating all together or what I did eat I couldn't stomach after that for fear of him thinking me ugly and leaving me. I started throwing up almost every meal. I became bulemic and started to worry I was never pretty enough for any man. Well, I learned after that relationship that I was very pretty but guys still came and went. I was crazy, ugly, and fat. Purge after purge, binging just to make myself see I could have such foods and not let it add to me. I was so close to becoming the perfect barbie. Yet I realized what was happening. I heard the voice of my one friend in my head. "You're amazing just the way you are! Anyone who doesn't see that can go screw themselves!" I stopped and slowly became my old self again. I am terrified of getting the flu though because when I do throw up my body remembers and even after I recover my body's gag reflex is automatic not letting me keep much down.
We all want to be beautiful and perfect. We all want to look like the girls in the magazines that are doctored to be even skinnier than they actually are. We don't realize that we don't have to exercise every little calorie or purge. Yes it is important to stay healthy but, bulemia and anorexia are disorders that can KILL. Every woman, man, and young adult, I know this is easier said than done, believe me, I battle with it still, but you don't have to be the ideal look. You are perfect just the way you are! Fight with me please, if we could only see what those that care about us do...

MM

How? How do you tell someone it's okay after something like that happens?

         After being raped I found out I was pregnant. At first after finding out and seeing that positive sign on the test, I was in shock. I didn't know what to do or where I would hide if it was in fact true. My parents would have yelled for days if they had found out, but in several months I wouldn't be able to hide the fact.
           The thing that made me accept it was telling my boyfriend. After the rape our relationship became almost finished due to me pushing him away, all the while he wondered what he was doing wrong. But when I told him the news he spun me around, kissed me, and loved the little life that was growing inside me. I didn't have the strength to tell him any of the real facts. We smiled, thinking everything would be okay. We got closer again, he would be in the marines soon and we would marry, and live on the base raising our baby. The more we thought about it the more excited we became, especially since I saw that he was still beside me and wanted to be there.
              He would come over and when we were alone we would sit on the couch holding each other, speaking of our baby occasionally. We decide to call the baby MM for the time. Using its initials, if it was a boy we would name it Michael, if it was a girl we would name her Mary. I wanted to paint the baby's room like the shire from the Lord of the Rings movies and give that baby a fairytale life full of all the love we could possibly give it. My boyfriend would kiss me and then my stomach tickling it, already talking to it, promising to be the best dad and always protect it. At night I would hold on hoping it could sense my hugs and all my love as I sang to it. I would whisper promises at night, "I love you MM. I will always love you, no matter what you say or do, you will always be my angel. I promise to be the best mommy possible. You will want for nothing and you will have all the love in the world. I will make sure your life is far better than mine was. I promise MM. Mommy will always take care of you."
            As happy as we were though the stress became too much as did the fear of seeing the man that had ruined me. Two and a half months later I had the worst period of my life. I was so afraid, I knew what that meant, running and grabbing another test, it showed.... I had lost the one thing keeping me sane. My friend's mom was an OB/GYN and I went to her. She confirmed my nightmare... My baby, my precious MM. The life I could have had, watching MM grow up, holding, singing to, loving. I called my boyfriend to tell him the news. He cried silent tears as he came over to hold me. I was inconsolable. I cried for days and still sometimes shed a tear at night. I remember my promises, how I had tried to take care of it alone, how I hadn't gone to anyone but my friends mom and online sites for fear my parents would get the bills. I still believe it's my fault I lost my baby. I was too stressed, too young, and too scared to tell anyone but my boyfriend. The people I did tell would tell me it was alright, that I could try again... I broke and let both the trauma of the rape and of my miscarriage consume me. I broke off things with my boyfriend and became self destructive. As the insensitive words replayed in my head for weeks as I cried myself to sleep harder than usual.
How can you say that?! Yes, I can try again someday, but it will not replace the baby I lost. Seeing mothers and their babies make me wish MM were alive. I know some day I may be blessed with children but it won't be my precious little baby. I play the piano and every once in a while, unconsciously, my hands will stop and start to play MM's song I wrote. 

No one can truly understand till it happens to them and even then its different. It affects the woman for her life, because she will always have that in the back of her mind..... her lost baby.

The Most Important Story

I would like to share a story with you. This story is one of heartache and shakes the world of others. This is a horror story but I feel that is one that needs to be heard. This story started before the real story actually begins.

            One summer when I was fourteen years old, I had been blessed with the opportunity to go to Europe. I had seen a beautiful part of the United Kingdom with her classmates. My dreams were coming to life to see libraries, museums, art work, and historic sites, but one site was seen that I wishes wouldn’t have happened. You see one night when my class stopped at a hotel in Wales my friend and I decided to stay in the lobby. As we played card games some young men around the age of eighteen came over to sit with us. As it happened; our undeveloped minds blushed at the thought of older foreign boys liking us. We stayed in the lobby till it was well past curfew and when it came time to go upstairs the boys invited us to their hotel room to hang-out. As the elevator went up I had a horrible feeling in my stomach and a voice telling me not to go. My young friend however loved the attention and agreed to go with them. I grabbed her arm whispering to her not to go and that something bad would surely happen but my friend ignored her pleading. I was terrified for her friend and grabbed her hand following her to the boys’ room. There the boys pushed me in after my friend had sat down. I had seen white powder, which I later found to be cocaine, on the dresser and the boys sitting on the bed waiting. I could not ignore her gut anymore. I made the excuse that my pager was going off and that it was only used by my cousin in Iraq so I had to take it. I pushed passed the one young man still at the door. My friend followed me to see what was wrong. I begged yet again for both of us to go back to our room. The girl ignored me and said to calm down and that nothing would happen. Again she walked back into the room and I followed to grab her out. In the room one young boy was shirtless and another was naked on the bed. The third young man closed and locked the door, grabbed and was pushing her towards one of the beds. In a final attempt she asked her friend to go. With my friend’s refusal I pushed hard passed the third man still blocking the door, unlocked it, and ran for safety.

I was so scared that I ran to her room and cried. I was horrified at what had happened and what was happening to my naive friend. The next morning I finally found her at breakfast and asked what had happened. The only response was a deep look of heartbreak as she told me that I shouldn’t have left her there and they raped her. Every day I live with such regret. I could have run to my teacher, or my friend’s mother who was a chaperone on the trip, but I didn’t. I had acted on my flight or fight instincts. I flew down to her room and cried. People have told me that it wasn't my fault. It was either her or both of us. That was never good enough though, I live with the statement that I should have done more to save her. I blame myself to this day still for what happened to my dear friend and how i did nothing to stop it.

Four years later I began to start forgiving myself for what had happened to my friend. I was getting my life in order. I had confidence, life, was dating a kind young man, and had a quit a job I loved working with children to become a medic for the navy. I was ready to go off, serve my country, and be the great woman I knew I could be. In late Novemeber, a little over a month before I was supposed to ship off to Basic Training, I met a gentleman in his thirties that had been in the navy himself. Meeting at a friend’s company party I started speaking to him. He seemed a gentleman in his manner and told me that if I ever had any questions at all to give him a call and he would be more than happy to help. Now a young woman, I considered him a friend as well as a mentor for some time and talked often. One day the gentleman made his intentions clear that he liked me and wanted to date. I had told him that while I was flattered and cared for him I would not. I had my boyfriend and didn’t want to date someone twice her age.

Things were quiet till one night I received a texted invitation to go to the movies with him and my friend. I had no car and was not in the greatest situation with my mother. Understanding I would need to walk but that I needed to get out of the house, I accepted. The next morning I wrote a note saying I was going out and had no idea when I would be back. I walked over an hour to get to the theater and discovered that I was early. I was getting restless when I saw the man. I gave him a hug and asked where our friend was. He then stated that our friend couldn’t make it do to work. Something told me to be careful, but having walked and not wanting to go home, I walked into the theater with him. After buying tickets and a drink for me, we went to the theater and sat. The uncomfortable feeling grew as he kept patting my leg and trying to rest his hand on mine. The movie ended and getting prepared to go home he asked if I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten all day and with my hunger growing, hesitantly said yes. I pushed the yelling warnings in my gut aside and followed him to a McDonald’s just up the street. The feeling kept growing as he kept grasping my hand and I would remove it just for him to do it again. After he said that he had to drop his cup off at his house and asked if I would go with him quickly.

I had ignored text messages from my mother all day and told my father that I was with friends. I didn’t want to go home to have a fight with my mom so I followed. When we reached his house he invited me inside out of the cold for a minute. He tried showing me around as my gut screamed again, but again I ignored it. Surely a gentleman who had been in the navy wouldn’t hurt me in any way, and I believed him to be a good guy. When I did decide to listen it was too late. He opened a door saying to take a look. Before I could fully grasp what was happening I was on the bed under him. I tried, I said no, I couldn’t push away or scratch hard enough, and no one could hear me. I gave up and stopped fighting. I let what was happening take it’s course.

After that I ran, my father texting me to come home, but I couldn’t, I had no place to go, no place safe enough, where I could hide. I ran home in the end. Twisting my ankle as I ran, I collapsed as I walked through the door. Finding I was home alone, I cried. I cried as all the memories and fears from four years ago came flooding back into my mind and the pain of what had just happened. I went down to my room and took a shower. I knew no one would believe me. I had given up in the end saying fine. It was my word against a naval man's. I scrubbed my skin till i could feel it almost tear and I still couldn’t get clean. I was a hollow shell. I even tried to drown myself due to the fear and the worthless feelings. I would end up having post traumatic stress for years. I found I wouldn’t be able to go into the navy and went into a steeper downward spiral. I became pregnant and after broke up with my boyfriend. I was angry and didn’t trust any of the men that had promised to protect me. My father, my boyfriend, my friend, even God was not there to help protect me as they swore to do. I created further disaster for myself, plunging into a horrifying relationship, working a dead end job, and every night for a long time I would wake up screaming with tears from having to relive the rape in my nightmares. I couldn’t go near his work, let alone his street, without hyperventilating or crying, even hearing his name made me flinch.

On December 7^th, 2010 I was raped by a man I thought was honorable and I could trust. I became lost and empty. I didn’t know where to go or what to do and I wished there was a place that I could have run to. Every night I had those nightmares I wished that someone would be there to hold me, that when the said they understood that they actually would. I have been lied to, abused, hurt, and the worst, raped. All I wanted all those times was a safe house, a place where as soon as you walked in they would treat you with love and respect.

I eventually started getting help. Every once in a while and on the 7^th of every month I’ll have the same nightmares and they still scare me, but now I know that I can start to handle them better.