Haunted

On December 20, 2010, I became another faceless name on a list that grows far too much every day- I became a victim of date rape. This is the first time that I've confessed it as such to anyone other than my current boyfriend. I still can't rationalize it. It was my first sexual experience. He made me feel the way the main character in 50 Shades feels whenever Christian Grey does/says anything to her. The flood of sexual excitement. The mega butterflies. The tingling and incessant craving. There's one major difference- I very specifically told him no. On more than one occasion. And that night, he decided that my voice didn't matter. He called himself my "boyfriend". The first time anyone had been "my boyfriend". The first time I heard the words "I love you" from someone other than a family member, it was from him. He didn't love me. He didn't give a damn about me. If he did, I wouldn't be as fucked up as I am today. But I believed it all at the time. I was so obsessed with the idea that a man could love me, that even after the unspeakable happened - even after I lay awake that entire night filled with fear, dread, and disgust, I held on to him. I told myself it wasn't rape - I let him convince me that it was my fault. My fault. I caused this. I still have a hard time believing otherwise. It was weeks later, after I told my counselor and he got angry - I've never, in all my years of therapy, seen a counselor get angry - that I started to let the notion creep in that it really was rape, and it wasn't my fault. I wish I could tell you that I accepted that thought and held onto it, but I didn't. I wanted to feel all those things that he promised me so badly, that I swept that notion under the rug. I excitedly told all my friends how I finally lost my virginity, and each time, their congratulatory praises made me feel better. I kept pursuing the relationship. Finally, in late January, I discovered that he was a massive drug addict. This made me feel bad for him. I felt like I had to fix him. Let me tell you this, as plainly and clearly as I can : YOU - YES, YOU - CANNOT CHANGE A PERSON. I don't care if you are Mother Teresa herself. There is nothing you can do or say to a person that will change who they are or what they do. I wish I had known that. I wish I had run away when he told me "I used to treat women badly, but I've come around and really learned to respect them." It's all a lie. They don't change. Even if it really seems like it, IT'S NOT WORTH THE RISK. I know I can't change your mind if you're in a similar situation, but God, I wish I could. He broke up with my around the same time I found out about the drugs (and I'm not talking marijuana, I mean some serious shit that I didn't want to be around). I grew angry, which turned out to be a good thing in some ways. I started doing really well in school, I took my anger out at the gym, and I hid every feeling I had about anything that happened with him.


Life started getting better. Much better. Out of dumb luck, I met my current boyfriend online in February of that year. I didn't want to date him. I didn't want to date anyone. I was going to be independent, and I was going to stand on my own two feet, since all men were bad news to me. But he kept talking to me, and I realized he was a good listener, and we had a lot in common. I told him that I didn't want to date, and that I just wanted to be friends. He told me that was fine (which I later learned, really wasn't what he was feeling at the time...his friends have confirmed this). So we stayed friends for a month. You know how stupid love is, and how it always happens at the wrong time...well, by March, we knew we couldn't stay "just friends", so we became a couple. For six months, everything was happiness and butterflies and all the great things that come with the honeymoon phase in a relationship. Until I started falling back into depression. I have been suffering from my latest spell of major depression since September of last year. It hasn't ended. Lucky for me, I have a partner who loves me enough to stick with me and help me through these dark times. He is the definition of love. The polar opposite of my dark experience.


This is where the current problem resides: A year after the incident, I started having flashbacks. Every time my boyfriend and I tried to get intimate, I would freeze. I would panic. When he touched me, all I could think about were those lingering feelings of isolation, guilt, and violation. Needless to say, our sex life has been riddled with frustration since then. I finally opened up to him about a month ago about everything that happened before. He had a vague idea before, but that night I spilled all the bloody details. I cried as I recounted the entire story. For a grueling six hours, he held me and listened, trying not to get bloodthirsty at the thought of what happened. I had to calm him down a couple times. The worst part of it is that the person whom I love most will never have that special part of me - the innocent, wild, craving creature full of desire and no regrets. She loved fervently, furiously, with no holds barred. She was saving herself for someone truly special - someone who truly deserved her. He deserves that woman. But he can't have her, because that monster stole her. It makes me cry just thinking about it. I wish I could give him so much more. And so the guilt creeps back in.


I am haunted. A partial life, never to be made whole. No apologies, no admission of guilt from the miscreant who ruined me. He claimed it never happened. I wish it hadn't. I wish I could let it go. But I can't.

Post #4:: The Break Up, Part I

Well...this won't include any juicy details yet...I'm a little too buzzed and the wounds are still bleeding pretty bad right now. This is my emotional response...in lyrical form, thanks to The Darkness.

Holding My Own
The Darkness

Baby, everything has fallen into place
My life is so exciting now I've got my space
Like a splash of water on my face
Lately I'm doing what I can do to pleasure me
I'm finding time to focus on my fantasies
I'm satisfied in my own company

I don't need your permission
To take this matter in my own two hands

'Cos I'm holding my own
Give or take a tear or two
I'm holding my own
No matter what I put myself through

Lady, all we seem to do is talk about
We take apart and analyse our ins and outs
Honey, I would rather do without

No-one to answer to
I won't spend another lifetime begging you

'Cos I'm holding my own
Give or take a tear or two
I'm holding my own
No matter what I put myself through
I'm holding my own

There's a spring in my stride
There's a twinkle in my dying eyes

'Cos I'm holding my own
Give or take a tear or two
I'm holding my own
No matter what I put myself through

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwn_cm3CkoQ

Post #3:: Religion, Part I...My Religious Upbringing

I will take this pain that I feel every single day over being happily brainwashed with religion like I used to be.

I was raised in a mostly Christian home. I went to a Christian school my whole life. From preschool to twelfth grade. Not because my parents thought of it on their own and thought it would be a good fit. No. It was because  my rich godparents' children all went there, and my parents wanted my brother and me to turn out just like them. There are few things in my life that I can truly justify as things that have royally fucked up my life, and being trapped in a Christian school is position numero uno.

I was raised to do what I was told. No questions. Just a simple, "Yes, sir" will do. Naturally, I was the perfect victim of religion. From the time I was four years old and really grasped who Jesus was, he scared the living daylights out of me. Either that, or I felt badly for him. It really depended on the day. I was frightened with the prospects of eternal damnation at a young age. That's what set me deep into Christian doctrine. Fear. I was convinced that everything I did...EVERYTHING needed to be for Jesus. I grew used to the fear and convinced myself that I really loved Jesus. I did everything for him. Literally. I'd so much as vacuum the house and think of ways it was glorifying Jesus. I'd do the dishes while singing worship songs. It was disgusting. But I felt compelled. I didn't want to go to hell. And all of it made me feel kind of good inside. So I kept it up...mostly because it was what I was supposed to be doing.

I never questioned Christianity until the day I decided that I needed to persuade my family to start family devotions. My dad was against this idea. "But dad, Jesus is the head of the household, and we need to honor him." I argued my point. My dad argued that he was the head of the household. Not Jesus. This upset me deeply. For days. My dad was disagreeing with Jesus. I had to make a choice. I chose Jesus. I did devotions by myself in my room for hours. Usually crying was involved, because of my dad. Because of my lack of feeling like a family. Because real families had dinner together and did devotions once a week. My family did neither.

So I clung to my religious teachings at school. During chapel every Tuesday, I was kneeling at the alter, sending my prayers fervently to God. Or Jesus. I never knew which. I decided it wasn't worth it to decide. It was all I had. I learned to serve others and disregard myself. Consequently, I never learned who I was. Because who I was didn't matter. It was how I served others and how I served God that mattered. I became the most ignorant, narrow-minded, little Christian child you'd ever meet. But I didn't know any better. I just knew what my teachers told me. I knew what the chapel speakers banged against the pulpit. That's all I knew. I only cared about getting into heaven. Living like Jesus.

Blind. Ignorant. Naive.

Post #2:: Weighty Issues, Part I

This is my first weight-centered post.

I'm feeling really good today...maybe it's the 3 cups of coffee I drank, maybe I'm coming to the realization that today is my turning point. I don't know. Yesterday, I had a very down day. I felt like crap. Complacent, depressed, unhappy, etc. Today is a different story. The feel-good self-love fest started after my second cigarette and my first cup of coffee....maybe that was what I needed.

Anyhow, this morning I decided to pull out my tape measure to record all my measurements. Good news! Since December 29th, I've lost .5 inches off my neck, 1 inch from my chest, 3 inches from my waist and 1 inch from my hips. Just when I thought I wasn't making any progress, too!

I also took some "before" pics, but since I can't find my adapter, I'll have to post them later. Today I'm sitting at 227.3 pounds. To give myself  (and you) some added perspective, I attached a picture of my heaviest point: May 2008, 250 pounds. Look at that gorgeous BBW...technology in one hand and an empty plate of food in the other. Typical. It was baklava, I think. I can't fit into those shorts or that shirt anymore. Guess I am getting somewhere :)

Post #1:: Introduction. Nice to meet you too...

Well, here I am. 20 years old. In college. Going for a degree that I am passionate about. 75 pounds overweight. In my second relationship ever. Given hell the whole journey here.

I'm 20...sounds great, right? I have enough worries and problems that I feel like I'm in my late 30s. If I'm lucky, my life might even out by then.

The college I'm attending was the last on my list of 8 much more prestigious colleges that accepted me. In a town I hate. With peers that I hate even more.

My degree is about the only thing that saves me. I have a horrible gpa due to many factors...some of which you may hear about later. I'm pursuing a bachelors degree in Materials Science and Engineering. I want to work toward a PhD in Biomedical Nanotechnology someday. "Someday" feels like it will never happen, thanks to several things that I like to call "Rosie-issues". I could write a book on Rosie-issues. Maybe someday I will.

Overweight...yeah...I've come a long way, I know. My senior year of high school my doctor looked at me and told me I had to lose 100 pounds. It was bad enough that I was already depressed and headed toward the edge overlooking the deep end, but you have someone tell you that you have an entire person's worth of weight to work off and tell me you take it lightly. 25ish pounds down, gained some back, still working to get the rest off and keep it off.

Relationships...I haven't been very lucky in the past, but this time I've found someone that I can hold at arms' length, and it seems to be working out nicely so far. He makes me happy. That's all I need.

I've run into the wrong crowd recently, and I've gotten into some things that I'm not too proud of. I'm not trying to "find Jesus" or "turn my life around". I'm trying to learn to accept the things I've done and love the person I'm becoming. I'm documenting my journey, here. Digital support, I suppose. Maybe someday I'll share what I write. Maybe not. For now, I just need to write it down. I don't think my friends could handle hearing some of the things I'll be writing about just yet. (To my friends and family that see this, consider that your warning.)

My goal on here is update at least once a week...how my classes are going, where my research is at, how my workouts are progressing, dieting info, etc. So...here we go. I want to see something drastically different by May. Hopefully that's what you'll see too.