Rape, incest, battery: women writing out the pain

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Since my youngest memories, I was told that I was not important, was ugly, fat, stupid, in every way that those things could be said. I was taught that what I thought and felt did not matter. I was told that I was selfish, "stubborn and mad since the minute I was born. When I was sick, I had to stay in the back bedroom and could not come out.

At mealtime, my mother would stick her head in the door and hand me a plate of food. She would not come near me. No comfort, no love. I was Then there were the times I was hit across the face and head, picked up and shaken, bouncing my head off the wall, as my dad shook me. Another favorite of his, was to slam my brother's head and my head together. I would see stars!

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Then there were the socks filled with marbles, saved for trips in the car. The sock would come swinging back for my head. All of this discipline was "because I love you.

He'd try to tell me that he did it because he loved me and because I was so bad. My mother never held me on her lap.

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Somehow I never could quite believe it. My first clear memory of sexual abuse, that I have never forgotten, was when I was around 4 or 5 years old.

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I feel it started long before this. It went on for some time, several years. I was being raped by a female, 8 years older than me. It was gruesome and ongoing. I remember spending a night with her and sleeping in her bed, trapped between her and the wall, while she raped me. I was molested by 2 others when I was about years old.

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When I was nine, my uncle raped me with a knife at my throat to silence me. My four cousins were in the same room and I think they must have witnessed it. I also think that they were victims. One has since taken her own life.

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I have not felt strong enough to contact the others, but intend to. This bastard skumbucket of an uncle is still alive. Now I know why I have always been afraid of him and had a creepy feeling around him, as a little girl, and even when I was grown up. I saw him only one time as an adult. He hated me and was angry that I was leaving the state! There was also something horrible that happened to me when I was about 7 or 8 years old.

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China had a. So perhaps Kathleen was naive when she agreed to go to a movie with a young man she met at the coffeehouse. How, strategically, should we approach the laws we craft? However, a majority of the discussion centres around the impact on the victims, as well as the injustice of their behaviour. She published her final book, Zen and the Lady, at the age of eighty-three. At 18, I learned that I was conceived out of a brutal rape at knife-point by a serial rapist. On the contrary, evidence shows that abortion in such cases compounds the unspeakable pain that victims experience.

I cannot tell you about it now. The memories are just starting to come around. I do not want to know, but I now know that I must if I want to survive and get on with my life. But it will be the final death of my childhood. When I was 11, I was raped ongoing by a minister, threatened with a gun. I was also sodomized by this man I was given the message that it was my fault and that I would die if I told.

It has been torment, to tell. I have feared for my life because I have told.

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But, I am telling you NOW. I have had a lot of fears and feelings that I deserved to die. It is not always easy to remember this. The ages between about 7 and 11, I have no memory of, except the little bit of abuse I have mentioned.

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I feel deep down inside that there was a lot more. My mother gave me a bath, seemingly trying to scrub off my skin, especially my breast, when I was I still hate her for this, for boundaries crossed.

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Boundaries were again crossed when I was 17, by another minister. I stopped it, before MY clothes were off. But HIS were already off. I guess I want to say here that I am presently struggling to believe that all of this is really true, that it happened to ME.

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But I remember my mother 'setting me up' for my father's physical, verbal, and emotional abuse. There was NO protection from any of the other things that happened. I remember wanting to run away, planning it, but having nowhere to go, and knew I would be found and returned home and beaten within an inch of my life. I remember daydreaming that my parents had died, and then crying and feeling guilty for thinking such a thing.

I remember telling my mother about all the blood and her shrug of the shoulders, little smile, and telling me that 'it is nothing'. I ask myself now Why do I gag on hard boiled eggs? Why do I trust NO one? Why do relationships totally terrify me? Why do I crave constantly for someone to reassure me that they really do care and won't leave me? Why the depression? Why the panic attacks? Why the heartrending pain that makes me feel like my heart will break in two The list goes on-and-on.

Why do I withdraw deep into my shell at the slightest thing? By Miriam Kalman Friedman. Growing up in a conservative, middle-class family in Texas, Claire Myers Owens sought adventure and freedom at an early age. At twenty years old, she left home and quickly found a community of like-minded free spirits and intellectuals in New York's Greenwich Village. Drawn to ideals of selfactualization and creative freedom, Owens became a key figure in the Human Potential Movement along with founder Abraham Maslow and Aldous Huxley, and became an ardent follower of Carl Jung.

She published her final book, Zen and the Lady, at the age of eighty-three.