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You Told Me Not to Tell
In the wake of a news week where we hear yet another story of abuse and violence in the form of molestation against young girls, words were written that stopped a whole lot of people in their tracks. A friend and fellow blogger wrote a post that brought people to their feet, asking us to shout with our virtual voices to #CallHimOut – because enough its enough.
It’s time for us to stop being quiet and let the world know that THIS IS NOT OKAY. It is also not okay to protect the perpetrators and abusers. The victims have no reason to be ashamed, and they should never feel as though they have to protect the monster that stole their innocence and violated their bodies.
Today, it is our honor to have Nikki, another brave young woman coming forward to tell her story. It is hard to read. It will make you feel a lot of things you may not like. My own stomach was knotted living through this nightmare with Nikki as an eleven year old child. I applaud Nikki’s stepping up, telling this story, and becoming another voice for those who feel they have none. We would ask you to honor her, as well as our friend and any other victim who has survived this horror. We want you to stand up today and share these stories. Tell the world that this is not okay. It happens too often and the silence is deafening. Stop the silence: #CallThemOut.
~The Sisterwives
***TRIGGER WARNING: THIS POST IS ABOUT RAPE AND MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR SOME READERS***
You told me not to tell.
…and I didn’t.
Until now.
Why me?
Out of all the little girls in the world, why did you pick me? Did I look like a victim, easy prey? I suppose I did. My eyes were already dark with past happenings and misfortunes. I wasn’t fierce anymore. I was fearful and you must have seen it.
You were a sophomore. An athlete – good looking, a football hero to my 11 year-old eyes. You were nice. You asked me my name when you saw me out at the playground. That’s how it all began on that hot summer day. I was under your spell immediately. I introduced myself, all the while wondering why someone so cute would be talking to me out of the blue. We chatted for a bit untill I had to go home. We made plans to meet back up the next day. This was the ritual.
We got close quickly, as kids tend to do. You started getting a little flirty and I was completely oblivious. That must have pissed you off. I wasn’t picking up what you were putting down. Did you think I wasn’t interested? Did you think I was ignoring your advances purposefully? I was 11. You were obviously used to getting your way and I wasn’t giving it to you. Shame on me. Is that what provoked you? Is that why I got what I deserved?
You wanted to meet up at a new park that day. It was one I’d played at before, over near the football field where I’d go to cheerleading practice. There was a path behind the park and next to the field, leading back into the woods to a spot with a secluded cliff. It was an intimidating rock-face to scale for a child, but I’d done it on several occasions. I went eagerly.
“What would you do if I kissed you?”
“I don’t know, that’s a weird question.” wasn’t the answer you wanted.
“I guess I’ll just have to find out then.”
Before I could protest you grabbed my shoulders and shoved me back into the rocks, hard. I couldn’t even cry out, I was too dazed, and then you were on me. Lips pressed against mine roughly, hands pinning me into the cliff-face. I could feel the rocks digging into my back and I snapped to, shoving you away, asking you what your problem was. You didn’t like that. You grabbed me by the throat, and punched me in the stomach. As I doubled over you kicked me to the ground and descended again.
What’s going on. It hurts. What did I do? What did I do?
As I lay on my stomach, tears and dirt staining my face, you pinned my arms and dug a knee into my back until I screamed for you to stop. You flipped me over and slapped me, “Don’t you do that again, bitch, or I’ll kill you.”
“Why are you doing this?” I sobbed as you started trying to take off my shorts. You put your forearm on my throat and pinned my head back, effectively cutting off any more screams. When you lifted your arm to shove my shorts down and I could breathe again, I tried to fight, one last time. The hand that was not trapped by yours came up and connected with your jaw. You beat me. Making sure to steer clear of my face, the blows landed on my stomach and ribs, until my fight was gone.
Just stop. Stop moving. Stop fighting. He won’t hurt me if I stop fighting.
Prying hands, pushing, fingernails dug into my skin, forcing me, holding me down. Please stop! Please!. Pinning my hands at my sides so I wouldn’t strike out again, you took what you wanted.
I was a child. You took my innocence. You took everything.
What did I do? It hurts, it hurts. Is this what it’s like? Why is he doing this to me? Why did I make him so angry? Just take it, he isn’t hitting me anymore. Just be quiet and it’ll be over. How long? How long until he stops? It hurts. Please let it stop.
When you were done you told me not to tell. You told me you’d kill me. You said no one would believe me. I believed you. I lay there for a long time after you left. I didn’t know what to do. I hurt everywhere, I was bleeding and broken. After a while I got up and cleaned myself off in a nearby creek. I moved slowly and carefully, trying not to exacerbate my injuries. When I was confident I could hide what happened I went home. I walked in the door with a smile on my face like everything was fine, I went to my room until I was called to dinner. After dinner I stood in the shower, crying silently. Trying desperately yet gingerly to scrub off what had happened. The dirt washed off, the cuts no longer wept bright red. I couldn’t get rid of the damage, the stains, they were soul deep.
I woke up the next morning a different person.
I was sore for a long time. It took weeks for the bruises to fade, but by the time school was in session I was physically healed. I saw all my friends. I tried my best to act myself, but I wasn’t myself. You stole that from me. You tore my innocence from me and left a deep, jagged wound in its place. I hate you. I hate you for what you did to me. I hate you for what you turned me into. You beat me and silenced me. You broke me.
I’ve spent a long time taking myself back. It’s not an easy task, building a new person from bits and pieces of an old one. I was alone. No matter how many people I’d surround myself with I was forever isolated. I wanted to scream, “Can’t you see what he did to me?! Can’t you see what he stole?” But they couldn’t. I’m too good at hiding. The coward’s way out – I hide it all, bury it deep where no one can see it, and leave it alone.
And so I go through life, slowly gluing pieces back together as others fall off, a constant work in progress. Putting myself back together a day at a time until that one morning I could wake up and feel whole again.
I sometimes wonder who I was supposed to be before I was forever changed. I suppose I’ve had to accept that this is it. This is who I was meant to be. A survivor. Broken but not defeated. Forced to be resilient. Strong because there is no other choice.
Nikki is a lewd and crude wild-child who enjoys reading and regularly trips over her own feet. Self-proclaimed nerd, she enjoys all things sci-fi and fantastical. She’s got a crush on the Hulk but is married to a sailor, branding her a Navy wife. A mother to six fur-babies, you’ll regularly find Nikki near a Jack n’ Coke, controller in hand, telling some video-game boss to suck it. Her blog touches on everything from hilarious tales of working in a porn shop to serious trips into self-awareness, with some Military Wife drama tossed in on occasion. Nikki hasn’t had a natural hair color since she was 12 and intends to keep it that way. Her current educational adventure is taking her into the world of animal medicine but she also hopes to get her bartending license. You can also find her on Facebook.
So powerful, so courageous, and so awful that you had to go through it, Nikki. Thank you for trusting us with this piece.
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Thank you for getting it out there.
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With all we can – we’re all behind you on this.
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Nikki, I can’t express how much I honor you for sharing what happened to you. When we hide as a child it’s not the coward’s way out, it’s survival. We make decisions based on a child’s reasoning that rarely makes sense to us as adults. I endured and survived things as a child that would make most adults crumble to their knees and that makes me pretty damn amazing. I think you’re amazing too.
You said something that I have often wondered myself – who was I supposed to be before I was forever changed. That question has haunted me and since I didn’t know the answer, I thought it meant that I was always meant to be broken. I still struggle with that even though I know logically that it’s bullshit. I don’t know if I believe in “meant to” but I do believe in “choose to”. When we share our stories, we choose to be unbroken, we choose to raise each other up and we choose a new kind of whole. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
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Thank you so much. And thank you for reading.
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Thank you so much. And thank you for reading.
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Now THAT is powerful – “we choose a new kind of whole”
LOVE that. You’re awesome, Karen. Truly.
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Nikki, every time I read this piece it ties my heart in knots. How courageous you are for sharing your story here. You are NOT defeated, you ARE resilient, and you ARE strong. Thank you.
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Thank you for reading. It took me a long time to begin building myself up. It’s a work in progress, one I’ll never stop working at.
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Nikki, you are brave, strong, courageous, and beautiful. I can’t tell you enough how much my heart ached upon reading this. Too young. I’m sorry. I’m proud of you for speaking out and for writing this. You did phenomenal & I hope others will be inspired to tell their stories. Hugs and love.
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If I can get even 1 person to speak up, I’ll be honored beyond words. Thank you for all the support you gave me when I first wrote this. ♡
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Oh dear Nikki I’m so sorry that happened to you. I can relate on some levels. I never told either and I honestly don’t know why. It started at 3 for me…and I remember it. I’m curious as to what you thought about wanting to tell but didn’t. I know the threats stopped you but did you ever almost tell? What was your thinking? Did you see that monster ever again? Big hugs and thanks for sharing.
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I did almost tell. Every day for the first few years, I just wanted someone else to know. I didn’t want to carry the burden anymore. In the end it was my shame. I blamed myself for what happened for a very long time. By the time I realized it was not my fault, I was 20. I never saw him again. I’m not sure what I’d have done if I had.
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This gutted me. I want to go find that hideous vulture and rip him to shreds. How dare he…
I am just sick about it. You are an amazing courageous woman to not only share this story, but to rise above this tragic experience and heal from it. Did he ever get charged?
Carry on warrior… you are amazing.
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No, I kept quiet and he got away with his crime. Something I’ll always regret. Thank you for reading. And thank you for the kind words, I really appreciate them.
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Nikki, Your words here are brave and bold and will resonate with many. Your strength will give other victims the courage to speak out or to maybe even just start dealing with their trauma.
Your last paragraph is like a mantra from my own life and mind. I wonder who I would have been. Would I be more carefree and confident? I will never know. But yes, we are strong and resilient and “broken but not defeated.” Thank you. Your words are a comfort and a battle cry for me.
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If this piece can help anyone I’ll be extatic. No one should be ashamed to share their story
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I had to get the kleenex. My heart breaks for you, Nikki. Both the woman and the child. Silence kills something inside us. You are brave and courageous to speak out!
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Thank you so much. And thank you for reading! I needed some Kleenex myself a few times.
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I am so sorry you had to endure this. You are so brave for speaking out! I hope this encourages others to do the same. ❤
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Thank you. I hope exactly the same thing
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Reblogged this on and commented:
#CallThemOut
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You’ve given a number of people the courage to face this demon, and hopefully to purge it.
Thank you.
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Your story is heart breaking, but your spirit is strong, inspiring, and beautiful. Thank you for trusting us with your words.
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I couldn’t think of a better place for them
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Thanks for sharing your story. It’s a brave and healing thing; that you’ve shared with us all.
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Thank you for reading!
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Reblogged this on Put Your Dick Away and commented:
I was published on Sisterwives today.
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I’m floored. My heart hurts for that little girl. And I’m amazed by your strength. 💗💗💗
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Thank you 🙂
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I am in awe of your strength and courage. I am so glad you put this out there. I stand beside you in this fight. No More Shame
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There are tears. But there’s also some serious rage that wants to find that guy and rip him apart. And you, my dear, are stunning in your beauty and resilience. And oh so very brave. ❤
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Thank you 🙂 I’m only as brave as I have to be. I hope I inspire others to share their story
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Sometimes when I come here, I am almost not strong enough to make it through the post. This is definitely one of those times. I am not really a crier. I just never understood how it helps. I am madder… I get mad and then it builds up… now my hands are shaking and I can almost feel that guys throat in my hands as I teach him what it is to feel helpless against someone bigger and stronger. I never know what to say. Your strength amazes me. I wish I… or some other decent man… had been there when you needed us.
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I often respond with anger rather than sadness so I completely understand. Thank you so much for reading and for your kind words. This has been a scary day for me, but the encouragement helps so much.
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Thanks for trusting us, and opening up… and I hope it helps, even a little.
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Difficult, brave, potent words. I think you are an incredible person AND writer.
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Thank you so much. That means a lot to me!
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My heart hurts for you. Thank you for sharing. To have the courage to share, and to for being strong.
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Nikki I am so sorry you had that awful experience….It is heart breaking on so many different levels. Thank you for being the strong woman that you are and sharing that with the world. You are a survivor.
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Nikki! Thank you. My daughter was seven and assaulted by an eleven year old neighbor boy. It happened multiple times before she was brave enough to say something to me. I often wonder what she would be like if this hadn’t happened. I grieve the innocence that was lost because of the poor judgements of the boy who we all trusted as a friend. I am proud of the overcomer and fighter that she is. She is brave and compassionate. Thank you for writing this. I’m so sorry for what that boy did to you and the innocence he took. Beautiful blog.
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Fuck that guy who changed your life! Grrrrr! It’s just horrendous how many people’s lives have been forever changed at the hands of these predators. This is definitely a trigger post for me so I feel mostly anger but I so admire your bravery and ability to #CALLHIM OUT and live as a survivor,” broken but not defeated. ” I wish you much happiness in your life. 🙂
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How would i go about posting my story? Please my voice needs to be heard.
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email it to sisterwivesspeak@gmail.com for consideration – it’s in the submissions section – feel free to send something in 🙂
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I hate that we share being raped, in common. I hate it for you. I hate it for me. But I’m so damned proud of you for hanging in there, for sticking it out, for living the best life you can. Because it’s HIM that is a damaged piece of crap. I don’t have to know you to know that you totally rock. Along my own road to healing, I’ve had a lot of revelations, aha moments, and incredible healings. And because of what I’ve learned about myself, I know that you are one bright, beautiful and very tough soul. Rock on!
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And one of the hardest things I’ve had to come to terms with is that both of the people in my life who abused me, only did so because they were so very damaged and/or mentally ill. No one who is not damaged violates another person in such a heinous way. Now, back to you. You rock! Thanks for sharing your story with us.
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Thank you so much for that, it made me tear up. I really needed to hear those kind words! And i must just say that love that you’re user name is the name of my all-time favorite goddess! It just so happens that as a practicing pagan persephone is the goddess i worship ♡
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A few years ago I took a class to learn about energy healing. One of the first things we did was ask for a guide to step forth on each side to assist us with our healing work. The one that is on my left side is Persephone. She is very feminine, and very strong. She works with me to this day. (I have a man on my right side).
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Thank you for your kind words 🙂
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Nikki, I am sorry. I am sorry we share 11 years old. I am sorry we share this story. I am glad though we share survival. I wept through your story, wept through reading it twice. Thank you for your strength in writing it.
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It is very brave of you to share this with everyone. I hope you are happy now. 🙂
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