Mental Assault Part 2

Surprisingly, this month's mental assault is not anyplace near ToM. Must be stress.
Mom, family members, you know the drill...this post contains TMI, if you read it, please don't bring it up in conversations, if you don't want to worry about that sort of thing, don't read it.


I am 15 years old. I'm single, must be the break we were on, my older B/F & I. I've been spending my evenings at Denny's (where they give free refills on coffee & I can sit for hours writing poetry in my book) and tonight I didn't feel up to going home yet, even though it was late. I'm walking to Tim Horton's, past my house. I'm walking, and a man pulls his pick up over to ask me if I wanted a ride. I accept. He drives me the 10 blocks to where I'm going, and parks behind the building (where the entrance to the parking lot is). We're chatting, and out of no where, he pulls his penis out, and begins to masturbate right in front of me. I bolt from the vehicle, and run inside the store. I must be shaking and pale, though it's not registering until the clerk asks me what's wrong. I tell her, and she phones the police, only by now he's driven away.

I'm 19 and single. It's after the break up of my first marriage. I'm bar hopping, and I've discovered the ability to pick men up at the bar. I randomly pick someone out, take them out for coffee, and chat all night. I'm desperately searching for meaning in life, proof that life goes on when your heart is broken. I've noticed, by now, that the hot steamy guys aren't interested in me, and I feel it's plastered all over me that I'm a divorcee and a complete loser. I pick the ones sitting alone, strike up a conversation and go with it. I'm at my favorite night club, and pick out a guy. I persuade him to go to a nearby gas station to buy me a six pack of beer. We sit in my car and drink it together before heading back in where he introduces me to his friends. A week later I head to his house to hang out. I do the same thing next week. I know he's interested in me, but the feeling really isn't mutual. On the last night I'm there he gets me drunk, which was rather easy as I hadn't eaten that day. After downing a few beers he convinces me to smoke a joint with him. It puts me over the edge and I throw up over the side of his porch. I sleep it off on his grandmothers (who's he's living with) living room couch. As I'm in my car getting ready to leave the next morning, he reaches through the window on the pretenses of grabbing a piece of garbage he's left on my passenger seat, and he kisses me. I never speak to him again.

I'm 13. My mother has had it out with her spouse about the abuse. She's having trouble gathering courage to kick him out. I've been on a binge of drinking & drugging with some dangerous girls (one of which will later go to jail for murder). I come home to tell my mom that I'm going on a road trip with the girls to the next province over. She tells me I can't go. I tell her in some sort of fashion (I imagine it had swearing in it, but I really can't recall) that I'm going whether she likes it or not. The spouse, my abuser, steps in and tells me not to speak to her that way. I turn around and walk out. My friends are waiting outside for me, and I'm headed for safety. He chases after me, and on our front stoop, grabs me by the shoulder, and slams me back against the wall (my memory wants to tell me that it was by the neck, but I can't be sure), telling me to get inside. I storm to my room upstairs, and in the midst of it all, my friends fear for my safety and phone the police. I'm upstairs in my room, and a policeman comes in to see if I'm ok. Both folks were glaring at me, and I tell them all to leave me the f**k alone. The policeman has gotten the back story from my friends, but I can't bear to say anything against my mother, so I choose silence instead. I get a lecture from abuser, and when I tell both he and my mother off, they leave me alone in my room. I pack a bag and sneak out my window. My friends catch me when I jump off the roof. I spend the next two months in hiding. I only return to my home when my friends assure me that my abuser has moved out.

I'm 13 and I'm spending my summer downtown. I've voluntarily put myself on the street. During the weekends I party with strangers and anyone who can lead me to drugs & a party. I only go home during the middle of the week to grab fresh clothes & bathe. I meet another homeless teen who calls herself "Missy". She's petite, shorter than I am, and curvier. I can't tell how old she is, but we meet frequently on our wanderings downtown. One day when I'm with a gal pal, we all manage to hook up with this guy who has some cocaine. He gives us each a line, and we spend the day with him working on the Eight Ball he has with him. It's my first time snorting cocaine, and it seems to make everything too intense. It's too bright out, so I wear my sunglasses. I want to go swimming, but am somehow afraid that I'll drown. It felt really good. Later on in life, I'll find myself seeking this drug again.

It's the summer between 6th grade and 7th grade. My mother is in the hospital, and rather than staying at home with my abuser alone, I spend it at my friends house. I get my first menstrual period. I've never received the birds and bees/puberty talk, so I have no idea what to do. I'm walking home with friend and her older sister. She tells me what I need to do, and marches me home to show me. It will be years before I understand fully my responsibility and learn how to manage it.

I don't know how old I am, early teens. I'm friends with a large blond. I don't know why, she has a tendency to be cruel. We spend our time hitch hiking. One night we end up in a town 45 mins north of my home. We've been picked up by two black gentlemen. They buy us alcohol, get us drunk, and take us back to their hotel room. They choose which one of us they want, and we have sex. The experience repulses me, and I never find myself attracted to black people after.

I'm 14. I've broken up with my boyfriend, but still find myself spending time with his friend. He's never shown any interest in me, so I feel safe spending time at his apartment alone. I trust him. We watch movies, listen to music and hang out. I spend many nights there drinking, getting high, and sleeping over without incident. One night, I bring alcohol with me, and we drink. I have the same amount as I have every other time, only this time I black out. After half bottle of beer I can't recall what happened. I wake up the next morning naked in bed. He's lying next to me telling me what a beautiful body I have. He's drugged me, and raped me, and he told me I asked for it. I leave his apartment, and don't tell anyone because I feel it's my fault. I see him on and off for years afterward, but I can't bear to say more than a cordial hello and nod my head in his direction.

These thoughts have been bouncing around my head for days now. Once again I haven't been able to get them out. Better on paper/computer, than in my brain.