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25 August 2011 @ 03:35 pm
So long...so much!  
It has been so long since I updated my personal journal. I am usually so focused on our family journal that I don't have much use for my personal thoughts anymore. Sometimes I am not so sure I have those but recently something has bee bothering me tremendously. I recently found out the first real relationship, my first boyfriend period Mario committed suicide. I don't know how , I don't know why until recently I didn't even know how I felt about it. A part of me was sad for his family, for his close friends, one of which I had loved with all of my heart at one point in time. I knew these people were hurting, they were lost, dumbfounded at the cowardly exit of someone they loved from their lives. I tried with all of my might to feel something for him but no matter what I could not find any emotion. I felt almost inhuman not caring that he was gone until I realized that I did care only it wasn't in a way I would have ever imagined. I realized that I hated him even more than I already had , not for killing himself but for never getting to tell him how I felt about him. Never being able to tell him that for all that he did to me I still came out the better person.

You see, I met him when I was only 17 years old. I had never been allowed to date, wasn't even allowed male friends. I was scared when one of my only friends at college set me up on a blind date. I didn't know what to expect, didn't have the slightest clue how to act but all fears were put to rest when he came to pick me up in his ratty old blue car. He was very pleasant, easy to talk to and very easy to be around. We immediately took a liking to each other even though there was a 6 year age difference, we shared our lives, loves (which for me were nothing more than childhood crushes from afar) and laughed the entire evening. I was so thankful to have found someone who respected me, who respected my wishes. Especially the wish to abstain from sex until I was married, something that was more important to me than anything anyone could ever imagine. I was a virgin and as an abused child, having nothing that was ever my own I intended on keeping the ONE thing that belonged to me until I found the perfect person, my husband, the man I intended to spend my entire life with.

One night, after dating for about 2 months I went to visit his family where he lived. We were planning a whole weekend with 2 of his friends so this would be a sleep over visit. I never thought anything of it, I even packed my most hideous nightgown that went passed my toes. The first night we both fell asleep after a night of talking in his room, late into the night I was awakened by a pain between my legs. I opened my eyes, still not quite sure of what was happening and in no way coherent from sleep to find that this man who I had trusted had pulled my underwear from my body and had his way with me. I protested with several "no's" but all he did was repeat the "no's" and continued to invade me without my permission. I think somewhere in the middle of my protest I fainted, or fell back to sleep, to this day I have no idea what happened but I woke up hurting and wishing I was anywhere but in my own body. I didn't know what to do with myself, he was laying next to me and as I got up to dress myself and run from his house I heard him say to me "I love you". On those words I think perhaps I went a bit insane and from that moment on I became a crazed possessive, jealous girlfriend. In my head , I somehow distorted what had happened, I somehow forced myself to determine that I had to spend my life with this person no matter what. I MUST love him, I must marry him, I must , I must, I must. A few months later he ended our relationship at church citing that after much prayer God had told him it was the right thing. I was heart broken, he took my virginity from me so this couldn't happen. We could not break up! But break up we did. A part of me was empty, I had nothing, not my own emotions, my virginity, I was no longer ME. A few weeks later after I had gotten through the shock I got angry which is one of the reasons why when he came begging for me to come back to him I took him back. I took him back only to reel him in and leave him with nothing a few weeks later. I had become vindictive and insane. I was such a good girl before, innocent, sweet, would have done anything for anybody but now all I wanted was to hurt him. Honestly I think I wanted to hurt everyone, eventually it turned into me wanting to hurt myself.

About a month later when the reality set in and the fact that I was raped became clear to me for the first time since the night it actually happened I decided I didn't want to live anymore. I took a bottle of pills and laid down in my new apartment to die. I don't even remember what led to my survival, all I remember was a person who I never thought of as a friend begging me to go to the hospital. I don't remember how he found out what I had done, I just know he saved me.

For a long time I worked hard not to see the person who took from me my most precious gift. We tended to hang in the same circle but it seemed with our separation most of our friends chose me instead of him. I was thankful for that because I in no way wanted to be alone. It was during that time that I fell in love for the first real time in my life. I fell in love with someone who just so happened to be his best friend. We were spending more and more time together when a good girlfriend of mine , unknowing of my feelings , told me that he had confessed to her he was in love with me as well but would never act because of his duty to my rapist. I became even angrier but I felt like I could never have anyone I wanted so I would go for someone I didn't, a person who he had pushed on me in an effort to hide his own feelings, something that ended our friendship. I spent 8 years with that person until I found myself and realized I couldn't spend my entire life with someone I didn't love.

In a way I am thankful nothing ever worked out because I now have a wonderful family but in another way I hate knowing he got out of taking my life from me or so long. I let what he did to me lead me on a crazy spiral for almost 10 years of my young life. I wanted to be able to tell him, to yell at him. Eventually we reconnected via face-book and I decided since I was happy that I would try to forgive him as God would have done but not before unleashing my anger on him. I wanted him to know the pain I had suffered because of him before I forgave him. It seems petty and a little childish but it was like closure to me. In the end though, I chickened out of that conversation, I didn't have it in me to handle the visions it would have brought up. I saved it for another day but now that day can never be. To this day I wish I had told someone, I wish I had ran from his house, gone to the police, told someone what he did to me. It is rather ironic that my rapist ended up being a "law abiding citizen" in the form of a police officer. He is now being treated as a troubled "angel" by his friends and family. So that leaves me with angry, angry that he never paid for what he did to me.

Since his suicide I have found myself talking to my husband a lot about Mario. I know he doesn't know what to think but I cannot explain to him the void a part of me still feels after being raped by someone I trusted. He knew I was a virgin, knew how important keeping that part of me in tact was but he really didn't care. The oddest thing now though is that I find myself trying to comfort his family and friends even though a big part of me wants to shout at them that he was no angel. Given a lot of the stuff he shared with me, how he manipulated me throughout our entire relationship (which is a story for another day) it's a hard thing not to blurt out but there is no need to add to the suffering. Though, he in no way deserves the grief!