Ugh. I’m Gonna Talk About Getting Raped
Kel Campbell

Amazing. I won’t write what I wish on that sick fuck for the violence and humiliation he committed on you. He isn’t worth my time. And now you know he isn’t worth your time. (Read that twice, please.)

Writing about it is a key to your escape from those green shoes, from fear, from all he left to sear your soul.

You can begin to create you. The real you, not the you in relation to what he did to you. It won’t be easy. But when you are done, if any of us can ever be done creating ourselves, you will be free. I promise. It is hard work, the hardest work you will ever do, but the only work worth doing. Your idea that somehow keeping this inside is good is a reaction to what he did. It is a lie, a reaction to the you who is buying into the Reddit belittling of rape, buying into how he wants you to feel. The only opinion of your rape that matters is yours. Let your anger erupt. It will fuel you to begin to free yourself from a prison no one had any right to place you in.

I was raped at 17. I was a virgin. Talk about a surprise! It was violent. Rape is never about sex, always about violence and humiliation. You won’t ever know why he picked you. Be glad. You aren’t a sick fuck so won’t think like one.

Long story and this is about you so I won’t get into it now but I stole years from me because I bought into every lie I could find that I shouldn’t talk. Truth is I was afraid to talk, afraid to feel. I ended up with PTSD: there’s a circle of hell that Dante forgot. I abused myself because I believed I was ruined, anyway. I began to explode.

When I finally began to write about it, talk the nightmares, face the shadows, I became free! It didn’t take a week or a month or even a year. It took a long time but that part of me I believed he had forever changed returned long before I was fully free and fueled a righteous anger. My anger fueled me. I worked faster. I worked my ass off. I can’t remember when I last felt afraid or humiliated or “less than” or raped. I am me and I’m a powerful thing. I don’t weigh 100 pounds but I rule! I love who I am and I am who I love because I talked. I worked to find me, to create me. I was someone’s someone before, who isn’t at 17? Now I am mine. When I give, I give me, as much or as little as I choose.

You WILL be free. You WILL heal. THIS WILL NOT DEFINE YOU: YOU will define you and you will be who you choose, happy, free, life sustaining.

You are Lazarus and will rise from the dead. Yes, that part of you that died will live again. Write here when you know this so I can know, too.

YOU are worth fighting for. He is worth forgetting. And you will forget him and your rape, except for a couple of times 35 and 40 years later when you read someone’s infuriating story of violence and humiliation and you write to tell them that they, too, can be free. They, too, can be whomever they choose, not “just” a response to a horrid ordeal.

“What hurts, blesses.” Rumi wrote that. It can be true. It is true for me. I believe it will be true for you because you wrote this story, your story.

You are everything.

You are amazing.

I am in awe.


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