I have to stop the Blame

I've been reading a few books about resistance in therapy and PTSD. I've been reading the one about PTSD for about two years now. It has different therapies and different aspects of PTSD. Today, I was reading the chapter about grief. Putting it together, I realized a few things that I really want to work on in my written and visual journal.
1. I have not dealt with my dad leaving the house. I don't talk much about it but I went out the day that I was raped by Kirk because I was upset that my dad was moving his things out of the house. I had asked my friend to meet me at the bowling alley, thinking that he'd remember because it was important to me; but he forgot so I went for a walk and went there anyway. I had been very angry with my dad for many years since he had cheated on my mom, moved in with his girlfriend, and for a time, was allowed to go back and forth between the two places. My mom said she was trying to make things work and had considered getting back together with my dad but one of us, most likely me, had expressed such dislike for the situation, that she reconsidered and decided to go with the full divorce.
2. I need to stop blaming my dad and Kirk for my bad relationships. I used to blame them for everything. My dad never showed me what a good relationship could be like. Kirk made me mistrust men and therefore, I cheated. I also learned cheating from my dad. I'm old enough now, I can have good relationships. Yes, I've had some difficulty figuring out what I wanted out of relationships and how to have one. But it doesn't always have to be that way. I can find friends and mentors to teach me how to have friendships and to teach me how to have a good relationship. I feel that my current relationship has been going very well. We're 6 months in and that's a feat for me since it has taken me a while to have a relationship that lasts more that 2-3 months. I have had a lot less doubts in this relationship. I worry about things that aren't about the relationship, for example, accepting that he'll work hard but he'll always want to paint and he won't have a steady income if all he does is paint. He's a great painter and is gaining recognition, but it might be a while before those good paychecks come in.

I haven't dealt with my dad's leaving. I have dealt with the anger towards my dad. But it seems the whole day is overshadowed by the incident with Kirk. It has taken me quite a while to even think about it. I used to sort of blame my dad for leaving and sending me out of the house. I mean walking in the neighborhood is a good coping skill.  There was maybe once that I was walking around the neighborhood that I saw Kirk, hanging out in his van. I didn't trust him and I thought he might have had a naked girl in the back, hiding. It was a weird thought but he quickly drove away and I was glad for it.
I saw Kirk at one of my brother's parties. He was trying to make it seem like everything was fine. I just nodded my head and wished he would never talk to me. There was at time when he got a job at Dominos making pizza. It was located in a shopping center that I had to pass every time I came home. The other side of the street was the bowling alley (I'll have to write a diagram). I had to pass that if I came from the other way. There was no way around passing his car if he was working. My mom noticed that I looked over at the bowling alley parking lot every time we passed. If his car was there, I felt sick to my stomach. If his car wasn't there, I felt sick to my stomach. I thought that if his car wasn't there, then he must be having sex, taking advantage of another girl, or whatever it was. I don't think he ever told anyone that he slept with me. I think he slept with other people I knew. I know some of the girls who bragged about having sex had worked at the bowling alley in the restaurant part.
At one point, I knew the moms of two of my friends were working at that bowling alley. Ryan and I were in the same grade at the same school. He was cool. He told me that Kirk had asked him to go to a party. I really hated Kirk and the stories about Kirk. I didn't like who hung out with him, either. But they were the same as my brother's friends and my brother didn't like me to hang out with his friends.
Another time, my friend, Christy, and I went to the bowling alley. I didn't think that Kirk had continued to work there. He just showed up. I was showing Christy who he was and she was saying I was staring, which made me upset because she wanted to know what he looked like and I was pointing him out. It was enough for me to stand there while he was there. I can't tell you the sequence of all these events because I can't remember.
At some point, Kirk moved to be a cook in Oregon and I knew I didn't have to worry about seeing his fucking van, where he raped me, again. But when my brother knew when he was coming back for a visit, I would get paranoid about any Oregon license plate that I saw, thinking that he'd be in it. I later found out that he was getting married. I wondered how that happened. I hoped that his family didn't have to go through what my family.
I remember when I started to realize what a life he must have had, to look to women as objects and as nuturing him. I infered that his mother wasn't affectionate and probably didn't pay him much attention. He was overweight. I don't know how much he weighed but he seemed so large. Then, he had liposuction. He looked a lot less taller. I think when he was leaving, after the first time I saw him after his lipo, I got a half-assed hug from him. I now realize a few things while writing this-- that he really let other people know what he was up to-- he liked to have his network of people knowing his every move. He liked the attention. But he was so uncomfortable with himself. It still doesn't give him the right to do what he did, knowing full-well that it was wrong.
I remember his friend Flipper. Flipper was dumb. His real name was Dave. I would be surprised if Dave ever got off his ass and did something. I wouldn't be surprised if he's dead from a heroin overdose. Flipper told me that everyone in the neighborhood knew what happened so, Kirk or someone else said something. My brother told my mom that there was a rumor I had sex on top of a van. She told me, "Now, it may not be true that you had sex with someone, you might have just been making out." I did not come out of my room for two weeks. I didn't eat except for a few things every couple of days. One day, my mom even brought food to me. All I wanted to do was kill myself. I wanted to set myself on fire in front of the bowling alley. I wanted people to realize that I was very hurt by the actions of Kirk and this rumor. It seemed like everyone came together to get all up in my business and to call me a slut, when they didn't know shit.

After I spent the two weeks in my room, I asked my mom if I could go see my grandparents. I went to see them for a few days. I needed that one-to-one attention and a change of scenery. I don't remember much about it. I don't think they really knew what to do with me. But I had an OK time, having email for the first time and smiling that my friends did care about me. I had difficulty believing that for a while.

I left my journal on my bed back at home. My mom found it and read it. She told me, she knew that something had happened. She thought I had sex. But she didn't even realize to what extent it was. And I think she realized the seriousness of it when the police were interviewing me. Then, they couldn't do anything because no one knew that it was rape. Fuck that. I know the difference between regretting sex and rape. I didn't ask this man to put his hands on me and he did. He violated me. And they took his side. They made me feel even more helpless, like I reached out for help and it was slapped away. Luckily, that record is sealed and according to them, no one has access to it. I don't want some fucking perv getting off on that shit.

I think I've ran out of steam for today but I feel I definitely have some ideas for stories and artwork.

Thanks for reading. It feels important to my healing journey to have a voice and an audience.

No Trigger or Worries

 I realized the other day that I don't worry about watching "That 70's Show." There was a time where it made me very uncomfortable because Hyde reminded me of Kirk. For a while, I thought that Kirkwood Smith was the guy who played Hyde. Kirkwood Smith was the dad, Red. Kirk reminded me of the 70's with his hippie van and just something about him. He was a pot smoker and probably had some parental issues like Hyde did too. I'm glad that I don't have to worry about that anymore. It feels like I can remember less and less of it. As far as PTSD, it's great. It means that the event is becoming more and more processed and less of an issue. :)

High School

I did this last night after work. This is what it felt like to throw up with I was fighting with that girl who said she was going to talk to Kirk.

More stuff came up for me this morning. Kirk talked to my mom once. He told her that I lied about my age. Let me tell you, I DID NOT LIE ABOUT MY AGE. He knew the whole time how old I was. I vowed to not lie about my age because my friend was always lying about her age and I didn't want to be a part of that. I thought she was getting herself into bad situations by lying about her age. Kirk was such a fucking slimeball.
I started wondering today about if anyone ever confronted Kirk about what happened. Of course he lied because what rapist is going to say he's a rapist? Really, who admits to that?!

I remember people saying that I was going to a certain high school, different than the one my brother and Kirk and a bunch of other people went to because I wanted to be with one boy. The truth is that I didn't want to be at the other high school. I didn't feel safe there. I also didn't want to be reminded about the time that I peed myself in 1st grade, which when you get around people from elementary school, sometimes they want to talk about the times you were embarrassed about. I knew my brother's friends and I know that my brother would hate if I dated anyone. I know his friends would be watching out for anyone talking to me. I also didn't want to see my ex boyfriend, Kirk, and the various people who contributed to passing around the rumor that I had sex on top of a van with an 18 year old. I really think I would have killed myself if I went to that school.

The high school I did go to felt like I was protected there. I mean the worse I went through was that my ex friend dated the guy I had crush on, two teachers didn't like me, and someone called me ugly. There was a lot that I was depressed about but those are the things at school that upset me. I got to be me without being "Casey's little sister" or whatever people would have called me-- possibly "slut." By going to the school I attended, I had a chance to be around my friends, to be me, and to develop as my own person; that was important to me.

I remember all throughout high school, I was worried about being called a slut. I was called a slut after the rape. I was really fearful about being called one again. I also thought that I was just dirty. It's taken me a while to get over that feeling.

Venus

Associations

Continuing on in the The Sexual Healing Journey, the author wrote about how there are people who are friends with the abuser or choose to hang around him and who you'll associate with the abuser. This is too true for me. As I've said before, I had one friend who was close with him and that was tough for our friendship. I thought that all they did was talk shit about me. I knew this wasn't completely true but in my mind, that's what they did.

On top of that, there were other people who just thought he was cool. He also knew so many people in the town. My brother, some of my brother's friends who I knew, some of my friends thought he was so cool. One time, someone said they saw his van and they thought it was cool. I think I turned white and said he wasn't as cool as they thought it was.
Another "friend" and I got into a fight over something stupid. This was back in the day of pagers. We had pager fights. She had the advantage of if she didn't want to receive messages, she could just turn off her pager. Mine had the option of voice mail and after she turned off her pager, she continued to send me messages.
At the height of this argument, she said that she had a class with Kirk. This made me immediately sick to my stomach. I didn't know if she was going to try to seduce him or if she was just going to talk to him about how stupid I was or if she was going to find out about how I was in bed, etc. I eventually threw up with her constant taunting. I know that a few days later, she left me a message, saying that she talked to my brother and that even he thought I was immature. But I wasn't sure how this conversation happened, did she just bother my brother until he said yes or did she bring it up in conversation and he said it? I think the first option would fit my brother better. I ignored it.
I was going through so much shit, I thought constantly about killing myself-- particularly in front of the bowling alley where the rape happened. It's like there was this thing in my head that said, just prove it to them. Die and you'll prove it. Die and people will take you seriously and they'll only have nice things to say because you're dead.
A few nights later, she wrote me a message, saying good night. I wrote good night back and it seemed like we were OK. There was a time when we said something like "I don't mind being friends with her but I don't know if she's ok with that." So, we just asked our friends how the other was doing. Secretly, I liked hearing that bad things happened to her. Now, not so much. I hope things have worked out for her because I guess there was a lot of crap that happened to her. There's a part of me that still doesn't trust her.

I can think of people I knew around the time of my rape and how I lost a lot of friends around that time. A friend of my brother's named Paul was also friends with Kirk. Somehow Paul and I have made it through and we're friends. I respect that he is a teacher and had a degree in psychology. It's interesting that he's not friends with my brother on Facebook. I don't know what happened between them but that's their thing.
James A was a friend of mine. I told him what happened. He told my ex who loved hearing that bad things had happened. Then it seemed to snowball from there so that everyone knew. Another contributing factor was my friend Danie (Danielle) who told her brother and her brother told everyone. Her brother spoke to my brother once and I don't know what was said. I thought they were going to beat up Kirk but they didn't.

The worse of it was my brother's friendship with Kirk. My brother had said that he was also accused of rape by a girl at school but nothing happened with that. Not only did my brother have Kirk in the house, invite him over to parties, he was mad at me for asking Kirk to leave. Kirk was hitting on some girls while he was over. I was pissed and I said I was uncomfortable. I was upset. I asked him to leave. I visibly shook around him, even when I tried to just get over it. It was like a cold had set inside of me. My brother has got mad at me for flipping Kirk off. I don't know what I'm supposed to do when my fucking rapist is hanging out with my brother.

At one point, Kirk and I were at one of my brother's parties. He tried to convince me that he didn't rape me and that we were cool. I think I let him think things were ok because when I was angry, people got mad at me. I didn't know what else to do or say. It was easier than confrontation. He then went on to hit on more girls. He left early after the police came to tell us to keep it down. And everyone followed him. I tried to hit on a few of my brother's friends. My brother was increasingly mad at me. I think I went through another deep depression after that.

On vacation, about three years later, my brother and I were watching a movie on MTV about a guy being charged with statutory rape. The guy was on the stand, talking about how she wanted to have sex, etc. I was getting upset. My brother, at that point, said, "What are you upset about, you wanted to have sex with Kirk." He was so mad and hateful. I left the room and cried. And we didn't talk much more about it. I couldn't believe that Kirk got to him too.

I remember two dreams which happened around the same time-- one where I pulled Kirk out of a booth in the dinner at the bowling alley and kicked him. And another one where I tried to leave town but I broke down in my little orange VW bug car and everything was the orange of his van.


Thanks for letting me vent and listening to me while I get through this.