To all women everywhere...

She is beautiful. She is a daughter, a sister, a friend...she carries her pain within her, and goes on every day pretending to be fine, pretending to be ok. She is the student struggling day in and day out to make ends meet. She is the model, hiding the truth from every snapshot. She is the mother, teaching her daughters the dangers of parties. She is me. She is you. She is women everywhere. This is not a new phenomenom, it has gone on for centuries. But we now have the right to talk about it, we can come together to support each other and when one of us feels like we are falling, slipping down into that famiiar deep, dark hole...we now have other survivors to pick us up and support us until we can stand on our own 2 feet again. Revel in this...for this is a new concept. I am not ashamed, and neither should you be. Look around you, the sad fact is majority of women you know have experienced this sorrow. We have no need to be shamed, for we did not do this to ourselves. When a thief goes in and robs a store...do we chastise the owner? Do we stand there and look at them an say "You should not have made money today! You should not have displayed what you own! Yo should be ashamed!" No, we do not. Therefore, neither should we chastise women who have been raped! We punish the theives, we shame THEM! We scold them and say "You had no right to take this! You had no right to enter their property and take what rightfully belongs to them!" So, my women, my strong, beautiful, courageous women... be not ashamed. Take pride in our strength and our support and remember if we are all alone, then we are all together in that too. I love you all and God Bless.

.

1065

One thousand and sixty five days. one thousand and sixty five days since i was murdered in the middle of the night, murdered but not killed... but yet somehow, in some little dark part of my mind, it tells me that it was the easiest part. 12 minutes and it was over, but so easily described as just the beginning... the worst part of my ordeal was not the act itself, wasn't the medication, wasn't even when i was put in a safe house for a few nights...nah the worst part is acceptance. I have accepted this fact, it happened, yes i could have been more careful but how could i have possibly known there was a predator lurking nearby...i couldn't have. simple as that. to those of you that believe that a girls appearance, attire, alcohol consumption, their attitude or anything plays a factor in this situation then explain this...why is it so many girls from all different backgrounds, situations and personalities are assaulted? The hardest part of this has been acceptance from other people...it happened, I realize that it is an ugly topic for many people, but i am a survivor, and if i need to talk about my experience to make me feel better, to make me feel like some good can come from it god damn it i will. for those that don't want to hear it, snap back to reality...it does happen, whether you admit it or not. if you want to judge me thats fine too, but know this...by judging me you judge every other female this has ever happened to. If you have been through it you should understand where im coming from...and to those that havent gone through it... you cant possibly understand thus your opinion is irrelevant. I was raped, and theres not a damn thing i can change...blame it on the way i was dressed, blame it on my flirtatious attitude, blame it on alcohol, blame it on whatever you want...but when it comes down to it... im blaming it on the sick fuckers that did it. so judge away...got something to sa, say it to my face...but you better be prepared for a good slug, for me and for every other girl.



© Kristin Bennett 2009

September 21st 2009.

Judas Kiss

Time is wasting, Dead flowers rise

Responding to your never ending lies

Hands wrapped around my throat

Signed in blood my final note



You carress my body so tender and true

My last breath will be given to you

Our tryst turns violent suddenly it seems

Nightmares morphed from bittersweet dreams



Your eyes define what you have become

Your life long gone, over, its done

I feel your breath close and near

My heart quickens, I'm paralyzed with fear



It descends upon me, your judas kiss

Mortality stolen, it won't be missed

I arise anew, my dead eyes gleam

Beautiful disaster, a chaotic dream



Strong and elegant, I find my prey

A child of the night, hidden from the day

I seek my revenge hunting each night

You're life will be extinguished no use for a fight.


© Kristin Bennett 2010

.

No Use Crying Over Spilled Blood

I hate this life I’m forced to live

I keep telling myself something’s got to give

But yet 4 years later I’m still stuck in this place

Still trying to put on a believable face

I still remember your smell, your touch, your hate

The look in your eye, your murderous traits

I despise you for the person I am

You slaughtered me like a wolf to a lamb

There is no going back, there is no way to heal

Every year at this time the breath of the reaper I feel

You are my life and you were my death

No different than an addict hooked to crystal meth

Would I take it all back you may all ask

The answer is no, despite this smothering mask

I’ve come to terms with the blood that’s been spilled

I no longer live with the shame and the guilt

This is my closure, this is my goodbye

If I can’t move forward, at least I can try.




© Kristin Bennett 2010


*** It's taken me a month to finish this... I started writing it October 20th, 2010 and finished tonight, November 20th, 2010.***

House of Cards

Awake again in a cold empty house

Listening to the wind raging outside

I wonder if the pain is worth it

When it all comes tumbling down

The card i've been dealt

So carefully placed

Til my house of cards comes crashing down

Will it all be a waste?



Don't leave i beg of you

Leave me alone I'm pleading

Just go, just stay

I have no idea what i'm needing



An empty bed consumed with irrational thoughts

My brain is over run

My body is shutting down it's done

The pain doesn't cease

The hate doesn't subside

My house of cards is collapsing

I'm drowning within this high tide



Don't leave i beg of you

Leave me alone I'm pleading

Just go, just stay

I have no idea what i'm needing



Self-mutilation from the inside out

My mind is being ripped apart

Every thought i have is proceeded with doubt

I hate you, I hate me

I hate the mirror in which I see

A torn girl fumbling

Atop of a shaky house of cards tumbling



Don't leave, Don't go

Don't stay, I don't want you to know

Just how easy my house of cards falls

How quickly I can lose it all.



© Kristin Bennett 2010

.

Passionate Verity

His words cut deep, slicing through my exterior

Yet again he makes me feel inferior

He says I'm stupid, I'll never amount to anything

I believed him, I believed many things

I believed he cared and I believed he was faithful

I believed it was love, now I know he was just hateful

He brought me down, tore me piece to piece

I once stood tall, now I can barely make it to my knees

Once confident and unwavering I now stand before you

Ashamed and quivering, but still it remains true

He would build me up and make me believe

And then rip it away proving it was make belief

I didn't know who I was or what I wanted

Even now that I'm stronger I am still haunted

Haunted from my past and who I was

Even though I have a man that cares and truly loves

I'll never be the woman I could have been

I'll never be judgemental or naive again

He pushed and pushed til there was no going back

Constantly on guard, constantly under attack

So be patient with me baby, although I know you deserve more

I have yet to heal, my heart is still sore

Walk me through recovery and hold my hand

One day I promise on my own I'll be able to stand

But until that time hold your tongue and keep your patience dear

I still have yet a lot of caution and a lot of fear

Life goes on with its scraped up parts

Bruised egos, dried out eyes and ripped up hearts

But with passionate verity we'll move on in time

Only to be encapsulized within the lines of this rhyme.

Since we last spoke..

By now you are probably thinking holy shit, it’s got to get better from here, and this has to be rock bottom. And again, you would be wrong…it gets worse. Once again I began the school year of 2008, bright eyed and hopeful. I obtained a room in Ottawa, some of my credits had transferred over, I knew a few people already, my family was only an hour away instead of 8 hours… I had a fighting chance at least. Well, I would have had a fighting chance had my anxiety, depression and pure hate for the world had not gotten the best of me. Just the thought of sitting in a lecture still sends my heart racing, the thought of being just a number, being demoted to one person out of hundreds… I don’t know why this is. It may be the feeling that I have no control over the situation, or that it’s just far too impersonal but regardless… I dropped out after the first semester and moved home. I moved back to Renfrew despite the protests from my family and friends.
Renfrew is a great place to raise a family, a great place to retire, but unfortunately a not-so-great place for a young girl who has no idea who she is or what she wants from life. It began off alright with me finding a job and paying my rent myself, taking responsibility for my actions. But at this point it was like I was on a path of self-destruction that was impossible to stop, although every part of me was screaming for help it didn’t matter. It would have been the equivalent of a Stop sign in the middle of an avalanche… the snow isn’t going to stop and in the end it just buries the signs. I wanted numb. I was sick of feeling, sick of hurting, sick of being dead…so what did I do? Instead of being 6 feet under and clawing my way out, I buried myself down 12 feet and threw some cement on top. I started off doing a hit of ecstasy about 1 or 2 times a month, then I did it on Saturdays, then every Friday and Saturday. I started lying and stealing to pay for my habit, I was out at the bar every night drowning any emotion I could possibly have. It was great, I was on top of the world, in my little town I was queen shit and nobody dare mess with me. I finally had the power back, I could control the situation again, and people listened when I spoke. What I didn’t realize is that the only reason they were listening was because either they wanted to be as high as me or they were as high as me. I made a ton of friends, all users, all wanted the hook ups and deals that only I could get them. I was now dealing out of the bars to feed my addiction, stealing from my friends, betraying the trust of my family and killing myself in the process. I began dating Cory, a guy I had ironically met while doing my student placement at the probation office. Worst mistake ever.
Cory never hit me, never once laid a hand on me but in retrospect bruises would have healed a hell of a lot faster than the damage he did to my self-worth. Cory was a user as well, which obviously did not help my addiction and it was like adding fuel to the fire. I was made to believe that I was worthless, fat, ugly and that I would never get another man as good as him and that I was lucky he’d even take the time in his day to speak to me…and I believed him! I believed that he was the best I could do, I believed I needed him and that he was my be-all-end-all. He got ecstasy, mushrooms and acid for the two of us on a regular basis, using my money of course, and when I couldn’t afford it I would pawn off my belongings. I can’t even begin to say how much I regret every moment of this, but you asked for my story and I said I would give it start to finish. I would like to assure you though, that as I write this, the thought of what I put my family and my true friends through is beyond regret and remorse, I have tears pouring down my face and my heart is in the very pit of my stomach. Whoever said that one should never regret anything that taught them a lesson clearly has never seen the look in their father or mother’s eyes when they are told that their baby girl has a drug addiction. Anyways, Cory was using me for money, food and a place to crash and I was using him as a false sense of security… fair trade off I suppose. By Christmas 2008 we had been doing some form of drugs almost every second day, and drinking every day, with Cory even going to court high on numerous occasions. I had been getting in many fist fights, had several encounters with the police at this point and had been involved in at least one big investigation pertaining to Cory. Then the beginning of the end came about March 17th, 2009 with my final big bender on St. Patrick’s Day, my final scream for help.
St. Patrick’s Day I went out with my friends and was offered mushrooms, which I took without question. I then proceeded to invite over 20 people back to my small apartment, where I did several other drugs and my neighbour kicked us out at 5 am. The next day I received a phone call from my dad saying he was coming by my apartment, and I quickly got a taxi ride over to meet him. My dad and my mom (Pam) told me that they had some stuff they wanted to talk to me about and escorted me upstairs into my apartment, my dad then received a phone call and went downstairs. I was told to sit down on the couch and my dad came back upstairs, followed by my mom (Leanne) and stepdad. At this point I was in pure and utter shock, my mom and dad, to my knowledge had not spoken in years. This was an intervention, whether I liked it or not something had to change and it was changing now. After hours of discussion, a lot of tears, heartache and confessions we came to an agreement on a few things. First of all, I needed help and I couldn’t do this on my own so I was to be sent to Pathways for drug counselling as well as Mental Health for a regular counsellor. I was also to move into my parents’ house until I got back up on my feet, to allow my parents to keep a closer eye on me and so that I wouldn’t have the added stress of trying to find a new apartment right away. I had moved within a week and began counselling right away. Then came the next obstacle and some explanation as to why I began the drug abuse in the first place.
Now I’m not saying that I’m not taking full responsibility for my actions, because I am without question, however there is an explanation as to why I felt the need to use in the first place. My dad posted a YouTube video about borderline personality disorder on Facebook, and I, being the curious person I am, watched it. Roughly 30 seconds into the video I began sobbing uncontrollably, this was my cathartic release, this is where everything came together to make sense. I had every single symptom of Borderline which are as follows:
• Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment
• A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation
• Identity disturbance, such as a significant and persistent unstable self-image or sense of self
• Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating)
• Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behavior
• Emotional instability due to significant reactivity of mood (e.g., intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days)
• Chronic feelings of emptiness
• Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights)
• Transient, stress-related paranoid thoughts or severe dissociative symptoms
I called my father right away and we went for a long drive and discussed the next steps. The next day my mom (Pam) and my dad drove me to Ottawa to the Civic hospital where I saw the doctor on duty in the emergency room. I was referred to the psychiatrist in the hospital, and I reluctantly went to see her. Right away she prescribed me anti-anxiety medication to help with my panic attacks and some anti-depressants to assist in slowing down my thoughts and balancing the chemicals. I also began Cognitive Behaviour Therapy in which I must reprogram my thought processes and how I react to my emotional states. This diagnosis originally complicated things, as I was left wondering whether or not the emotions I felt were actually real, whether the love I felt for someone was real…or if it was all just symptoms of BPD. During this time when I was seeing the psychiatrist in Ottawa I was unable to work because of my anxiety, I attempted working in a factory however unfortunately that only lasted 2 weeks. My stress level was far too high to add anything else to what I was already dealing with. I applied to Ontario Works and got on it, which results in my next big issue.
When I decided to go to school again Ontario Works (OW) supported me wholeheartedly and reassured me throughout the whole process that I would continue to have their support. They lied. They said that they would assist me in paying my tuition (as I do not qualify for OSAP), they would help with my books and school supplies. I continued to try and find another means to pay for my school and applied to some student lines of credit as well as credit cards…both which I was declined. My next meeting with OW I was informed that they could not pay for my tuition, however they would still be able to assist me with my books and school supplies. Then, on my birthday I was told that they could not help me out with anything and that they would be cutting me off assistance all together. This left me with no way to pay my rent in my house in Haley Station, no way for transportation to get to school, no groceries, no phone, no internet…essentially nothing. I was left with 2 choices… either find some way to make it work…or drop out again. I felt as though without school I would end up right back where I was a year prior so I fought with every inch of my being to make it work. It was wonderful for the first month…and then the issues at the school began.
The issues at the school started with my volunteer hours, which I had submitted by the due date, however there was a misunderstanding with the way the course co-ordinator worded his expectations. Due to this misunderstanding the Dean then attempted to remove me from the program… just one more chance to grow stronger. I contacted the Ombudsman for the college, the head of Algonquin in Ottawa, as well as the Ottawa Sun & Citizen and I fought it with everything I had. The Dean claimed that my hours were fraudulent, said that due to my BPD I was “not of sound mind” to be in the program etc. but when it came down to it… my hours were accepted and I had won yet another battle. After this incident however it seemed as though my teachers took a dislike to me… I was pulled into the office over a plagiarism issue. My communications teacher believed that I had plagiarised an “I Believe” paragraph in which I described “Jedi Powers” and contrasted them against Reiki and explained the similarities. During the meeting I demonstrated my knowledge of Star Wars in order to prove that I did indeed write the paragraph from my own common knowledge…and the issue was dropped. Another issue I had was with my school books, which there was no way I could possibly afford. I ended up going through my whole first semester only purchasing and using my psychology book. I borrowed the other books here and there, took extensive notes in class and studied almost on a nightly basis to make it work. Finally, a week before my exams my beloved dog, Abby, hit my laptop off of the coffee table and it fell a foot onto the floor. The way the laptop hit the floor broke the head off of the hard drive, thus rendering useless and all the data over the past 3 months was lost. I ended up studying the slides and leaving all of my exams with excellent marks, generally around 80%. All of these issues did not discourage me though…it just forced me to prove how much I truly wanted my diploma this time.
My goals for the future are to get my Social Service Worker diploma from Algonquin College and then go on to finish my university education. I feel as though despite the past 4 years that I am a strong, independent young woman who is more than capable of achieving this. I am focusing my studies on rehabilitating youth who have been involved in the legal system. I am currently doing a placement at the Boys and Girls Club here in Pembroke, and am facilitator of a group called “Take It Easy”. Take It Easy is a group of girls aged 9-12 who come together on a weekly basis to learn about self-esteem, violence, body image and self-respect. I am also volunteering at The Grind, which is a local youth drop-in center where kids can learn how to play guitar, play some video games, and just have a safe haven to hang out. I am also working at Please Mum, a children’s clothing store, however I am currently only getting about 8-10 hours a week, which is not near enough to pay my rent, groceries, phone bill, internet etc. not to mention I have been walking roughly 40 minutes just to get to work because I cannot afford to take a cab. I have made such lifestyle changes in the past year it’s hard to even look back at who I was…that’s why I just keep moving forward one baby step at a time. All I want in the world is to finish my schooling and help those who are going through what I have gone through, make a difference in someone’s life, make all my mistakes worthwhile in some way. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and God bless.

Take It Back...

"Once again I feel my rage building up, coming to a boil within my damaged heart. My glazed over eyes glare at a picture of the girl i once was, and i yearn to be her again, oh how i yearn to be naive, and untainted. Crisp tears stream down my face, as I am speechless, unable to determine how or what has built up this anger within me. Memories of their murderous act fly through my treacherous mind over and over. I want to scream... I want to break down and sob... I want to be who I was. But I am just a hollow shell of who I once was, just a shadow looming over a grave site. Take it back, I beg of you... just make this pain go away. Give me bruises, cuts and wounds, at least they can heal...but this...no this will never heal. I am broken, just a memory fading with time, just another girl who lost her soul."

Sweet Dreams of Fatality

In death i have learned to live
With blindness I have learned to see
In taking my life you left me;
With nothing left to give
You opened my eyes to a new life
One full of misery and distraught
I pray that one day you are taught
The pain and heartache that you have brought
So many women have died
Like me tears of rage and hatred they have cried
Desperate for a reason, desperate to know why
How you could destroy someone so unaware
And live with your self-assuring lie
So cunning, and heartless to lure us into your lair
Look into your eyes and you will see
An unraveling lie within a hidden truth
Haunting and stalking your every move
It's not me that must live with your guilt
For I am deadIt's your heart that's going to shrivel and wilt
It's you who made your bed
So sleep sweet, and dream of the night you took my last breath
I am going to celebrate my enlightening death

Well ladies and gents, here we are...2 years ago tonight I was raped, 2 years ago tonight my soul was snatched away and my heart ripped out of my chest. I will never forget this night, much like one never forgets their first kiss, or their first love...I will never forget my first true death. I think that this is much like an open wound... It can heal, and the pain becomes numb...but you will always have that daunting scar reminding you of what has happened. Just like an open wound salt can be thrown in to make it sting and burn, and just like a wound there are bandaid solutions like medicine to numb the pain...neither are healthy. My wound is still very much so in the healing process, everyday I learn new ways to deal...to put stitches in my wound if you will, but eventually it will close and my life will go on leaving me only with some minor scars to attend to. 2 years and counting...and everyday I pity those poor bastards more and more. The law may not have justice, but one day God will...I await the day anxiously.

2 years later

2 years ago i was reborn
killed my soul
and left me a heart thats torn
2 years later can i say that im whole?
not yet,not ever
not after that fateful endeavor
you look forward, no need to look behind
i live in the past, cant get you off my mind
if only i could do it all over again
maybe now i'd have some trust in men
i live in the past
wishing everyday would be the last
2 years now, and i cant let you go
you are the cause of my every sorrow and woe
when will the memories leave
when will i get some relief
ghostly touches overcome my will
unable to think and keep my thoughts still
2 years now and i still await the day
when justice will prevail and God will have his way.

Surely, this must be hell

Like cancer your dark captivation eats me from inside, growing and taking over my very soul... I try to push you out day after day but still you yearn for my life. Why can you not leave me be? Why can you not let me live? You are a parasite sucking the life from my blackened heart. You slither around throughout my body, infesting your way into my mind but yet I cannot find you...I cannot be rid of you. Your presence haunts my every thought, the boogeyman lives in my closet of skeletons and he isn't afraid to show his face every now and then. When I sleep nightmares plague me, like the black death seeping quietly into a peaceful village. I awake to find that the nightmares are real, as though Freddy runs rampant on my street... there is no end. I close my eyes praying for salvation but when they open I stare into his charred face, my eyes frightfully wide surely there must be a way out of this house of horrors? Like Dahmers you eat me from the inside out taking every last piece of calmness and peace. Why do you torture me so? Everytime I take a few steps forward I fall back as you stab me in the back as though you were Mr. Voorhees looking for revenge. Your demonic being forever intertwined with my purity...forever lingering on my tainted consciousness. At this stage of hell there is no escape.

Because I Am

I am strong because I am weak
I am beautiful because I know my flaws
I am a lover because I am a fighter
I am fearless because I have been afraid
I am wise because I have been foolish
& I can laugh because I have known sadness.

Tabula Rasa

Tabula Rasa: A need or an opportunity to start from the beginning.

An opportunity to start from the begginning has been given to me, how it has been given to me nor whom it is from. I have been accepted into a new university, a chance for a new life, one which is not plagued by the constant fear of seeing the rapist in the streets every time i go out, one where I do not constantly see the campus on which I was raped. This new life is a chance for hope and a bright future. I am still unsure of whether or not I will tell my new classmates, friends, and acquaintances about my past at brock...on one hand it is a chance to stat a completely new life leaving this demon behind....on the other hand should I continue to tell people to warn them about the dangers of drinking?? It is a conundrum indeed, one that I am going to have to take a long time thinking about.
In other news my article was published in the July 16th Renfrew Mercury newspaper and I have been getting alot of positive responses. I now plan to submit an editorial to the Ottawa Citizen or Ottawa SUN and hopefully make my story more well known and give survivors a voice. This is such a taboo topic, and nobody likes to hear about it...well my friends I'm going to make people listen. Like it or not.

PTSD=OCD?

I have decided to attempt to receive compensation through the Criminal Injuries Compensation Board. It sounds as though it is going to be a long process, one that involves the re-hashing of many suppressed memories. This worries me as I have come such a long way in the past few months since being home…I’m terrified of becoming completely withdrawn and emotionally secluding myself again. Just today I put some calls through to enquire about the application process and whether or not I could receive a copy of the statement I made to the police in October 2006. This alone resulted in an anxiety attack. My chest tightened, I couldn’t breathe, I became extremely agitated and unable to concentrate or sit still… consequently I had to leave my office and go for lunch early. It took about an hour for me to calm down, and even still 5 hours later I am agitated and completely OCD. I have been cleaning non-stop, making lists; everything has to be perfect and methodical. I believe this may be a way for me to take my mind off of the assault, but it’s completely uncontrollable. I tried to sit still and concentrate on my case files but then my mind starts screaming at me “fix your papers”, “arrange your pens”, “file your cases”…it’s extremely annoying, but if I don’t do it the screaming gets louder and louder until I can’t bear it anymore and I end up cleaning again. Who knew a symptom of PTSD would be Obsessive-Compulsive behaviour??? I am putting off searching for information for the case for today…going to wait until I am at home and I’m allowed to be OCD.

To The Editor

This is the letter I am submitting to my local newspaper in hopes of being published. Just one more way to reach the young girls out there, just one more way to protect you, your sister, your mom, your child...your family. Help spread the awareness even if it's just printing it out and showing someone!

To The Editor:
With the end of another school year, many young girls will be going away to College and University; this is just a friendly reminder to all the girls.
I am a daughter, a sister, a student, and I am a survivor. On October 21st 2006, I being a naïve 18-year-old freshman, at the University of my choice, thought that I had made it through. I had made it through high school and I was on my way to discovering who I was and what I was all about. Unfortunately, there were other plans in store.
I, like every single female out there has a right to say no, a right to be safe wherever I go, and the right to drink and not be worried about what life altering consequences there may be. This, ladies, is not a reality today; we do have these rights. However, the game has now changed. Although we may say no, they don’t always listen. Although we should be safe, they don’t always make us feel safe. Although we should be able to drink carefree, we can’t anymore. It took 12 minutes for me to go from an independent, strong, motivated young woman to become a terrified, unsure, dependent quivering girl. Every movement, every smell, every sound can be recalled perfectly. Flashbacks, nightmares, paranoia, and anxiety attacks all are apart of what the rapist has left behind. One night of “fun” is not worth the lifetime of regret.
After my assault I went to the hospital, just like I was taught to. I had pictures taken of bruises, I was given my options for pressing charges, and I was given pills; pills for every possible STD imaginable. Up to this point I had held on I did everything methodically and in a daze. I didn’t cry at the hospital, I didn’t cry until they brought up HIV/AIDS, the thought that because of one careless move on my part that I could die in consequence was too much for me. I took the medication, and to be honest I’m not sure what was worse: the rape itself or the cost it carried with it. I was very fortunate, as I survived the attack and there were no other complications, besides my mental health of course.
I am still in counseling to this day, and I am still learning to cope with what has happened to me. It is a long, grueling process, one I would rather you didn’t have to go through. Learn from my mistakes. I beg you; learn from my experiences because this is one you do not want to go through.
With this having been said, I urge all the girls out there, especially those going away to college or university this fall to be careful. Don’t leave your drink anywhere, even with a friend. As much as your friend has your best intentions at heart, someone else might not. Don’t get caught anywhere alone; don’t walk home alone; don’t go to the bathroom alone; and if there is a party in your house, do not go to your room alone. Bring a friend with you and lock the door as soon as they leave. A majority of taxi drivers are safe, but there is the minority that are not safe so again, don’t get into a taxi alone. A lot of it sounds like common sense; however, after a night out with a few drinks, many girls forget these simple rules that could prevent against an assault. Remember these, and pass them on to your friends and family. Don’t become a survivor…don’t become another statistic like me.
- Kristin Bennett

The Moment She Cried

I've been dealing with a lot of flashbacks recently, I'm not sure if it is because of the counselling im attending weekly or if it's because of the crime shows I watch nightly...probably a bit of both. I would like to make a clear definition of a flashback... there is remembering and then there are flashbacks. Remembering is a controlled reminiscing of the assault..I can sit here and remember detail by detail the events. In contrast flashbacks occur very suddenly, are very powerful in nature and can include physical sensations...touch, hearing, smell etc. When I get flashbacks I feel...i feel everything all over again. My throat tightens, my body curls in repulse, my heartbeat is elevated, and I become extremely fearful all over again...rational or not this is what happens. It begins with a trigger... a smell, a word, a shirt being too tight around my throat, a vivid scene on a movie... and it ends with me huddled in a corner traumatized and terrified all over. I recently mentioned this to my counsellor (the only one I have connected with and actually UNDERSTANDS..she's nothing short of amazing!) and she developed a method to calm myself during these flashbacks.
She asked me to remember the assault...and then she asked me to remember the first time i felt safe after the assault. The first time I knew I was no longer in danger and it was over. This time for me was at my friend's house, when Amanda came downstairs and hugged me...I knew I was safe when I could cry. The moment that first tear ran down my cheek when Amanda was sitting at my side. I knew I was safe, I knew it would be ok, I knew it was over. This image of that sole tear running down my cheek is one I will cherish forever, the one that is going to pull me out of that dark ominous hole when I lay tarnished at night.
I urge those that have been through this to discover their moment...that moment they knew they would be ok. Find the moment that you cried.

Stranger In My Eyes

There’s a stranger in my eyes
She’s taking over my thoughts
She’s taking over my life
I struggle and fight, sometimes I win, sometimes I see me
Sometimes she wins for weeks on end
This stranger doesn’t like people
She doesn’t like happiness, or kindness, or love
She despises it
It makes her feel weak, she needs to be punished
This stranger has no remorse, or pity, or compassion
She despises it
It makes her feel human, she needs to be punished
Sometimes when she wins I let her take over
Sometimes the struggle is too much
When she takes over I am distant
But if you’re distant…you’re untouchable
She’s taking over my thoughts
She’s taking over my life
This stranger in my eyes…I wonder will she become me?

* This poem describes the struggle between who i was and who i have become. When i look in my eyes i no longer see the person i was, but a new person...one that is cold, distant and horribly angry. I'm terrified that this is who I am going to become all the time, I don't want to be like this...but maybe it's inevitable after what has happened?

The Outside of The Wall

Outside the wall. Brick after brick a wall has been put up, a wall which prevents from hurt, disappointment, and sadness. A wall which has been so carefully built up after many different experiences, which are hard learned lessons...none the less this wall was built up within a matter of a few years, not a lifetime like most people think. Each brick has a name, a date, a place...included with the harsh words of a loved one, or the devestating actions of someone whom i thought cared, or the complete disregard of life from complete strangers. Either way, these bricks have become something to hide behind, something i can count on when the going gets tough. I can hide behind my wall and not worry about other people or what they think... I am not so uncommon in this, I would even go as far to say that everyone has a wall...whether its proportionate to a fence...or to unimaginable heights...we all have one. My wall was more of the latter...i would hide behind this wall, but it got to the point where i couldn't find my way back to the outside, i was trapped in the darkness, the dark side of the moon if you will. Brick by brick i am learning to let go...brick by brick the light seeps in...brick by brick i am discovering that those who truly care are willing to help take down the wall...where as those that don't care no longer add bricks. For once I am saying... It's good to be on the outside of the wall.

OUTSIDE THE WALL - Pink Floyd
All alone, or in two's,
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists
Make their stand.
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall.

Frustration, Hurt, Anger and Hate

** This was also wrote back a while ago

The natural human response to danger is FLIGHT or FIGHT, so i wonder how can we possibly determine which one we are? How is it we can train in martial arts for years...and when it matters...when it REALLY matters turn into a disoriented mess? Should fighting not have been engrained into our system??? And i wonder...does this response carry on even though the trauma has already been done? There are people who go through a great deal of pain and suffering and come out completely on top...they turn it into an amazing wonderful powerful thing....and there are others, me, who again turn into a cowardly disoriented mess. So this response, this engrained human response that we have no control over... does it last our whole life? When I'm hurt, when i'm upset, when i'm confused...i run, i hide, and i submit, but this isn't what i was taught, this isn't what i have learned and trained for over and over again. I hate it, I want to stand up and fight, i want control, but my knees...they are too weak, i cannot stand. My heart...is not strong enough, I caznnot fight. My mind...is disoriented, i cannot gain control. I wonder, do they feel the pain, do they suffer as I do? Because I suffer, every single day I do...they say there is a God, they say if you worship this God that you will be a free man, you will be a strong worthwhile person, that God will pick you up and carry you threw the dark times. Well I am in the darkest of prisons like so many before me...Where is this God? Deliver me from evil??? I feel more like you submitted me to it. I am angry and I turn against my family..the ones thaT have been there...but those that made me angry, I can't touch. Everyone says their day will come, what goes around comes around, that karma will reign... I say WHEN? I have been denied, not once, not twice, not three times, but four times... justice? I do not know the word. So, I ask this one simple question Why?

My revenge

This is older...I wrote it a couple of months back. If only it worked this way...

I want to hurt youI want to smash your knees with the biggest aluminum baseball bat i can find
I want to blow your brains out with a shotgun and watch them ooze down the bloodstained wall
I want to cut your tongue out with a rusty dull razor just to see you squirm
I want to yank handful upon handful of hair out of your head to make you cry
I want you to die
I want to be the one that kills you, and i want to do it slowly
Bamboo under your nails
Jab a needle in 1000's of times making little trails.
I hate you
I despise you
I want to cruelly snatch away your soul as you brutally killed mine
If i had ten minutes with you...there would be nothing left
I hope you say the things you want to say now...because soon You wont have the tongue to say it with.
Have a good life you piece of shit...Cause when i get a hold of you, you won't be around much longer.

♥always the girl who has your sick face scarred into her mind