forgiveness day: may 8th 2016

hey there, tee kaa here.


Here's a little something I wrote in May 2016. I needed this reminder right now, and I hope one of y'all can take this inspiration right now -


One of our groups at Timberline Knolls is body imagine. In this group we were given an assignment to write about five things we like about our body and three things that we do not like about our body.  I have done this assignment before. When I have done this assignment in the past, I have been really superficial with the body parts that I dislike and why I dislike them. For example, “I don’t like my stomach because it is fat.”  This time, I decided to be raw, authentic and vulnerable. I wrote that I hate my breast, my vagina, and my stomach and here is why…


I hate my breast because they were the main thing that Lou, my mom’s ex-boyfriend who molested me from the age of 15-16, would molest first.  My breast were the first thing the other guys, who molested me at the bowling alley and in my backyard from the age of 14-17, and Lou would touch.  They were the “starting point” to the abuse that I endured. I think that because they are so big, they were like a welcome sign for guys. I have heard reasons to be thankful for your breast.  I have been told that they are a part of the female body to add beauty. It is hard to think of something that has caused me such pain can be any type of beautiful. I have also been told that their purpose is to lactate and feed our babies after we give birth.  This does not make me thankful for them. I am turned off of the whole pregnancy and having a baby thing because of my trauma. I have told myself for a very long time that I do not intend to have children, after my pregnancy, I made this a “goal.” The idea that the function for my breast is to feed my baby makes me think that my breast are pointless because I will never need them for this reason.


I have true hatred for my vagina.  My vagina disgusts me. It has been the main attraction of my ultimate pain, the rape.  I am constantly reminded of my vagina throughout every day. When I think of my vagina, I think about the molestation, the rape and the pregnancy.  I was raped when I was 16. I was asleep in my bed and a friend of my brothers, who I did/do not know, came into my room and raped me in my bed. I used a sleeping aid to sleep at this time, and I did not wake up when he initially started to rape me.  By the time that I woke up he was already inside me. I was so scared. I wanted to scream so badly. However, I remained silent and refrained from screaming because there were four little children in my room sleeping, and I did not want to scare them.  My period also occurs in my vagina area. I hate my period. Each time I have my period I am reminded of the bleeding that occurred when I had my miscarriage. Thirteen weeks after I was raped, I went to an urgent care type place because I was bleeding more heavily than ever before and had extreme pains in my abdominal area.  While I was at the urgent care place being examined, the doctor looked up at me and said “I am sorry but you loss your baby.” I was shocked. I replied, “What baby?” It was in this moment that I learned I had and loss a baby. My period also reminds me of the first time I attempted suicide and was in the horrible state institution.  I had my period at this time and they did not allow me to have pads or tampons. I had to use toilet paper in my underwear in order to catch the blood. This was a horrible and disgusting experience, and this experience made me hate myself and my period. The idea that gaining back my period means that I have “failed ED” and have become healthy enough to regulate my period has caused my ED to rage.  For the longest time, I did not know the difference between ED’s voice and my voice. Now that I am able to notice the difference, I am less hateful of my period due to this reason.


I hate my stomach.  My stomach has been every size, I think.  I hate that my stomach growls and is loud for attention.  I hate all the knots I get in my stomach when I am anxious.  I hate the feeling of being full. I hate my stomach because it connects my breast to my vagina.  Awkwardly, I hate that my stomach did not get attention when I was being sexually abuse; this makes me think that it is ugly and not worth recognizing and that it was just in the way.  I definitely hate the amount of abuse my stomach would receive when I was being physically abused. From the age of 14-17 my birth mother physically abused me. She would take her fist or objects that were near her, like a hanger, and she would repeatedly hit me with them.  At the beginning she would attack me because I reminded her of my father, who passed away when I was 14 years old. They often fought and were in the process of getting a divorce when he passed. My birth mother often said his death was his way of leaving her stuck with us kids.  Her abusive episodes turned into abusing me whenever I displayed sadness or anger. She also abused me for being happy when she was not happy, which was often. She more times than not aimed for my stomach or my back. My birth brother, Patrick, abused me from a young age until I was 17 years old.   He often kicked or punched me in my stomach. Also,

I associate my stomach being bigger with the abuse that I endured; therefore, right now, my stomach scares me. I hate that my stomach scares me. To continue, my stomach is also the body part that I associate with pregnancy, because women’s stomach are what expands during pregnancy.  I hate that I associate the stomach with pregnancy. I do not remember my stomach changing during the short time that I was pregnant, but knowing that stomachs change during the pregnancy process, I associate pregnancy with my stomach. Sometimes I have dreams that I am pregnant, and the dreams feel so real. I wake up from the dreams with thoughts and sensations that I am actually, truly pregnant.  In these moments I hate my stomach the most, and I cruelly tell myself, “You are not pregnant, you are just fat.”


I have true hatred for my body, especially the parts that I have previously mentioned.  A part of this assignment was to write a sentence for each body part and say a reason why you are grateful for it.  I cannot see me ever being grateful for any of these body parts. For so long I believed that my body was this physical thing that I occupy.  I do not believe that my body is something that is mine to appreciate. I believe my body’s purpose is to be available for men to use to pleasure themselves or for others to use to let their aggression out.  I do not believe that I own my body or that my body is mine to do what I want with it. I honestly believe that my body is present to make other people happy. I’m disgusted with the fact that I believe these ideas.  I believed these ideas so much that I would become intoxicated and let men do what they wanted to do with my body for several years. I truly thought that this is what my body was meant for.


I need to take back my body.  I need to take ownership of my body and accept that my body is mine, for me.  I need to learn and accept that my body is meant for me to use to live and not for others to abuse.  My body makes me human. My body allows me to function as a human being in society. My body allows me to give and receive positive touch.  My body allows me to write, read, think and create art. My body provides me with a physical host for my mind, spirit and soul. Because I am alive and have a body, I am able to do my job, connect with others and grow spiritually and expand my mind.


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