The Results of Rape and its Appendages

Part I

I know I haven’t written in quite a while; for several reasons. I am disappointed that people are not commenting.


My last post, “Its All Rape in the End” was pretty heavy and I know there are other women out there who have been raped. Raped is forcing a person to have sex against his or her will; whether it’s by a family member, friend, non-friend, on a date, given a date-rape drug… It’s like I’m talking to myself and I know there are other women out there who have stories of their own of overcoming.

The other reason is I have seen that people, in general of course, do not like the truth. What really bothers and often vexes me is if you are a person who calls yourself a Christian; truth is a standard that one should be living 24/7, in all aspects of life whether good, bad or ugly. Instead what is embraced is’ foo-foo’ living; tolerance, rebellion, unholy, unrighteous, entertainment, all smiles, worldly… You get the picture.

So, I really hope you comment – join in – tell someone about this Blog - let me hear ya.

I felt I needed to share what happens to a woman when they are raped and quite frankly I’m not sure where to begin because it is so encompassing to the soul and spirit.

When I was first raped I tried to shove it under the carpet. My girlfriend didn’t believe me, even though I had never flirted with him or even had one fleeting thought of wanting to know him like that. I first met him because he rode the same bus to school, he was also a boyfriend to a different girlfriend of mine and I knew is sister. He was a handsome guy, but more on the quiet side and I liked guys that engaged in conversation and adventurous; so all in all he wasn’t my type. Anyways the trauma from losing a girlfriend, being raped by her boyfriend, working two jobs, going to college, I just put the white elephant in the middle of the room and called it a day. But it slowly eroded my confidence and trust in the male species, which ultimately caused a rebellious mind set to all in authority.

There may be some of you who may not like to hear what I am about to say, cringe at the thought, and may want to take me to the edge of the city and stone me, but anyone who knows me, knows I’m gonna say it. God created men to be the head, the covering, the ultimate authority, the ones on the front line in war and making the hard decisions. And because a man raped me I lost could no longer trust and put my 100% in that trust and know ‘he’ would protect me, because ‘he’ didn’t. Last I read in the Bible Jesus came to this earth as a man. Eventually, the mis-trust and lack of confidence in men was sub-consciously transferred to Jesus, because after all He did come as a male. Pretty deep. So, if you don’t believe what I am saying or can’t discern this, pray and ask the Holy Spirit to reveal it to you and then you’ll get it.

Oh, I need to put this on re-wind for a moment. The women’s lib movement was really getting under way in the late 60’s and early 70’s. I had another girlfriend whom I knew since the 9th grade and we both caressed the women’s movement wholeheartedly from the very beginning, was a faithful follower of Ms Magazine and definite cheerleaders for the movement. I was very avid about women’s rights and when I had to work and train men I kept up with them physically, because if I couldn’t pick up 50 lbs and do the physical work I need not be there. And when I had to train men, I spoke right from the start what the perimeters were in the job i.e., don’t be late after breaks, keep up with me, and no goofing off unless you see me do it; or you’ll be out of here. There was no room for mistakes. Okay now we have that foundation laid.

Imagine being indoctrinated with women’s rights (which also included homosexual rights and every ungodly thing) and the fast, growing attitude of being a rebel. Definition of rebel: person who fights against or resists established authority. I’d say that sure enough covers a lot of ground.

Oh just remembered one more important factor. After dinner my mother would clear off the table and my dad would give my brother and me a topic (usually controversial) to debate. He would assign my brother and me to debate for or against and my dad would take the opposite side. Dad insisted that these after dinner debates would cause my brother and me to think. Little did he know what he ignited in my little pee shooter of a brain…

So armed and dangerous with all of the above I basically was hell on wheels, cause you couldn’t tell me too much. And the more authority would hurt me or even if I assumed hurt, the harder my heart got and I dug in. “No man was going to tell me what to do.” Ever said that? Pride is a big factor of rebellion and between my German and Scottish heritage, I had plenty to start with at the beginning of my life at conception.

When I worked for the federal government I became a Union Steward. I was furorous in my dealings with management. Needless to say they did not like to see me coming. I only lost one case, but I made the director of that particular department feel so bad as soon as there was an opening she promoted the person I represented. And what was so bad the local union did not have up to date federal manuals, so I would go up to Human Resources and insist on seeing their books. At first they wouldn’t do it, but then I would stand there and quote FPM, Chapter such and such, Sub-chapter and down to the last jot and title; and stand there saying no more until the precious policy manuals were handed over. They would ultimately oblige. The director of Human Resources eventually gave me permission to come in quietly and take the manuals to a nearby table, peruse and study policies. I absolutely loved it; one because in my mind I was helping the underdog and two because I was successful and feared. Feared not by management only but by the people who felt they had a grievance. I wouldn’t represent anyone if they were at fault, would tell them so and counseled them to get their act together. I always believed I was being fair and just.