Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Today I am very frightened. I already started thinking about Session 3 and cried myself to sleep last night. It made me physically ill thinking about today's assignment.
Session 3 Assignment:
Write a full account of the traumatic event and include as many sensory details (sights, sounds, smells, etc.) as possible.
Also, include as many of your thoughts and feelings that you recall having during the event.
Pick a time and place to write so you have privacy and enough time.
Do not stop yourself from feeling your emotions.
If you need to stop writing at some point, please draw a line on the paper where you stop.
Begin writing again when you can, and continue to write the account even if it takes several occasions.
Also, include as many of your thoughts and feelings that you recall having during the event.
Pick a time and place to write so you have privacy and enough time.
Do not stop yourself from feeling your emotions.
If you need to stop writing at some point, please draw a line on the paper where you stop.
Begin writing again when you can, and continue to write the account even if it takes several occasions.
Read the whole account to yourself every day until the next session.
Allow yourself to feel your feelings.
Bring your account to the next session.
Allow yourself to feel your feelings.
Bring your account to the next session.
While in the waiting room waiting for therapy for Session 3 I go ahead and begin. I am the only person in the waiting room:
We just recently moved to Illinois from Missouri. I've never actually sat down and figured out how old I was or what year it was.
8th grade 1997-1998
13 years old in Belleville, Illinois
7th grade 1996-1997
12 years old
1997 was in Belleville, Illinois
1996 was in St. Charles, Missouri
We moved to Illinois in January 1997. I started a new school half way through 7th grade, that January. I was 12.
I was 12.
I always told myself I was 13 without calculating.
I guess me thinking I was a "teenager" made me feel older.
I guess me thinking I was a "teenager" made me feel older.
I moved to a new state. New school. No friends. It was already half way through the school year.
I liked the idea of starting over. Being someone new.
One of my first friends was Jamie Stephens. Jamie, you don't hear that name often any more. I think it was spelt Jamie. Almost positive. It was.
She asked me to be my friend on Facebook about five years ago, and I immediately declined. I wouldn't even look at her profile picture.
I had pushed her out of my mind.
Jamie, in seventh grade, was beautiful. She was tall, blonde, smart, super friendly, had big boobs, and on the pom-pom squad. She was a person anyone would want as a friend. Everyone. She wanted to be my friend. She was/looked completely opposite of me. I wanted to be her with her huge smile of perfect white teeth. When we discovered we only lived about 10 houses down from each other, on the same street, it was like it was destiny.
But we didn't hand out much on evenings or weekends.
Probably because we were too young.
She got me to try out for the pom squad. I made it. I loved every minute of it. Then, when we didn't do pom, we both helped out the basketball coach keep stats (he was also the advanced algebra teacher) during the games.
I think it was May. It had to be around the end of 7th grade. I was 12 but would be 13 in June.
I remember I was later than most starting my period. I started when I was 13. I never grew boobs. I had dark, think hair. I was short. My teeth were "ehh". I wasn't in the popular group, but I was close.
I remember I was later than most starting my period. I started when I was 13. I never grew boobs. I had dark, think hair. I was short. My teeth were "ehh". I wasn't in the popular group, but I was close.
Jamie asked me to spend the night. I don't remember spending the night at a lot of places before, or after, the account (besides Kristie, my elementary school BFF). I got homesick often before the account.
I said yes. She had this super cool upstairs bedroom. The entire upstairs was her bedroom. I guess it was a redone attic. The only people that lived at her house was Jamie, her mom, and her brother, Kyle Stephens. I don't know anything about her dad.
I said yes. She had this super cool upstairs bedroom. The entire upstairs was her bedroom. I guess it was a redone attic. The only people that lived at her house was Jamie, her mom, and her brother, Kyle Stephens. I don't know anything about her dad.
His name just came to me a couple of weeks ago.
I never tried to remember it before.
I never tried to remember it before.
It had to be May because it was too hot to sleep in her room. I was nervous and scared about sleeping over.
I've only really spent the night at Kristie's. And I knew her since first grade.
I've only really spent the night at Kristie's. And I knew her since first grade.
I wasn't perfect in May when I was 12. I can remember sneaking out for the first time at Kristie's in 6th grade. We snuck through her window in the middle of the night to share one of her mom's cigarettes and a beer we stole from her mom's boyfriend. We walked down the road, shared the cigarette and beer, and walked back in. We thought we were cool and tough.
Kristie wasn't in Illinois. Kristie was safe. To me. She bossed me around, yes. I was the follower and she was the leader.
It makes me smile when I think of that. When I was 12, I was a follower. When I was 13 I was a leader. I will never be a follower again. I will always be a leader. My boys will be leaders. Good ones. I always try to be a good leader too.
Jamie was a new house to stay at, but she didn't sneak out or smoke or drink beer. She was a perfect angel. I wanted to be her.
It was hot, so we had to sleep downstairs in her living room. I was scared, nervous anyway, so I liked the idea that her mom's room was right behind the living room. Only a wall between us.
_________________________________________________________________
People just walked into the therapy room, so my concentration is lost. To be continued...
_______________________________________________________________
After therapy, 2 hours later:
I remember I had my first "kiss" (French- it was a HUGE deal at this age) in February when I was 12. It was at the "Teen Center" (a dance, hang out for teens) with a super tall basketball player with huge braces. It was one of those "going out" boyfriends. Don't remember how we started "going out" or how we "broke up". Probably just quit talking. I don't ever remember talking to him on the phone or hanging out other than at the Teen Center.
My first kiss was significant because it starts your sexual curiosity. You begin thinking about what will happen next. Nothing ever happened with the basketball player. In fact, I remember being one of the last of the people in my grade to have their first kiss, so I think it was a desperate act for both of us - who had never been kissed before.
Through Jamie I also met other kids in our neighborhood. They just so happened to be mostly boys: Neil, Jordan, Brandon, and Kristin.
Kristin was also perfect but her parents kept her on a tight leash. She even had to keep her (very serious boyfriend for our age) a secret. He would sneak into her house at night. Believe it or not, she was way more sexually experienced that any of us.
Jamie, Kristin, Neil, Jordan, and Brandon. Jamie got me into that group.
We were a group, but back then I was closest to Jamie. That all changed.
I was 12, spending the night at Jamie's for the first time. It was hot and in May, so we slept in the living room. The room right by her mom's. I felt safer than upstairs, even though the front door was 15 feet away... the thought of someone breaking in.
She had a big TV on the floor of her living room. We watched movies. I fell asleep on the floor in front of the TV.
I wake up. It takes me a while to figure out why I woke up. I think he must have touched me, I woke up, and he moved his hand back. I don't think I saw him. I think I fell back asleep because I soon woke back up. I woke up to her brother kneeling next to me. Touching me. I remember the feeling of the blanket still on top of me. Trapping me.
He was a senior in highschool. A popular, good looing one. He was a baseball star. I'd never talked to him before but had seen him around.
What did he want with me?
He started touching me all over. I was so confused. I didn't have any "experience" other than my first kiss. I didn't know what to do. He was so much bigger than me. He overpowered me. I remember pushing his hands away. I never yelled. Jamie was 10 feet from me sleeping on the couch. Their mom was in the next room. Me pushing him away didn't work. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to look. I was scared. He touched me everywhere. Under the blanket, under my pajama shirt, under my shorts, under my underwear. He touched whatever he wanted. I whispered no and stop with my eyes still closed. Maybe he thought I was sleeping? Maybe I wanted him to think I was so that I could pretend it wasn't happening. I don't know how long he did this. Not long. Maybe 10 minutes. My eyes we closed the entire time. I don't know why I kept my eyes closed.
Just writing this makes my legs strain and tighten. He finally left. Just left. Not a word. Went into his room. I was confused. I didn't know what to think or do. I was scared and laid awake the rest of the night. I didn't move. I waited there, I don't even remember where the bathroom was in her house. I didn't even get up to go to the bathroom. I waited there until Jamie woke up the next morning. I felt safer but was scared to see him. I left her house as soon as I could that morning,. I never said what happened to anyone. I never saw Kyle.
I started avoiding Jamie and started talking more to Neil, but he was a boy. He lived four houses down, but I trusted him. We never thought of eachother as more than friends - still to this day. And still, in 2014, I still keep in contact with Neil. He's a friend I'll always have.
I still hung around Jamie at school. She was one of my only friends, and she was perfect. It was just her brother. It wasn't her fault. She didn't know, and I wouldn't tell her. She was one of the only people I knew.
I think I was one of her closest friends too. As couple weeks later she asked me to spend the night again.
No.
I told myself no. Then I thought, maybe I can just stay away from Kyle and still have my friend. I remember somehow, without her getting suspicious, asking if we could sleep upstairs even though it was hot. I like listening to fans, it helps me fall asleep. I don't know if this came about before or after the account. Fans calm me.
She said yes.
I also knew it was prom weekend. I was 12, but knew. Kyle was very popular, he'd be at prom. He probably wasn't coming home after, right? I was in middle school (6th, 7th, 8th), and he was in highschool (9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th).
Somehow I started the prom conversation. He was going. He was going out with his buddies after. He wasn't coming home at all that night.
Upstairs and no Kyle. I said yes.
Why? I don't know.
We got ready for bed. Her mom said we had to sleep downstairs.
Why is this such a bug deal?
I couldn't speak up. I couldn't give a reason.
He wasn't going to be home anyway.
this time I slept on the second couch It had a side to protect me, even though he wasn't going to be there. It took me forever to fall asleep.
Why didn't I just go home? I was just down the road. Was it too late to go home? Would I look like a homesick baby? I was 12.
I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up. This time his hands didn't stop when I woke up. They were stronger. He did everything again but with more confidence.
I remember crying out: no, stop. I didn't cry out loud. Why not? Jamie was on the next couch. He told me to shush. My eyes stayed closed. When he was done, he left.
Somehow, maybe I was numb by now, but I fell asleep.
I awoke to his mom yelling, "What are you doing?" I opened my eyes. She was talking to Kyle. He was hovered over the side of the couch. Not touching me. Not talking. He just glared at me. He warned me with his eyes. He moved away from the couch. He said nothing.
Their mom had pancakes ready. I sat down as if nothing was wrong, and ate breakfast. Kyle sat across from me, next to his mom. He looked at me and purposely put his fingers to his nose and smelled them. Nobody noticed but me. This thought, to this very day, disgusts me.
He found out I was going to be there and came home after prom. He didn't say that. I just know. Did he tell his friends?
I left. I told Neil. I begged him not to tell. He promised me that we won't ever go around them, including Jamie, again.
We didn't. Jamie was out of my life. Not even during highschool.
I didn't tell another soul until 2008. I told my husband. One sentence, "I was molested by a friend's brother." He asked, "Did he rape you?" I answered, "No."
That was all that was said until this past year. I couldn't get it out of my head. I couldn't solve my own problems, and I reached out for help.
He did rape me. Kyle Stephens, then a senior in highschool, raped me when I was 12.
Blue comments we added to the original written account on Thursday, March 27th.
I also drew the following picture in my journal:
I can't remember what he looks like, no matter how hard I try.
My dad just moved back to Illinois. What if I see him again? Would I recognize him? What would David do?
_________________________________________________________________
People just walked into the therapy room, so my concentration is lost. To be continued...
_______________________________________________________________
After therapy, 2 hours later:
I remember I had my first "kiss" (French- it was a HUGE deal at this age) in February when I was 12. It was at the "Teen Center" (a dance, hang out for teens) with a super tall basketball player with huge braces. It was one of those "going out" boyfriends. Don't remember how we started "going out" or how we "broke up". Probably just quit talking. I don't ever remember talking to him on the phone or hanging out other than at the Teen Center.
My first kiss was significant because it starts your sexual curiosity. You begin thinking about what will happen next. Nothing ever happened with the basketball player. In fact, I remember being one of the last of the people in my grade to have their first kiss, so I think it was a desperate act for both of us - who had never been kissed before.
Through Jamie I also met other kids in our neighborhood. They just so happened to be mostly boys: Neil, Jordan, Brandon, and Kristin.
Kristin was also perfect but her parents kept her on a tight leash. She even had to keep her (very serious boyfriend for our age) a secret. He would sneak into her house at night. Believe it or not, she was way more sexually experienced that any of us.
Jamie, Kristin, Neil, Jordan, and Brandon. Jamie got me into that group.
We were a group, but back then I was closest to Jamie. That all changed.
I was 12, spending the night at Jamie's for the first time. It was hot and in May, so we slept in the living room. The room right by her mom's. I felt safer than upstairs, even though the front door was 15 feet away... the thought of someone breaking in.
She had a big TV on the floor of her living room. We watched movies. I fell asleep on the floor in front of the TV.
I wake up. It takes me a while to figure out why I woke up. I think he must have touched me, I woke up, and he moved his hand back. I don't think I saw him. I think I fell back asleep because I soon woke back up. I woke up to her brother kneeling next to me. Touching me. I remember the feeling of the blanket still on top of me. Trapping me.
He was a senior in highschool. A popular, good looing one. He was a baseball star. I'd never talked to him before but had seen him around.
What did he want with me?
He started touching me all over. I was so confused. I didn't have any "experience" other than my first kiss. I didn't know what to do. He was so much bigger than me. He overpowered me. I remember pushing his hands away. I never yelled. Jamie was 10 feet from me sleeping on the couch. Their mom was in the next room. Me pushing him away didn't work. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to look. I was scared. He touched me everywhere. Under the blanket, under my pajama shirt, under my shorts, under my underwear. He touched whatever he wanted. I whispered no and stop with my eyes still closed. Maybe he thought I was sleeping? Maybe I wanted him to think I was so that I could pretend it wasn't happening. I don't know how long he did this. Not long. Maybe 10 minutes. My eyes we closed the entire time. I don't know why I kept my eyes closed.
Just writing this makes my legs strain and tighten. He finally left. Just left. Not a word. Went into his room. I was confused. I didn't know what to think or do. I was scared and laid awake the rest of the night. I didn't move. I waited there, I don't even remember where the bathroom was in her house. I didn't even get up to go to the bathroom. I waited there until Jamie woke up the next morning. I felt safer but was scared to see him. I left her house as soon as I could that morning,. I never said what happened to anyone. I never saw Kyle.
I started avoiding Jamie and started talking more to Neil, but he was a boy. He lived four houses down, but I trusted him. We never thought of eachother as more than friends - still to this day. And still, in 2014, I still keep in contact with Neil. He's a friend I'll always have.
I still hung around Jamie at school. She was one of my only friends, and she was perfect. It was just her brother. It wasn't her fault. She didn't know, and I wouldn't tell her. She was one of the only people I knew.
I think I was one of her closest friends too. As couple weeks later she asked me to spend the night again.
No.
I told myself no. Then I thought, maybe I can just stay away from Kyle and still have my friend. I remember somehow, without her getting suspicious, asking if we could sleep upstairs even though it was hot. I like listening to fans, it helps me fall asleep. I don't know if this came about before or after the account. Fans calm me.
She said yes.
I also knew it was prom weekend. I was 12, but knew. Kyle was very popular, he'd be at prom. He probably wasn't coming home after, right? I was in middle school (6th, 7th, 8th), and he was in highschool (9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th).
Somehow I started the prom conversation. He was going. He was going out with his buddies after. He wasn't coming home at all that night.
Upstairs and no Kyle. I said yes.
Why? I don't know.
We got ready for bed. Her mom said we had to sleep downstairs.
Why is this such a bug deal?
I couldn't speak up. I couldn't give a reason.
He wasn't going to be home anyway.
this time I slept on the second couch It had a side to protect me, even though he wasn't going to be there. It took me forever to fall asleep.
Why didn't I just go home? I was just down the road. Was it too late to go home? Would I look like a homesick baby? I was 12.
I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up. This time his hands didn't stop when I woke up. They were stronger. He did everything again but with more confidence.
I remember crying out: no, stop. I didn't cry out loud. Why not? Jamie was on the next couch. He told me to shush. My eyes stayed closed. When he was done, he left.
Somehow, maybe I was numb by now, but I fell asleep.
I awoke to his mom yelling, "What are you doing?" I opened my eyes. She was talking to Kyle. He was hovered over the side of the couch. Not touching me. Not talking. He just glared at me. He warned me with his eyes. He moved away from the couch. He said nothing.
Their mom had pancakes ready. I sat down as if nothing was wrong, and ate breakfast. Kyle sat across from me, next to his mom. He looked at me and purposely put his fingers to his nose and smelled them. Nobody noticed but me. This thought, to this very day, disgusts me.
He found out I was going to be there and came home after prom. He didn't say that. I just know. Did he tell his friends?
I left. I told Neil. I begged him not to tell. He promised me that we won't ever go around them, including Jamie, again.
We didn't. Jamie was out of my life. Not even during highschool.
I didn't tell another soul until 2008. I told my husband. One sentence, "I was molested by a friend's brother." He asked, "Did he rape you?" I answered, "No."
That was all that was said until this past year. I couldn't get it out of my head. I couldn't solve my own problems, and I reached out for help.
He did rape me. Kyle Stephens, then a senior in highschool, raped me when I was 12.
Blue comments we added to the original written account on Thursday, March 27th.
I also drew the following picture in my journal:
I can't remember what he looks like, no matter how hard I try.
My dad just moved back to Illinois. What if I see him again? Would I recognize him? What would David do?
