forgiveness is overrated

forgiveness is overrated

“I was given no chance to explore love and intimacy; to choose to share my body with a chosen one; to have a choice the first time I let another human enter my body; to find comfort and joy in sexual intimacy.”


SELF TALK - forgiveness is overrated


Is my anger showing? So you want to tell me that healing starts with forgiveness? That I have to “let it go” to be whole? To realize that Jesus - Allah - Buddha - freakin’ strangers I don’t know - love me?


I mean, thanks for caring and for your advice, but...


[I’m fifteen, dick in throat; choking; strangling; he doesn’t notice or care that I can’t breathe; I pray for him to just get off or fuck me. Anything to not suffocate before he’s done.]


HELL, FUCKING NO! 

Forgiveness is NOT in my cards. Not while nobody is holding him accountable. 

Forgiveness is overrated. 

Forgiveness is why the abusers don’t do significant, if any, jail time. 


- Forgiveness is why a bus driver can rape a 14 year old girl and go free with just a warning to stay away from underage girls; the judge reasoning that, “He only raped ONE victim, and she did drink alcohol, afterall.” 


- Forgiveness lets you kill a girl’s parents and lock her in a cage, starve and rape her for months, yet get no jail time because you are “mentally ill”.


- Forgiveness allows a preacher who rapes their own child repeatedly for years to get no jail time because the judge feels, “He’s done so much other good in the community.”


Society is giving us sexual assault Survivors little incentive to heal. The atrocities committed against our bodies were burned into our self images and, everywhere we look, the courts are turning a blind eye to the justice we deserve.


   In a first world country, it is shocking to see hordes of men AND women, flock to punish victims with unwanted pregnancies while letting their rapists off with a, “Boys will be boys, and we wouldn’t want to ruin their lives, afterall!” mentality.

   There are places in the world where daughters are traded for cows, and raped daughters are sold to their rapists, because their father’s consider them a “ruined” commodity now.


Well, guess what? Though my life is, inarguably, full of love and joy, my successes do not, in any way, compensate for the part of my potential self that was “ruined”... changed forever; taken from me.


I was given no chance to explore love and intimacy; to choose to share my body with a chosen one; to have a choice the first time I let another human enter my body; to find comfort and joy in sexual intimacy. 


Before therapy, it was always a test in which I examined and rated my own performance; the times I didn’t just “go away”, at least. To be honest, I don’t remember most of my sexual experiences until recently, outside of my childhood trauma. I’d never experienced relaxed, take it for granted - my partner really loves me - sex... just the hope that maybe I measured up tonight. Maybe they won’t notice I’m no good at this. Maybe they can’t tell I’m “ruined”.


[I fear suffocating, the words, “You’re so good! God, you’re so good. You’re such a filthy little slut. You’re so good...” carried on the stench of beer and cocaine sweat; bouncing in my brain in rhythm to his merciless pounding of any part of me he cares to use for his perversion. I just pray he’ll get off before he wants to fuck me in the ass.]


A deeply instilled disgust with myself, the surety that I will never fulfill anybody, just chatters along incessantly in my lifelong struggle to perform; to fulfill; to trust; to try to find someone who could actually love me “anyway”.

Me, Linda Kay Gifford,


human being.


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