#sasurvivor

[magicalcloudwitchsstuff]

I'm gonna be honest with you besties I'm not being very successful at this whole not letting sexual assault trauma eat me alive thing

[gaybitch-3000]

A part of me ive never admitted to before, but im tired of just pushing it down, its all starting to go black

[ellachae]

[voicesintulips]

whoever I was / burned with pleasure / was burned in smoke / until left on a lone walk / waking up to detachment / (de)realizations / he is still laughing in my ovaries / covered in the sharp sensations of my skin / buried in my youth / I still swim out of the clouds / choking on the sound of myself fuming my lungs / - voices in tulips

[haughtydoll]

[brokenhearted-soul]

Sitting during my lunch with 3 minutes left blogging thinking of how I miss his arms and how safe he makes me feel. How I want to be wrapped in them tight. Clock out at 3:30 in his arms by 3:45….

[ithappensblog]

old emails and new feelings

This morning, as the sun's gentle rays filtered through my curtains, I received an email from Google which stated that all inactive accounts unused for over two years would be deleted. A mundane announcement, perhaps, but it prompted me to embark on an emotional journey back in time. With a mixture of hesitation and curiosity, I logged into my old email account, a repository of memories frozen in the digital realm.

As I sifted through the forgotten messages, I stumbled upon the last email ever sent to that address. It was from a figure that had cast a long, haunting shadow over my life – my biological father. His words, etched in digital ink, were a painful reminder that he wanted nothing to do with me, a cruel rejection that had scarred my heart for years.

Tonight, the stillness of the evening wrapped around me like a warm blanket as I nestled beside my sleeping daughter. Though she no longer needed my presence to drift into dreamland, I found myself unwilling to relinquish the role of protector and nurturer. My heart swelled as I gazed at her innocent face, each of her gentle breaths a reminder of the preciousness of life.

In the stillness of that moment, the contrasts of my past and present seemed surreal. How could someone who had been granted the power to give life choose to inflict so much pain? My own father had been a master of that paradox – his actions and words had woven a web of suffering that took years to unravel.

Reflecting on the memories of my childhood, I recognized the gaping hole between his actions and the love I wished to shower upon my daughter. The emotional and psychological scars left by his deeds, some only revealed to me in adulthood, dwarfed any rebellious acts I had committed as a child.

I used to find myself bothered by his resentment, a resentment which stemmed from the consequences his father faced for his actions as a convicted child sex offender. A burden that he unfairly placed on my shoulders. A burden I turned over to law enforcement to help me heal. (we'll get to that on another post) But as I sit here, pouring my thoughts onto this digital canvas, the purpose of this post isn't to dissect the faults of a man who has long faded into insignificance. Instead, it is to celebrate the transformative power of love, resilience, and parenthood. I am no longer bothered. I have moved on, and true to the words he last wrote to me ending with "...have a nice life." I am, in fact, doing just that. Look at me now, thriving without him.

Rereading that heart-wrenching email today served as a catalyst, amplifying the love I feel for my daughter. In her existence, I've discovered an unyielding determination to rise above my past, to be the parent I never had. Her laughter, her dreams, her presence – they've become my daily inspiration to mend the wounds of my past and to ensure that her journey through life is bathed in unwavering support and boundless affection. Her happy existence reminds me of my refusal to let the cycle of pain continue. I'll cradle her in my arms, absorbing each of her breaths, knowing that every moment I spend with her is an investment in a brighter future – one defined by love, understanding, and unwavering commitment.

While I'll never forget the trials of my past, I'm determined to channel the pain into a force for good. I realize that life doesn't always grant us the parents we deserve. But, it can provide us with the opportunity to become the parents our children deserve.

With each cuddle, each embrace, I'm rewriting my own narrative, transforming the pain into a legacy of resilience, redemption, and unconditional love.

[sumsytee]

THE MURDER OF THE GIRL IN A PINK DRESS

She was last spotted running down the stairs of her apartment. Like she was late for something.

It was 2019, February something. Too late at night for innocent favors.

Her roommates ask where she's going

She braves a guilty lie. An innocent lie.

She was kind, she made art, she never locked doors, and she always baked cupcakes.

She was naive, wore too much makeup, and smiled too much.

She was the kind of girl to laugh at things that aren't funny and dance around her apartment in her underwear.

She was the kind of girl that wears pink dresses.

I am not kind. I do not dance.

I have a gun in my purse and my keys between my fingers.

Not the kind of girl that wears pink dresses.

Not the kind of girl with the safety on.

She was 19. It was February something, but I can't remember

That February was cold.

- Was it a weekday?

I remember the steep driveway and the shadow from the garage door closing.

- Had Valentine's day passed yet?

How the carpet felt and how the beer tasted funny and when hum of the AC kicking on made her jump.

The sound of a deadbolt locking.

How straight and white his teeth were. His hand on her arm. His breath in her ear. The feeling of being trapped inching it's way from behind her neck and around her throat-

She deserved it you know. She brought it on herself.

She was kind and stupid and

naive and she made art without trying and

she drove there willingly and she

smiled at him too much and she

Her fault. All her fault. Hers.

I tell her as much when

I hang her pink dress in my closet.

I forget about them for 4 years.

At 23 I forgive myself for it.

On a couch in an office building off North Conception St.

It is Thursday, March 30th, 2023. 5:34 PM.

I do not know where he is now.

....deny,deny,deny....

A kind lady sits on the couch across from me and smiles a sad smile when I confess to murder at 4 minutes past a half session.

My hair is curly now.

I look in the mirror and

Wince when i care whether or not it looks pretty.

"I miss her" 5:09PM

"How did she die?" 5:10PM

"I don't want to talk about it" 5:18PM

She gave me so choice. She was too sweet. Too trusting. She loved strangers and did kind things for no reason. She cared about eating organic and she drove me there willingly. she wanted

5:24PM

To see the world. She hurt me. She was compassionate

and bold and fearless and

put her trust in the wrong person. She

woke up early before school to straighten her hair.

She trusted the wrong person and did not deserve it. I did it anyway she embarrassed me so

5:34PM

"I killed her myself....

..She wore pink dresses and- i killed her for it."

"It's not your fault"

Yes it is. I killed her. She made me kill her.

It's all your fault

She hurt me. She didn't give us a choice.

It's not your fault

It it my fault. She's the victim and I'm the criminal.

He may be a predator.

He may have put a gun in my hand,

But I pulled the trigger.

"It was not your fault."

I put a bullet in my head for his crimes anyway

The 50$ shoved in my bra chafed the whole way home.

I, she, me, her, us. Our. My.

6:00PM

The ringing of church bells reaches me from two streets over as I make my way through the parking lot.

I'm trying and failing not to

Think about it.

Still reeling as i unlock the door.

But Easter Sunday is a week away and

My mom wants to match with me and take pictures by the steeple

Thinking about that makes me smile.

I put my car in drive and pull a metaphorical bullet out of my forehead.

Sunday, April 9th, 2023 10:34AM

A nurse and an ex-murderess are spotted running up the stairs of a downtown church. Running Late.

They wear matching dresses and share

Gold jewelry

And curly hair

And guilty smiles

We took so long getting ready that we will miss the greeting, miss the handshaking and the singing.

We are kind, and soft, and strong

We carry guns, safety on

And look damn good in pink.

YEAR UNKNOWN TIME UNKNOWN

I hope the sun is setting on a Sunday and

I hope you've been forgiven

Instead of thinking about how beautiful my mother looked or how

Many more fine china brunches i had left with my grandmother

I was thinking of you. That first Pink Easter.

I did not think you deserved that.

Forgiveness is a funny thing.

I know if i ask God for the strength to forgive

you,

He can give it to me

So I don't ask.

I swallow once and pray for Hope instead.

I think I'll wear pink to your funeral,

But I promise to search for your face when i get to Heaven.

I Hope to find you there.

[sociosailormoon]

I was a percussion; blatant  against your hands  strung against your vigilance  your vocals get louder  my body makes sense  when it’s held against your fingertips  bleeding out the sound  of innocence  to the instrumental of  my existences  -  Hannie 

[laquenotienepadre]

No estoy lista para decir su nombre en voz alta, ni decirle al mundo quien fue.

¿Nunca has tenidos esa sensación de que te falta algo al salir de casa o al dejar tu cuarto de hotel? Esa sensación de que en el bolsillo te hace falta algo. Bueno pues esa es la única forma en la que yo puedo describir como se siente ser una sobreviviente de abuso sexual, de abuso psicológico y físico. Es ir caminando mientras recoges las monedas que se te salen una y otra vez del bolsillo, esa sensación de levantarte de la banca del parque y saber que pudiste dejar algo olvidado, voltear constantemente y vivir con el pendiente incesante que algo te esta faltando. Aprender a dejar ir es una parte muy importante de todo mi proceso, el saber que aun que ya no soy la que me arrebataron, sigo siendo la que dejaron vivir, en esta vida rota y confusa en donde de repente estoy hasta arriba y hay días que ni el suelo me quiere con él. Si lo pienso muy fuerte y repetidamente se que nunca me he sentido completa, se que alguien arrebato un pedazo de mi y nunca regresará, pero tampoco lo quiero conmigo ya.

Nadie dijo que la vida fuera fácil, pero se que el sufrimiento es opcional, por eso hoy aquí mientras sigo preguntándome el futuro de mi vida, externo mi abuso sexual que llevo días soñando con él, con sus sucias manos y su cara horrible, que se acerca a mi y trata de dañarme como un día lo hizo, pero ya sin miedo, el ya no me toca, el ya no me hace daño. Yo ahora decido cuando las palabras, las acciones, las mentiras, las traiciones y las personas me pueden dañar.

[magicalcloudwitchsstuff]

I see many well intentioned people drawing parallels between being victim of sexual assault and getting robbed. "It's like saying I deserve to get robbed because I own a nice house and having to prove that I didn't want to get robbed". The parallel is flawed, because robbery is a crime against property and rape is a crime against a person. A more fitting analogy would be if someone ran me over and I'd have to prove in court that I didn't in fact want to be ran over even if I was crossing the street with a green light. The damage caused by sexual assault is a thousand, a million times worse than getting robbed. It will leave you with lifelong emotional and psychological scarring, and probably lifelong treatment.

So. Just wanted to say this.

[mysadcorner]

Jason Dean x SASurvivor!Reader Headcanons

Hello! I was wondering if I could get a Jason dean x reader fic? Could it be about telling jd about a time when reader was sa’ed? And he tells her it wasn’t her fault? And then the next day maybe he’s sneaking into her room and there’s a bit of blood on his collar? And he’s like “you don’t have to worry abt him anymore”

- Credit to the gifs owner - Please be specific about characters wanted in requests -

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• JD would be absolutely furious when he first finds out what happened to you, and his anger will be pretty much uncontrollable no matter how calm he seems to be in the moment. He's definitely planning something straight away even though he won't tell you.

• He would sit with you for quite some time to help you through your emotions and to make sure you feel comforted and ready to rest. During this time of your shared silence or deep talking he'd spend his time with his mind racing, thinking how someone could do such a thing and what kind of punishment he needs to inflict upon them while he holds you.

• He’d plan on staying with you that night and wouldn’t leave you at all until he knew you were feeling at least slightly busy. He wouldn’t leave your side until he knew you had something to do, or were going to be with someone he approved of and would look after you.

• You would eventually notice that he had disappeared for the whole day shortly after you told him of what had happened, and when he came back he would be very proud of himself. He may even cause a scene so whoever hurt you would be forever humiliated in both life and death.

• Afterwards, JD would be acting like nothing happened on his behalf and putting on an innocent facade in front of others. However, this won’t stop him from dropping little hints at his involvement and making jokes about it.

• He’d let you know straight away what he did though, especially as he thought it was justified and would make you feel better (wether he was right about this he doesn’t really care). You’d never have to worry about that person ever hurting you again because of JD, and he really wanted you to know that. Also, you would probably end up have to cover for him if either of you were questioned about the incident.

[ellachae]

I've never loved you you bathe in the thought; wash me out of your mouth; take my mind & smother me into the nothing you wish I was; into the man you wish you were. - Elle Chae

[voicesintulips]

king me in my four walls I'm trapped in the ruling of my body his morphine makes me weak - forgetful of my conqueress; melting in my unconsciousness; my liveliness that was falling in love with the night of tricks and a windpipe full of feminine; has loved you when the occasion wasn't recent; when I shouldn't have given myself to the man in the cloak of metallic tasting tongues; to the man who walks in and outside of me; to the drugs who breath in & out of me; king me in my four walls. - voicesintulips

[haughtydoll]

chemical burn.

its been a long and lost moment of peace I've seen the gardens burn to its root and dance without its chorus it's beautiful has mended its feet but I am still its hostile colours taking a blame for choreographic voices; an antebellum of today By: Persephone Fio.

[overlookedsurvivors]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRPGPE3D/

Pamela Anderson was abused by both men and women