When I was nineteen years old, I was raped. It is what it is. Well, let me start from the beginning. I always loved the ideal of love even when I was a little girl. I pictured myself being that bride at that wedding, but crazy thing, I never was loved.

Now let me stop right here and tell you when I say I never was loved is not the type of love you get from family. I am definitely loved in this area of my life.

What I mean is I have not ever been loved by any man. I don’t know why. I mean, hell, I am not unattractive. Am I what someone stops and looks at when I walk into a room? Not even close, but I dang sure am not ugly, but guys just weren’t interested. Maybe it’s because I am so freakin’ awkward, who knows?

The results, in my eyes, I became damaged goods. The only attention I was ever going to get was to just offer myself to men, and I did. Results, self harm, hatred, and thoughts of suicide. I hated who was staring back at me every time I looked into the mirror. I still think I can’t truly date anyone to this day because I think I am damaged goods. Somewhere inside of me I know this is me lying to myself because I know I am amazing, but my heart just begs to differ.

So back to September of 1990, the cute guy from work and some others were over at my apartment drinking, and this guy asked me to go for a ride. C’mon, you bet I will. He pulls off in some field, we get out, and start making out. He then holds me down and penetrates me. I pushed and pushed, but he didn’t stop. Here is where my title comes into play. Even as I type the events out, I get angry at myself and not my rapist. Why did I get in his car? Why did I get out of his car in the middle of the field? Why didn’t I scream instead of just pushing on him? That night I lost my virginity. He took that from me, but the person I can’t forgive is me. I see him out and about sometimes, and he seems kind of sad in his life and that is good enough for me. People do stupid stuff that they can grow and learn from, maybe he isn’t the same guy that he was that night. I know you’re reading this and thinking what the hell is wrong with her? You probably want to tell yourself that there is no way he took advantage of me since I seem to have forgiven him. That’s just it though, I do. The day you forgive someone that has wronged you you instantly feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. I’ve had to forgive a few people in my lifetime. However, what is crazy about all of this. I can forgive everyone around me, but I CANNOT forgive myself. Here is the funny, and I’m not really talking about ha ha funny, but funny about me forgiving him, is maybe it’s so easy because I still blame myself. Again, why did I get in that car? Why did I get out of the car? Why didn’t I scream instead of just push? Which leads me to doubting what really happened to me, so if you are doubting it, don’t worry, I do too at times. It did happen though, it really did.

So when do I forgive myself? When can I quit hating me? What happened to me that night isn’t what makes me angry anymore. It is what I did and who I became after that that I can’t seem to forgive.

My advice to anyone reading this. Forgiveness needs to take place all around, but in order for you to heal you’ve got to make sure you forgive yourself.

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