Tag Archives: feminism

Depression as a woman

Imagine feeling empty, sad, hopeless, worthless, directionless and lost.

Anxious and panicky, sensitive to lights, sounds and casual words.

Couple that with monthly intense mood swings, tears that flow easily, body aches and exhaustion, need for sleep throughout the day, aching back and swollen breasts.

Now your emptiness and loneliness is heightened with the consistent flow of blood and unfertilised eggs.

My brain becomes a ticking alarm clock reminding me it’s time for my pill again.

Its choice of alarm tune?

The urge to pop handfuls of pills, to get knock out drunk, to do something, anything to mute the mind and feelings. She doesn’t scream at the back of my mind anymore, but her toxic breath fogs the brain in the meantime.

Up till I take that little pill and go to bed. Things are better when I wake up. But in between, there’s no guarantee what the subconscious will unleash on my sleeping mind.

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I am a woman

I am a woman.
I bleed once a month, for typically 7 to 10 days.
I crave food, chips, carbs and sleep the week before,
my mood dips and I cry while laughing at everything.

I am a woman.
I have hair on my legs, under my arm,
on my arm, on my crotch,
between my breasts,
under my belly button.

I am a woman.
I am blessed with the privilege of creating a child in my womb.
I won’t be judged for liking feminine clothes.
I can like men without being labelled “unnatural”.

I am a human.
I am able to feel a plethora of emotions and
I am also able to feel nothing at all.
I am a female human.
I am a woman.

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The guilt of being raped

I’ve been doing so much searching and reading since I’ve come to the realisation that I was raped. Searching for things like ‘was it rape if I don’t remember’, ‘not remembering my rape’, ‘not remembering my rape and feeling okay’.

All I’ve been able to find are recounts by women who explicitly said no, struggled physically, crawled away, felt pain in their vaginas after, cried, were afraid to say no, had flashes of memories where the men were on top or in them.

My sole memory was of his head between my legs, and I remembered it feeling good.

To know logically and be told by the people I was out with the night before that I was intoxicated, stumbling around drunk with no memories of most of the night; to know that the people I was with told me that I needed to go back cause I was too drunk, and that he offered to send me back cause he wanted to head back anyways; knowing he was completely sober; remembering him telling us about his wife and his promise to keep sober to her. Yet, even knowing all these, to doubt that I was raped and that it was possibly my fault, even asking my friend the next day if I was hitting on him and thus caused the encounter to happen. They all weigh on my mind and heart so deeply and heavily.

I can’t find a single account that would help me feel okay with what happened, to justify that my rape was real, that it happened to me, that I’m not falsely accusing him of taking advantage of me. With each article I read, each forum, each comment, all I feel is guilt that my experience, my memory of what happened, was not ‘good enough’, was not ‘proper’.

As though being a victim of rape needed guidelines:

  • You can’t trust men anymore
  • You can’t feel sexual desire anymore
  • You must have remembered instances of the sexual assault
  • You must have been physically hurting from the encounter
  • You must be psychologically scarred from the encounter
  • You’re never going to want to be alone with men again
  • You’re never going to want to drink in public again

But I barely have any of these, and I feel bad, like I’m a fraud. Like I’m not a ‘good example’ of a rape victim and therefore I might not be… entitled to that label. To proclaim or even mention that I went through a rape.

I’m told by feminist friends to stop drinking so much, to not trust guys so easily, to take better care of myself from now on. I was firmly told by doctors that I should report the rape because I need to do my job and help protect other women out there from being at a risk of him in the future. Sure, they said things like “omg I’m so sorry babe” and was ‘comforted’ by their verbal bashings of him, but at the end of the day, I still feel responsible for what happened. Yes he sucks, but they still give advice on how I can prevent it because “there will always be men out there who are not right in the head and will rape you if they can, so you need to protect yourself.” And I’m left feeling simultaneously guilty for allowing the rape to happen, and potentially not being applicable for the title of rape victim.

So this post is for every person out there who was raped while drunk and couldn’t remember anything. For every person out there who trusted that married, sober guy who promised he would take care of you. For the people who were able to feel pleasure. Who aren’t sure if you were penetrated by his penis. Who feel guilty for not being aware till a week later that you were actually raped.

Your rape experience was real. No one can take that away from you. You deserve to feel hurt and vulnerable. You deserve to feel a plethora of emotions, even if it’s not what you think it should be. There are no rules to being raped, to being a victim or a survivor of rape. It’s okay, I’m here for you, my loves. 

Keep strong, I’m rooting for you.

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Looking out for Number 1

Yes, the rape was not your fault.
You weren’t asking for it.
You were drinking
You were having fun
You did not deserve to be raped.

Yes, the molest was not your fault.
You didn’t ask for it.
You were drunk
You trusted your friend
You did not deserve to be molested.

But, my love
The world is a cruel place.
Your friends won’t always be there
They might not see the drinks as your crutch
They might not see your cry for help
They might wave you off as vicarious and wild

And, my love
People are cruel creatures
Where No means Yes
And trust is but a tool for abuse

So ignore those who tell you
“You should stop drinking”
“You shouldn’t trust guys so easily”
“Don’t drink so much next time”
“Don’t go out drinking in unknown places with unknown people”

But you should take care of yourself.
Because at the end of the day,
The world is a cruel place
Filled with cruel creatures
And no one is around to watch out for you

Only you can care for you.

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