Arianna Rose
ibelongtome[email protected]
Kik: _AriannaRose_
When we are born, we are born as blank slates. We have all the potential to be ANYTHING we want. But, as we grow, we encounter things that make us feel ashamed and that knock us on our knees... That shout at us "You can't do this. You can't do that. What are you to this world?" Life likes to push us around and ruin that 'blank, beautiful, slate'. At the age of six I knew my place in this world. I was worthless, useless, USED... I was not my own person. I didn't belong to myself. I wasn't "Arianna". I was a toy. I was "his", I was "hers", I was "that". At six years old, I was molested by my cousin... (Who before this event was my best friend). I was a child, a baby... He would make do things to him... to his body, that, at that age, I didn't know anything about. I knew how wrong it felt, but not how wrong it was...
Before I turned seven I moved to Wisconsin (from California) with my mother, my twin brothers (who were about a year old), my grandparents and my step-father.
When I turned 12 my grandparents started to physically and emotionally abuse me. At the age of 12 I hated myself more than I knew how to hate...
Two weeks before my 15th birthday, my friend and I met up with some of her friends at a McDonalds in Appleton. This group of four boys all worked there, together, and were just getting done with their shift. We sat there and talked and then as we were leaving one of the boys said "Hey, you guys should come over! Were gunna watch 'Paranormal Activity'!" I looked at my friend, and before I could say anything she had already answered. "Yes! I've been dying to see that!" So, we went. I got into a car with a boy I had just met and went to his house. A little less than half way through the movie, I had to pee. I asked to use the bathroom and he said " Okay, follow me. The only bathroom is downstairs, in the basement." (RED FLAG! HELLO!) I followed him down the stairs... The room was set up like a guest room. It had a bed, a small dresser, and a lamp... Steps away from the bed was the bathroom. I used the bathroom and when I came out, he grabbed my hand and led me to the bed. We were kissing, and then he took it a little too far. I became very uncomfortable and voiced that clearly. But, I was scared and weak. When I said "No" and that didn't work, I froze. I didn't want him to hurt me, but I didn't know what to do. I shut down. I shut down.... He was heavy... He raped me.
Six months later, I was raped again. My cousin was turning 15, and at her party, there were drugs and alcohol, and ignorant people... To be honest, I cant remember much from this night, besides the weight of his body and the smell of his hair. The night is a blur. Everything happened so quickly... I left...
After all that had happened to me the past 10 years I had been alive, I was able to walk around as a normal 15 year old. I was in denial. "This didn't happen." I would tell myself. It wasn't something I thought about often. I blocked it from my mind... Funny how our bodies try to protect us....
In the middle of my sophomore year I met a boy, who I liked very much. He was sweet, and tolerant, and different. He was beautiful in an unusual way. One night I went to his house to hang out - to watch movies and play video games. As we were sitting on his bean bag chairs watching 'Paul', we started to kiss (which I was comfortable with) and then he tried to put his hand down my pants. I had to PHYSICALLY remove his hands from my pants and say "No" too many times before I got angry. I felt vulnerable. And that was the first time I was hit in the face with a 'flashback'. I couldn't breathe. I felt scared. I stood up with tear filled eyes and told him I had to go home. That was the first night my past felt REAL .. I called my best friend and we talked about what happened...
After that event, I started to lose control of who I was... I fell into the cycle of a violent eating disorder. And self-harm became the only thing that kept me alive (As odd as that sounds). I HATED every ounce of my being. I hated my face, my body. I hated the things that had happened to me... But, I hated that I LET those things happen to me, the most. I hated who I was. I wanted to die. I couldn't even look at my own face. I HATED myself.
In October of my Junior Year in high school, I tired to commit suicide for the FIRST time. I obviously did not succeed. I was hospitalized for 12 day at St.E's on their 'Psych Unit'. Five days after I was released, I was hospitalized again, for 9 days. And at that point, it was decided that I would start Day Treatment in November (group therapy, 5 days a week, from 9am-1:30pm). I spent 8 months in day treatment, and during those 8 months I was hospitalized 5 more times, once for my eating disorder, and the rest for self-harm and suicide, (my time in day treatment was also the FIRST time I had EVER spoken about the sexual abuse I had endured).
My past destroyed me. Every part of me. I still wake some days and cant stand to look at my own face or body, because when I stare into my own eyes, I see a broken little girl fighting a fight that shouldn't have been hers. Sometimes I wake up and cant remember how to walk, or how to breathe... Sometimes I forget my own name... "Who am I?" The things that have happened to me have affected EVERY part of my life. These things have changed how I view myself, how I think others view me, how I view other people... It has affected my family.. My little brothers have watched me destroy myself, and it is destroying them... My mother cant stand to look at me sometimes...
Sexual abuse destroyed me. But, I am building myself up from the ground. I am currently 18 years old. And I am a survivor. This past July (2014) was the last time I tried to commit suicide. I was in the ICU and in a comma for three days, and then I spent about 2 1/2 weeks on the 'Psych Unit'. I almost died. I literally touched death. And because of this attempt I almost lost the people that meant the most to me...
As I walked out of those hospital doors, I told myself I would take back my life... For ME. And that is what I am doing.
I am slowly learning that the bad things that happened to me are because I am a bright light in this world, and people who are filled with darkness want to shatter the light within me... NOT because I am any less of a human being than the next person that passes me on the street. NOT because I deserve it. No.
I am taking back my life.
Currently, I am still battling with self-harm and the strong, strong grip that anorexia has on me. But, I am fighting my hardest. I am learning to accept my body for something that houses my soul rather than something dirty and used.
I want my life to mean something. I want to LOVE people with all that I am. I matter. You matter. I want to help people see their worth based on the heart that beats within them, NOT what has happened to them. My life WILL mean something... To others but also to ME.
I can do this. I am doing this. On my 18th birthday I got the words "I Belong To Me" tattooed on my collarbone..
That was my way of reclaiming my body for myself.
How will you reclaim yours?
You are beautiful. You are brave. You are LOVED. I love you. And remember.... "I Belong To Me"
Before I turned seven I moved to Wisconsin (from California) with my mother, my twin brothers (who were about a year old), my grandparents and my step-father.
When I turned 12 my grandparents started to physically and emotionally abuse me. At the age of 12 I hated myself more than I knew how to hate...
Two weeks before my 15th birthday, my friend and I met up with some of her friends at a McDonalds in Appleton. This group of four boys all worked there, together, and were just getting done with their shift. We sat there and talked and then as we were leaving one of the boys said "Hey, you guys should come over! Were gunna watch 'Paranormal Activity'!" I looked at my friend, and before I could say anything she had already answered. "Yes! I've been dying to see that!" So, we went. I got into a car with a boy I had just met and went to his house. A little less than half way through the movie, I had to pee. I asked to use the bathroom and he said " Okay, follow me. The only bathroom is downstairs, in the basement." (RED FLAG! HELLO!) I followed him down the stairs... The room was set up like a guest room. It had a bed, a small dresser, and a lamp... Steps away from the bed was the bathroom. I used the bathroom and when I came out, he grabbed my hand and led me to the bed. We were kissing, and then he took it a little too far. I became very uncomfortable and voiced that clearly. But, I was scared and weak. When I said "No" and that didn't work, I froze. I didn't want him to hurt me, but I didn't know what to do. I shut down. I shut down.... He was heavy... He raped me.
Six months later, I was raped again. My cousin was turning 15, and at her party, there were drugs and alcohol, and ignorant people... To be honest, I cant remember much from this night, besides the weight of his body and the smell of his hair. The night is a blur. Everything happened so quickly... I left...
After all that had happened to me the past 10 years I had been alive, I was able to walk around as a normal 15 year old. I was in denial. "This didn't happen." I would tell myself. It wasn't something I thought about often. I blocked it from my mind... Funny how our bodies try to protect us....
In the middle of my sophomore year I met a boy, who I liked very much. He was sweet, and tolerant, and different. He was beautiful in an unusual way. One night I went to his house to hang out - to watch movies and play video games. As we were sitting on his bean bag chairs watching 'Paul', we started to kiss (which I was comfortable with) and then he tried to put his hand down my pants. I had to PHYSICALLY remove his hands from my pants and say "No" too many times before I got angry. I felt vulnerable. And that was the first time I was hit in the face with a 'flashback'. I couldn't breathe. I felt scared. I stood up with tear filled eyes and told him I had to go home. That was the first night my past felt REAL .. I called my best friend and we talked about what happened...
After that event, I started to lose control of who I was... I fell into the cycle of a violent eating disorder. And self-harm became the only thing that kept me alive (As odd as that sounds). I HATED every ounce of my being. I hated my face, my body. I hated the things that had happened to me... But, I hated that I LET those things happen to me, the most. I hated who I was. I wanted to die. I couldn't even look at my own face. I HATED myself.
In October of my Junior Year in high school, I tired to commit suicide for the FIRST time. I obviously did not succeed. I was hospitalized for 12 day at St.E's on their 'Psych Unit'. Five days after I was released, I was hospitalized again, for 9 days. And at that point, it was decided that I would start Day Treatment in November (group therapy, 5 days a week, from 9am-1:30pm). I spent 8 months in day treatment, and during those 8 months I was hospitalized 5 more times, once for my eating disorder, and the rest for self-harm and suicide, (my time in day treatment was also the FIRST time I had EVER spoken about the sexual abuse I had endured).
My past destroyed me. Every part of me. I still wake some days and cant stand to look at my own face or body, because when I stare into my own eyes, I see a broken little girl fighting a fight that shouldn't have been hers. Sometimes I wake up and cant remember how to walk, or how to breathe... Sometimes I forget my own name... "Who am I?" The things that have happened to me have affected EVERY part of my life. These things have changed how I view myself, how I think others view me, how I view other people... It has affected my family.. My little brothers have watched me destroy myself, and it is destroying them... My mother cant stand to look at me sometimes...
Sexual abuse destroyed me. But, I am building myself up from the ground. I am currently 18 years old. And I am a survivor. This past July (2014) was the last time I tried to commit suicide. I was in the ICU and in a comma for three days, and then I spent about 2 1/2 weeks on the 'Psych Unit'. I almost died. I literally touched death. And because of this attempt I almost lost the people that meant the most to me...
As I walked out of those hospital doors, I told myself I would take back my life... For ME. And that is what I am doing.
I am slowly learning that the bad things that happened to me are because I am a bright light in this world, and people who are filled with darkness want to shatter the light within me... NOT because I am any less of a human being than the next person that passes me on the street. NOT because I deserve it. No.
I am taking back my life.
Currently, I am still battling with self-harm and the strong, strong grip that anorexia has on me. But, I am fighting my hardest. I am learning to accept my body for something that houses my soul rather than something dirty and used.
I want my life to mean something. I want to LOVE people with all that I am. I matter. You matter. I want to help people see their worth based on the heart that beats within them, NOT what has happened to them. My life WILL mean something... To others but also to ME.
I can do this. I am doing this. On my 18th birthday I got the words "I Belong To Me" tattooed on my collarbone..
That was my way of reclaiming my body for myself.
How will you reclaim yours?
You are beautiful. You are brave. You are LOVED. I love you. And remember.... "I Belong To Me"