Raped, Not Ruined

By Jessica Bird

Raped, Not Ruined is a book I shouldn’t have had to write.
It’s a look inside the raw emotions that come through the experience. There’s raging fury, devastation, hope, crushing exhaustion and deep depressions. Self-loathing. Forgiveness. Peace. Shattering and opening up over and over.

This book doesn’t dwell in the anger too much, but it’s there. It’s real and it needs to be seen, felt, heard, and spoken. Because this phenomenon is an outrage.

But more important than the anger and the pain,
this book is about the healing.

It’s about how I came back to my body. How I coped with the following pregnancy and then the miscarriage. It’s how I survived the waves and weeks and months it took to put myself back together- and it’s about how I came to forgive the men who hurt me. How I learned to open up and share, and what it took to finally understand what I needed from those who wanted to help me in my healing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781678163570

Jessica Bird

J. R. Ward is a #1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of erotic paranormal romance who also writes contemporary romance as Jessica Bird. She lives in the south with her incredibly supportive husband and her beloved golden retriever. Writing has always been her passion and her idea of heaven is a whole day of nothing but her computer, her dog and her coffee pot. Visit her online at www.JRWard.com.

Book preview

Raped, Not Ruined

Raped, Not Ruined

by Jessica Bird

Raped, Not Ruined

by Jessica Bird

Lilacs in Paradise

2020

Copyright © 2020 by Jessica Bird

Cover photography by Rachel Renee Photographie

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2020

ISBN 978-1-67816-357-0

Lilacs in Paradise

PO Box 797

Florence, OR 97439

www.lilacsinparadise.com

For survivors and all who love them.

Contents

Rape.

The Part I Don't Want Anyone to Know. . .

Can a Marriage Survive Rape? (Should it?)

The Anger

The Pain

Forgiving All Men

Forgiving The Man

The end of sex? Exploring sexuality again

The Pregnancy. . .

And the Miscarriage

Married Life After Rape

Forgiving Myself

Embracing Myself

Reproductive Health After Rape

Rising

Protecting the rapist. . .

Forgiving Myself (Again)

Using My Voice as a Survivor

The Darkness. . .

Rewriting my Story of Rape

The Human Core

Pleasure After Rape

To the ones who try to help us. . .

A Celebration of Healing

Rape.

I felt like I'd raped myself. Like the thoughts I'd had lead to this experience. A cruel voice in my head whispered to me that I had asked it because I had been curious about sex and sexuality. I'd only ever been with one man and I married him- so it's not like I planned on knowing what the experience would be like with someone else. . . but of course I wondered. I knew many people who slept with a different man every week, and I wondered how different each encounter could really be. . . so when I got raped, I felt like it was my fault. I'd been asking for it. Be careful what you wonder about or you just might get it all, right?

It took months for me to finally get through to myself that it is totally natural to wonder about sexual experiences- even after being married, and especially in a culture that rewards hypersexualization and feticizes violence. But somehow I found myself in this spiral every day for months of thinking I had raped myself- like I bought a ticket and showed up with a big sign that said Me! Rape me! I'm right here.

It came out of nowhere, and I think that was the hardest part to process. I was having a girls' night with an old friend and the roommate I didn't even know she had attacked me while she was in the shower. I squeaked a no, when he climbed on top of me, and then my body stopped listening to my brain. I shut down. It hurt, and I wanted to scream, but it felt like I was watching from above. . . or like I was under water. When he was finished, he pulled up my pants, zipped his, and sat on the floor in front of me, rewatching it on his phone. It's shocking how just a couple minutes can lead to years of pain and healing.

After the police showed up and finished asking me questions, I thought it was over. I called my mom somewhere between numb and hysterical. She invited me in with hugs and tea and teary-eyed sisters, and then I showered with every drop of hot water, used an entire bottle of mouthwash, and shook and cried in my sister's arms until I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep.

The next day, I went to the doctor to be examined and tested for STIs. The exam was painful, and I remember that part vividly. I was told I'd have to return in a few months, and in a few months again because some STIs take longer to give positive results.

Within 3 weeks, all I could feel was numb. . . And my period was late. I finally took a test, saw the faintest positive, and errupted in anger. We'd been trying to have a baby for a couple years already, and I'd miscarried every single one. Now, I hoped for a miscarriage- hated myself for it- hoped for a live birth- and hated myself and the rapist for that even more. What if he pursued custody?

Two weeks later, the test was still positive. Three weeks later, I started bleeding. I'd miscarried before, but there had never been this much blood. I dissolved into tears. . . and that was it. More damage, more pain, more soul-shattering. . . I felt like the rape didn't just take place over one night. He continued to hurt me in the most precious places over and over for months on end, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

My family was there for me. Law and Order SVU had been my favorite show up until that point, and I knew it was important to talk about what happened. I thought about Detective Benson when I hated myself. I imagined her hugging me, looking me in the eye and telling me I was going to be okay and that it wasn't my fault.

I talked with the men I loved about what happened to me, desperate to avoid falling into a pit of hatred for all men over the actions of one man. I talked with my grandpa and my dad, and in their own ways they helped me to heal and come back to myself.

I talked with my husband every day, even if it was impossible to find words beyond I'll be okay, just not right now, and when he opened up to share is own feelings around the situation with me, I found solace in being able to grieve and heal with him. Sharing your burdens is not adding weight to