At its core, trauma can be thought of as the psychological wounds that persist, even when the physical ones are long gone.
A Bowl of Cherries
Your grandmother used to have this cherry tree in her backyard. It must have been there forever, you thought, because it had grown over and through the fence, and shaded a large part of the yard. For years, in the spring, you would stand on the wobbly, makeshift stone bench under the tree and pick all the ripe fruit you could reach. You sorted the untouched from those half-eaten by squirrels and birds and tossed those that passed into a big, white bucket. Your grandmother would climb a ladder to reach the higher cherries and tottered on the uneven ground.
A Born Loser
So, I was born from Seoul, South Korea on August 10th, 1979 at 6:53 AM. My biological mother gave birth to me without any prenatal care due to Korean Conservative Family traditions. She was 16 years old when she had me, you see, and I'm half Korean, half Chinese, so my biological father was a Chinese Business Man whom was a friend to her immediate family. Which comes to the question was I an accident or born from rape? That'll come into another time to tell that story since I know from what an old nurse from the adoption agency in Korea had told me. So, from how I came into this world is how I started my loser life. Not that I AM a loser. I try not to be, but under life's circumstances, it's how my story begins.
How my intuition could of killed me
Let's set the scene so you can picture this in your head, 10:30 pm in my condo parking lot grabbing my keys out of my fiance's car for work the next morning. I am fully bent over in the passenger side of the car reaching for my keys. After I grab them and stand back up, I immediately after turning around notice an older man making direct eye contact with me, speed walking right at me. It was in slow motion and what was probably only a few milliseconds felt like a few minutes, I was frozen with fear as he got closer but eventually got the courage to take my phone out of my pocket without breaking eye contact.
Young, Vulnerable, Raped!
I just turned 16yrs old at the time. I had a boyfriend who I was dating since I was 13yrs old. A lot of boys and men were interested in me. I was young but my body was very shapely and maturely developed. There was a older man in the neighborhood that used to hang out and make money that was very intrigued with me. He usually flirted with me and I would always have to remind him that I had a boyfriend and was very much younger than him. One summer he asked a couple of my friends who smoked if they wanted to hang out with him at a backyard of a shop where he used to sell weed out of. My friends wanted to go and was urging me to go with them, I complied and went along. That spot became our hang out spot. We would go there to hang out, drink, smoke and have a grand old time. Everyone knew he was interested in me. No matter how many times I turned him down, he insisted one day I would be his. School started back and I was only allowed to hang out on the weekends with a curfew. By this time, the guy and I were super cool friends. He told me that he was going to rent a basement where my friends and I can come chill and hang out when we don’t feel like hanging outside. I thought that was a pretty nice gesture. So on the weekends we would go there and chill. One day I went there alone. When it was time to leave he was begging me to stay. I said “No I will come back tomorrow, I have curfew.” He had one of those locks on the door where it locks with the key from the inside. I went to open the door and seen that it was locked. I asked him to open the door and he refused. At the time I wasn’t scared because I had gotten so comfortable with him, I started to plead with him to open the door in fear of reaching home late and getting in trouble from my Mother. He then proceeded to grab on to my pants to try and take it off. I asked him to stop but he refused. He took out a gun, cocked it and told me that I wasn’t leaving until I gave him some pussy. I asked him if this is how he really wants to get some from me. He replied and told me that I didn’t even know his real name so even if I told my Mother or went to the cops, nothing would come out of it. He cocked the gun back while fighting me and tearing off my clothes. I cried and asked him if he could at least use a condom. He put the condom on with the gun in his hand and forced his self inside of me. I layed there the entire time crying. When he was done he told me sorry and that he loves me and wants me to be his wife. I got up, put my clothes back on and cried all the way home. When I got home I didn’t say a word to my Mother. I was scared that I was going to get in trouble because why was I hanging out with a grown man, smoking, drinking and doing everything that I wasn’t supposed to be doing. I was scared that I was going to be looked at different because I had sex. To this day my Mother does not know that has ever happened to me. My reason for telling this story is to help any young girl that has either faced something like this or a young girl that is as naive as I was. No one is perfect but we all know right from wrong. If your conscience tells you, you shouldn’t be doing something LISTEN. If you have to talk yourself into doing something or being somewhere you know you shouldn’t be LISTEN to your conscience. You don’t have to follow a crowd to be considered cool. Also don’t ever be afriad of telling your parent anything wether you were right or wrong. Your parent is who has your best interest. They are the first people who you should run to for EVERYTHING. This is the story of how I got raped. I have 2 more stories with this same man. Maybe I will tune in to give you a bit more on what I went through. Like and comment if you would like to hear more.
Late Night Radio
“FOUR minutes past two – good evening to all the lovely people who can’t sleep or are travelling at this ungodly time of the night. I sympathize with each and every one of you – but not enough to ask you to tune out. You know who I am by now, I’m sure. The show’s intro screams everything you need to know. Today’s show is going to be a little bit different than most. I understand that I – and most other RJs say this every time – but hopefully I’ll be able to follow through on this particular occasion. Kicking it off with Kris Jamie; here’s Still Unable; I’ve been playing this unashamedly for days now – and I’m not going to stop.”
What is Load Bearing?
Load-bearing. I’ve seen this term come up time and again within different contexts. Some are simply about how to correctly assemble the structure of a building with strong foundations so that it can withstand enormous loads. Other articles, particularly about emotional load-bearing, talk of the disproportionate amounts of mental and emotional labour women in heterosexual couples have to bear when they find themselves running an entire household on their own, despite putting in the same amount of hours at work as their male counterpart.
Please stop harming and killing Native Women
I am a Hawaiian woman. This means that I am a Native Woman. All over the world and for many generations there has been a no-longer-silent-but-not-a-lot-has-been-done-to-STOP the violence against us global campaign.
So This Week Sucked.
*TRIGGER WARNING* THE STORY ABOUT FRIDAY IS GRAPHIC AND MAY BE DISTURBING TO READERS WHO LOVE ANIMALS* Monday. It still haunts me.
It all started in 2016. That was the year that changed everything, it was the in between period of my first and second year of college, my 19th year of life, and the year that gave me my biggest emotional scar. Since then, I've just been fumbling through my life. It's like that episode of FRIENDS where they throw a ball around for hours but won't let Chandler play because "he's a dropper", and then it shows all of the times where Chandler has dropped or broken things. Well, that's me. I'm Chandler Bing.
Blossoming Into Me
I was in second grade when my parents decided something was wrong with me. I was strapped to an EEG and had completely convinced myself that what they were really doing was reading my mind. I tried like hell to control my thoughts and try not to expose my deepest secrets that only a 2nd grader would possess. I am aware now that what they were doing was monitoring my brain waves to see how active my mind was while reclined in a chair. Hint hint: Patient I was not.
Staying is the new shame
Your first relationship is over, would you like another one? A question I felt trouble the sanctity of my peace. My mental health became a victim of teenage chaos due to the disturbance of his actions. I felt like our world had ended and there was nothing I wanted to do to save him.
Learning to live by trying to die
I was 9 years old the first time I tried to die. My beloved Uncle Tony had died at 42 from kidney failure. I had loved and worshipped him. He was the only person who spoke to me as if I were a person, not a nuisance. He would engage me in riddles and puzzles . He was the only one who told me that I was very smart and to never stop learning . He would envelop me in hugs that enveloped all of me and made me feel incredibly safe. Nothing could hurt me while I was with him. I was convinced he was the only person who cared about me.