The big R. rape

I think I was around seven the first time I was raped. Although I have some scary memories that make me wonder if I was younger. (Maybe 4?)

Before bing raped by flesh I was mutilated by pieces of metal. 

I'm learning that God didn't allow me to be raped, but he saw it all. He saw the years if assaults that followed. He saw me raped again as a teen, and then lastly by the man who had sworn to love me til death do us part. 

It wasn't until I'd survived marital rapes that I understood how thoroughly a husband can destroy his wife. 

Rape isn't like any other sexual encounter. It isn't about sex!. Rape is all about power, about humiliation, about creating powerlessness.  It's about destroying a person for fun. 

My ex told me he felt a surge of energy and power that was so enticing that just thinking about it made him hungry to taste that power again. 

I recall him angrily lashing out at me for dissociating when being violently raped. He wanted to see the fear, hear my cries as I begged him to stop. When my brain shut down and I began to leave my body to escape, the stiff frozen body didn't give him the reactions he craved. 

I don't know how many times I've been raped. I have flashes of memories and try to put things together. 

But it's like building a puzzle when met of the pieces are missing. It's impossible. 

I may always grieve the losses I've incurred from rape. There is no nice way to frame it. Roe is vile, horrific and destructive.