A Way Forward: Disclosure (TW: rape/sexual assault)

 My name is Parker, and I was raped and sexually assaulted by Kyle Dropik (DemonBear13/Bear King)

I have written this thousands of times in my head before today, waiting for the day when I felt ready to say the words. I’m not writing to “talk shit” about Kyle, in fact I have to admit I still love him. I’m writing because trying to carry the secret has been so heavy. It has weighed me down every day for over 5 ½ years and I feel ready to try to set it down.
From what I understand, Kyle himself disclosed this information to some people in his life several years ago, I’m not sure who and I don’t know what was said. But he encouraged me to talk openly about it at the time too, I just wasn’t able to yet. The choice to keep silent was mine.

You might wonder why. There were many reasons. The first being I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself. I still have a very hard time. It makes me absolutely unbearably sad, to have to try to face it and accept that it was real. My mind kicks and screams and fights when I’m forced to acknowledge it. Everything in me doesn’t want it to be true. I’m completely overwhelmed with grief when I think about it.
Another reason is that I doubted people would believe me. I could hardly bring myself to believe it and I experienced it, how could I expect anyone else to accept the information??? I couldn’t bear to face people’s reactions. Everything was far too painful and I felt much too fragile to face the fallout. I didn’t want to lose him, I didn’t want to lose anyone else, I didn’t want any of this. So, I tried to pretend it didn’t happen as much as I could. I wanted it all to go away.

Today however, I’m ready. I recently watched the Epstein documentary series on Netflix and it was enormously healing for me to hear those women tell their stories. It had an incredible impact on me, listening to them explain how they didn’t react, didn’t leave, didn’t immediately run away, didn’t fight, didn’t tell anyone. They all said the same things. The shame I’ve felt over that for years has eaten me alive. But now, I don’t feel ashamed anymore. I had no idea how common of a reaction it was. I know I've read that it is normal, but it was different hearing their stories. I know without a shadow of a doubt now, that if I was to tell my story, someone else out there would believe me, and they would hear me and feel the same way. You are not alone. It is not your fault. The fact that you didn’t fight/scream/run/tell everyone/do something about it doesn’t mean you deserve what happened to you.

I have been through years of therapy. I’ve been diagnosed with disabling PTSD. I’ve done EMDR, CPT, and more. It has been grueling, painful, gut-wrenching work. It took me until this year, as part of a therapy assignment, before I was able to sit down and write out and read aloud a full account of what happened. Healing is out there. The burden gets a little lighter. There are people who will believe and support and understand you. <3

This is my story.

One night a month and a half into our relationship, Kyle and I started having consensual sex. However, I did something that made me accidentally throw up some, and I’m extremely emetophobic. I immediately started having a massive panic attack and crying hysterically. It took him quite some time to help me get calmed down, and I eventually was ready to crash out so Kyle tucked me in to sleep.
I was asleep curled up on my side when some time later, I woke up to feeling his fingers suddenly shoved inside of me. I was groggy and still trying to register what was happening, so I didn’t outwardly respond besides grimacing in discomfort. I tried to reposition my body to block him and he pulled his hand away. I started to drift back off to sleep, but the next thing I knew his body was on top of me and he forced himself inside of me. I was very shocked and confused, trying to process what was happening. I remember thinking “Is this real? Is this actually happening? What the fuck???!!” I tried to twist my body away, push my arms against him to resist, show discomfort, thinking that would be enough to make him realize I didn’t want it and stop. But it didn’t at all. He grabbed my body and shoved me back into position on my side, and held my arms out of the way. That is when I started to really panic. He wasn’t going to stop. He didn’t care that I didn’t want it. He could tell that I didn’t want it, and he didn’t care.
I just kind of checked out of my mind for a while at that point. I didn’t know what to do. I remember staring at my bedroom wall next to the bed through my eyes cracked open, and I just laid there. He pulled out and started to try to force himself into my ass. I clenched my eyes shut and shook my head no, no, no, no, no. I gritted my teeth in pain and tears were leaking from the corners of my eyes. He didn’t seem phased at all. I hoped it would end soon. I couldn’t understand why this was happening.
When he finished, he jumped up quickly and wiped himself off. I expected him to wipe me off or toss me the towel like normal, maybe say something to me, acknowledge me in some way? But he didn’t. He left me there, and just plopped down behind me, pulled up the covers, and within a few minutes was snoring. I had thought he might kiss me goodnight, or kiss me on the forehead like he did when I was asleep sometimes, do something to acknowledge me, anything at all... but he didn’t. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt sick. How could he do that to my body, and just leave me there like nothing, less than nothing?? Someone he seemed to care for and love normally?? I just laid there in complete shock, not knowing what the fuck to do. Thinking maybe I’d wake up from this awful nightmare. After a little bit, I got up and went to the bathroom to clean up. I was sore, torn, bleeding. I went and sat on the couch in the living room and tried to figure out what to do from there. The next morning, I confronted him, and he denied it. I wouldn’t let it go. I remember I started asking him “Why? Why would you do that to me???” and he finally replied “I don’t know” and broke down crying.

We talked more about it later, and I decided to stay with him because I liked him a lot and told myself I didn’t think it would happen again. I could put it behind us and we could go on with our lives.
Except I didn’t realize it was going to unexpectedly affect everything about my life. Everything changed whether I wanted it to or not.

I was right that he wouldn’t do that again. But he started to do other nonconsensual things during sex and in our attempts at BDSM scenes. I had to teach him about consent, negotiation, checking in, aftercare...but he wouldn’t do any of it with me. One thing that I found the most traumatic happened several times. He would very suddenly and forcefully attempt to fist me. With no warning, no warm-up, no discussion of it whatsoever. It was totally unexpected, extremely painful, and scary for me. I knew he was into fisting porn, so after the first time, I told him I was totally down to try it with him, we could talk about it and work up to it in the proper ways, but he always said no when I tried to talk to him about it. And it would happen again. I’d have to kick and fight him off screaming and be left crying, bleeding, torn, and severely bruised for days. He would avoid even looking at me for days afterward. I didn’t understand. Every time it happened again, I felt like a complete idiot for putting myself in that position. I felt so stupid. I’d beg him not to ever do it again, and things would go well for a while, I’d trust him...and then BAM. I’d be devastated, humiliated, ashamed, furious with myself. I loved him so much. I just wanted things to be okay. I wanted us to be happy together.

I had gotten to the point where I could barely function. I laid in bed crying much of the time. I wanted to die. I had developed an extreme fear of men, of porn, of BDSM, everything I used to love. Songs, tv shows, overhearing people talk in public was triggering. Everything felt terrifying. Most of all, I was terrified of him. But I still loved him so much. It was heart wrenching. I had observed a constant pattern in his overall behavior that always bothered me deep down. I noticed he found vulnerabilities irresistible. The way he looked at the world disturbed me. He just saw things he could take. I would always talk to him about it, and I remember how proud he was of himself when he would catch himself sizing up a situation, seeing that he could take something, and would decide not to. I was glad...but it ate at me.
I couldn’t get it out of my mind, the way the more he saw you being damaged, the more he enjoyed it. It excited him.
Even when he was seeming generous, loving, hilarious, tender and caring, all the things I love about him...that darkness was always there.

I’m glad to hear that he seems to have a good grasp on consent, negotiations, aftercare, etc. now, even if at the same time its extremely painful that I didn’t get to experience that myself. I don’t know why this had to happen the way it did. It hurts really badly. I still have a long way to go in my recovery and healing, but I’m making progress all the time. I’m ready to keep taking the next steps to move forward.

by @elwingbling