Survivors of Sexual Assault

22 Veterans commit suicide every day. On March 30, 2015 I could have been another statistic. I tried to commit suicide using a serrated blade against my arm. I also tried drinking myself to death. When the ambulance EMT found me I was face down on the asphalt with my BAC at .243. On that day I decided to quit drinking and live a more positive lifestyle. A combination of things drove me to this point: my toxic relationship (that I got out of), dealing with the life-changing sexual assault from my childhood and my transition back into the civilian world after 5 years of active duty in the Marine Corps. I barely had anything. If it were not for my good friend Tim, I am positive I would be homeless right now. I appreciate this man for what he has done for me and continues’ to do.

The realities of my situation were imminent. A few weeks after I was back in the apartment, I received bills from; Summerlin Hospital, Physicians, and the Ambulance. The total costs… $4,264.02 I contacted the Veterans Affairs in hopes to try and get it paid for or assisted in some way. Every call I made lead to an automated machine, which lead to a spider web of button mashing, numbers to contact others who may know more information of what to do, and more waiting.

Well a few weeks ago, on September 9, 2015, I was given a call from Summerlin Hospital saying, “Mr. Mendoza we see that you have not made any payments on your bills. We will be putting your bills to collection in less than a month.”

After months of being given unsure information, and no one following up with me, I finally decided to give it one last try. I went to the Las Vegas VA hospital with bills in hand and their explanation for not helping me was simple. “Since you did not see a primary care doctor at the VA after you got off active duty, there is nothing we can do. It happens all the time. People get out and don’t see a VA doctor so they’re not covered.” I was baffled. I was and remain to be in physically good standards, so there was no reason to see a doctor. However in between the times of me getting off active duty and my suicide attempt I did see a Marine veteran who was an active duty counselor in Fresno. But that did not matter. I went to him seeking help for mental health – not physical health. As a result, the VA deemed me to be uncovered. I was directed to go try and appeal it this morning, Sept 21st, 2015. Well, I’m done trying to get help with the VA for this. Although this was a terrible situation to put myself through and was a lapse in judgement, it made me realize to not be selfish because I am a son. I am a grandson. I am a brother. I am an uncle. I am a cousin. I am a best friend, a Marine, coworker, supervisor, subordinate, brother-in-arms, roommate, coworker, friend, but something I have to stay for myself is a survivor. I am a survivor. And sometimes in order to survive I need to reach out for a helping hand. So here I am.

Here is my GoFundMe 

          Thankfully, I received an overwhelming amount of support on my page, Survivors of Sexual Assault, to help me on my journey dealing with Sexual Assault and recovering from alcoholism. However, this past Saturday I received a message from an individual that was very negative. This person was insisting that I made this page and my posts on other social media (Instagram) for attention.

           This person is right; I made this page to get attention. I made this page to raise awareness for sexual assault survivors and to help provide a support system for to the people that deal with these problems and the other issues that occur from sexual abuse.

           My drinking, for example, stemmed from my abuse. I understand that I have hurt many people with my drinking. I have been trying to make amends with these people, but some people I know will need a lot of time to forgive me. My self-loathing from drinking affected the ones around me. I have hurt the people that were close to me that cared about me. I have broken girls’ hearts by cheating on them; I have broken their trust and faith in future men. I have said things that I did not mean. I have selfishly done things to myself that have caused others pain. I hope that these people will never forget, but at least be able to forgive me for my wrong doings.

           I am grateful that this person felt so strongly that they contacted me, because it has given me another chance to turn something negative into something positive. It just goes to show you that even though some people try and pull you back into the mistakes of your past, what they are actually doing is pulling you back to sling shot you forward for a better motivation toward your goal.

           This is a story given to me from a strong survivor who wished to remain anonymous. Here is her story. 

STILL A MAN

           My name is Michael Mendoza. A man raped me when I was 7 years old.  I will get into a short story about it, but honestly all I remember is how old I was and how I was just so unsure of my sexuality after that moment in my life.

Everything that happened before 7 were just the typical things that an American boy goes through. I was in the boy scouts and I looked up to and emulated my father – a retired Marine and (at the time) police officer.

My mother was a school teacher, and taught independent study to troubled teens and young adults to get their high school diplomas. I was just your average run of the mill young boy, trying to live an everyday American life. I’m not going to go into great detail about myself before the age of 7 or 8, because honestly it is boring as fuck. However a few months shy of turning 8 -- the only year I was not in Roman Catholic school -- everything changed.

           Rape does not just happen to women, it can happen to men. If it has happened to a man, you are still a man. Anyone can be a victim, and if you are, that means that you have given up the will to fight. However, if you have been raped, molested, or sexually assaulted and you’re reading this, you are a survivor.

Well, here you are now, my friend: pushing forward, waking up, going to work, making food and continuing your life. Good job! Do not let that vile person who decided to take their rage out on you control your life.

           At the age of 5, I went to a Roman Catholic School. From then on all I knew is that I was Roman Catholic and that I should not sin -- whatever the fuck that meant. The thing is, when my sister and I were kids, we were taken to Presbyterian Church on Sundays but we attended a Roman Catholic school. We were unaware what that meant. We just thought they were the same thing, since Presbyterianism and Catechism are a part of Christianity. We didn’t differentiate, but we found out later from our peers that there is a difference.

           In the second grade, my parents informed my sister and I that we were to attend a public school for at least a year. We were to do this for financial reasons, however in no way is my life changing predicament related to me changing schools.

I was completely unaware of what to expect. I was being taught to do ‘Hail Mary's’ and ‘Our Fathers’ every Friday, so when we didn't have to say the sign of the cross or any prayers, I was confused.

           Of course I do not remember it all that well, just that we were taught general information.  But what I do remember and will never forget is Mr. Johnson. This man was without a doubt, the most hateful man I have ever come across. When we were in class and a student would speak over him he would say, “I wish I could reach down your throat and squeeze your heart until it stops beating.”

I didn't realize until I was a teenager, how fucked up that is to say to children. Who the fuck is going to stop him though? No one else is in the classroom in there to filter what the fuck he says.

I had this great influence as a teacher before I had my life changing moment.

           (Before I get into this I would like to mention that I have tried to recall this experience better, but have figured out that with a combination of PTSD and by self-medicating through alcohol that I have been trying my whole life to forget this experience. So forgive my haziness.)

The Rape.

           Typically, at the age of 8 you do not know shit about sex. At this age I knew nothing about sex, just that it involves a man and a woman -- nothing more. I was at a friend’s house, spending the night and we were playing duck hunt: just 2 young boys hanging out and playing Nintendo. We then went to sleep, and there was nothing more to it.

           Until later on that night I heard a creek coming from the front.  The door was opening. As a child, waking up from small sounds isn't a big deal – I would brush it off and usually fall right back to sleep. But there was a light knock on the room door that my friend and I were in. A man came in and said to me (Not verbatim -- how I remember):

Rapist: “Hey, are you awake?” Me: “Yes, why are you up? Who are you?” Rapist: “I’m a friend of your friend’s mom.” Me: “Oh, okay. Well are you okay? Why can’t you sleep?” Rapist: “I just need some help.” Me: “Is there anything I can do? I hate it when I can’t go to sleep.” Rapist: “Just come with me.” Me: “My mom told me not to go with strangers anywhere.” Rapist: “I know your mom, and your friends mom, I’m no stranger.” Me: “Well, okay then.” I then walked with the man outside. There was a van outside, and he threw me in. I don’t remember the details from there. Honestly, I would not even recognize this man if he were standing right in front of me. I woke up in the same bed in which I was previously sleeping. All I could think was, “Did that really happen last night?”