Rupi Kaur poetry


I was silenced by Rape Culture

• trigger warning •

it’s pretty scary that this is going to be an aspect of my past that is openly spoken about here. this is something that haunted me for a long time until I eventually repressed it… and when something triggered my memory and I began to think about this again a few months ago I became so angry.

I am still angry about this 7-8 years later. So the only way I can think is to let it out here.


I was sexually assaulted while I slept, camping in a tent with three other friends… and my then ex boyfriend. for the longest time I’ve felt like I must have deserved it, like I encouraged it (we had all been drinking the night before and I remember being a bit cuddly with him while we were all chatting) but no, there is no excuse for molestation when someone is asleep next to you, in a tent with three other girls who are also asleep.

I was fully clothed, and all I remember is waking up on top of him. He must have flipped my leg over and pulled me onto him while I slept. He then used my body to rub himself off, and it hurt. It hurt my stomach because we were both fully clothed and his belt dug into me. I didn’t know what to do, I was still half asleep at 5am and suddenly being woken up, drowsy from drinking, so I waited for when he eventually finished, and I then rolled off pretending to be asleep.

now here’s the fucked up bit that makes me angry.

I stopped speaking to him instantly, I couldn’t look at him. I was a deeply socially anxious, depressed and at the time suicidal girl. a month or so later I confronted him. through tumblr of all things. we had an argument with him denying all knowledge of what he did, but also claiming that he “must have been asleep”. he knows what happened and pretended it was like sleep walking. he then publicly posted one of my replies to him (in which I’m being really nasty and arguing with him about it).

at this point two of the people I was close to at the time proceeded to step in. tumblr was great because you could send anonymous messages very easily. one messaged him as himself: telling him not to be a dick and take this post down(or something like that), and the other decided to message him multiple times anonymously… but typing in different ways… calling him a rapist as a scare tactic to get him to take the post down – obv thinking my ex would think it was his followers. I had nothing to do with that, this friend was one of the few standing up for me… but unfortunately that actually caused more pain for me in the long run than it did for my ex.

my ex was an outspoken, charismatic and generally well liked person – and I was shy, reserved, appearing bitchy, judgemental and up myself because of my social anxiety. he obviously panicked and believed that I had told a bunch of people that I had been raped… which was never true. I was molested and never claimed anything different to the very few people I chose to tell. but he told a lot of people that I was claiming that he raped me, seemingly out of the blue. he never had to admit to anyone or himself that he did something wrong, that he molested me in a tent while I slept.

rape is an awful thing, I consider myself very lucky that I have never been a victim, and have the hugest sympathy for anyone who has been through such a serious thing. a moral person does not lie about rape or sexual assault. unfortunately the people who were told about the situation by my ex and myself admittedly made it all worse. But when the subject of rape was brought up, instead of my ex, I was the one that was shunned, judged, called a cunt in the hallways, I lost most of the close friends I had at the time (including all the ones who were present when it happened). those that stuck around and bothered to ask what actually happened are still my best friends today.

this situation caused my isolation, and is heavily linked to my soon to happen afterwards second suicide attempt. all because instead of anyone believing or even bothering to question what happened, I was told that I either must have deserved it or that I made it up for attention.

It’s unfortunately too late for me to stand up and do something. too much time has gone by for this to be taken seriously by anyone. but it doesn’t make the way I was treated okay. it is not okay to tell someone that they are lying, or that because I flirted with him while drunk I was asking for sex. But I slept fully clothed next to him. I was not asking for it. Consent cannot be given when you are unconscious.

It has fucked with my mind for the longest time, and unfortunately effected my future relationships after that point. I became mistrusting, heavily anxious and could not stand physical touch by anyone except someone I truly trusted and knew for a long time. I’m finally standing up for myself and talking about it, because although it was “college drama”, these things can effect you for a long time. we still live in a world that would sooner call a woman an “attention seeker” than question a man for his own immoral actions.

at the end of the day I have only been able to process that something was done to me and that I didn’t ask for it very recently, because of this. And I am angry for the women who have been through worse than I have and remain unable to talk.


~ I’ve been reflecting a lot recently, thinking back to who I was a year ago; letting anxiety rule my life constantly being in fear just to leave the house, focused all of my energy on being someone Im not for the benefit of other people, running away from who I am because it would mean facing up to the reality of depression.

instead boxing it all away and putting on a happy face to keep up appearances. It wasn’t until I burned out and hit rock bottom that I began to open up to the people in my life, also speaking openly about it on ig that I stopped feeling so secluded, like I was wrong or broken.

it just shows how important openly talking about mental health can be, because you begin to realise just how many people are affected too. Since opening up my relationships with those around me have strengthened, and I have been blessed with some of the most gorgeous, kind and wonderful human beings since I began posting it 🌷

those that have and continue to reach out to me over the last year have no idea truly how much love I have in my heart for you, we may not speak often but I consider you guys some of the dearest to me.

I don’t generally go into detail about the struggles I’ve dealt with mentally because I want to keep my social media a happy, but also an open place. There are good days and there are bad days, but they don’t define you as a person. You are worthy of both love and happiness, and sometimes the journey can begin by accepting who you are, that your mental health problems are a part of you, and knowing that you aren’t alone ~ #mh #mhawareness #youarenotalone

Does anyone else find their pet hugely comforting in times of sadness?

Almost in a protective kind of way? Pets can feel our emotions and I’m SOOOO lucky to have this hairy (angry looking) little angel in my life. She has sensed things going on and stayed by my side almost constantly. I wake up and she’s there already snuggled and asleep in my arm. I hide away in the bathroom, garden, wherever and she still tracks me down.

She is not a lap cat or very affectionate so to anyone with a cat like that you can see why I’m so amazed by how empathic she is. The love of an animal is a blessing and a huge reason as to why I’m still seemingly functional.

Ft my incomplete tattoo of her 💜

Everyone has their story

and this one is mine. I choose to own my story by sharing it, because that way it can’t control me, and I no longer fear what people will think of me.

TW: social anxiety, depression, anorexia, SH, attempted S

I grew up a painfully “shy” girl. I put up a post the other day which about summed it up, but in short I have severe social anxiety which when I was young developed into selective mutism. I couldn’t physically speak to most people until a series of interventions with a couple of the amazing lady teachers at my primary school. But up until the last three years of my life I was still unable to speak to people I didn’t know well. I would finally be diagnosed with severe social anxiety and depression when I was 19.

I developed anorexia from the age of 14, something that I still struggle with but have been in remission since last December. That’s a big deal for me, I’ve only skipped maybe a handful of meals since then, which anyone who knows the feeling knows how difficult that can be not to slip back into. I still look at myself sometimes and hate what I see, I want to go back to 6.5 stone. I’m currently 8.5 which is my healthy weight though, and I need to remember that I am not fat, i am healthy.

Starting to realise that 14 was a bad age for me – I am 24 years old and have just passed the 10 year anniversary of my first attempt at taking my own life. A botched attempt at overdosing, loss of consciousness and waking up a few hours later, being sick, then carrying on with nobody in my family or my few friends knowing or noticing.

After that things seemed to get better, but I would soon be put on a hormonal contraceptive (Rigevidon which should NOT still be in circulation for sooo many reasons) which would drastically worsen my depression. I was in a perpetual mood swing, always tired, angry and would switch at the drop of a hat. My poor partner dealt with the brunt of it always, and I stopped taking it after a full blown mental breakdown followed by a heated argument with him… all because my mum suggested that it might be effecting my mood. I’ve not touched it since and never will.

I’d make a second attempt at ending things while I was in college, and developed my method of self harm.. mainly using hot water on my hands. Something I’ve lately been falling back to I’m ashamed to say. But it’s better than the other option of razors. My scars are almost unseeable now and I don’t want to make more… not really.

I’ve lost sight of why I’m putting this here. I guess what I want to say is that I’ve been depressed, anxious, suicidal, and in some ways I still am. The last year of my life is the closest I’ve been to that place in a long time. Many bad habits I’m still going back to and I feel like a hypocrite and a failure, I want to promote positivity but I feel so tired. I am still struggling and feel like I can’t be fully honest about that. I guess that’s what this blog is for though… to really talk about it.

But these days I know there is always something worth seeing tomorrow. There is good to come if you can face those thoughts and feelings, just to not allow them in to stay.