I’m going to touch a part of my life that’s really really hurt and what’s more I’m going to share more about it. It’s not because I want people all over the world to cry, though I’m sure some of our world leaders need a reality check, it’s more because this is one of those endless nights when I’m up late alone and I am looking at my phone and realizing I have no one to call for these moments. And that I don’t even really want to reach out right now.
For people who have followed this blog, you know the basic timeline, but for the newbies, I shall rehash.
2014 my grandma falls off a two story ladder and smashes her face in. She loses her mind thanks to bleeding in her brain and is broken, emaciated, and bleeding internally under the care of my stepgrandfather- who is the bastard who raped and tortured me for years growing up. He swore back to front she would get better but I can tell you, the last time I saw her, I wouldn’t even treat an animal the way my grandma was being treated by him. She was suffering and it was disgusting to watch because there were just a few good, upstanding Mormon people, and my family. And if we had made the decision to pull the plug on her blood transfusions and release her, she would not have suffered for an extra year in his incapable hands.
September 2015 We are faced with two choices. We can kill grandma or we can kill grandma. We decided to kill grandma.
September 2015 My uncle has a heart attack and what are the odds, they put in his stint wrong and 3 days later they slice him open again to fix their mistake… And make him pay for it.
September 2015 I attend my grandma’s funeral and see my stepgrandfather in person. At this point all I know is that I hate him and I feel like throwing up whenever he’s within a mile of me.
I have my first PTSD nightmare of him raping me in my childhood bedroom. I wake up and know instantly that life will never, ever be the same again. I get out of bed to search the room to make sure that he is not there. I say a prayer to God for comfort and calm but I know deep down that this is only the beginning. I begin to have those nightmares every night. And every day I have flashbacks. Thousands of them. If my hand brushed over any part of my body he ever touched I would gag and run to the nearest bathroom. I became aggressive and terrified of any older white male- which, as a member of the LDS church, is not such a good thing for nurturing a testimony.
I noticed that if I was hungry to the point of fainting, I didn’t have as many flashbacks. Home life was hard. Any home where your daughter can lose 15% of her bodyweight and not have anyone notice for months, is a home where something rough is going down.
- I did have a few really good friends and there were some very good teachers and ward members who tried to reach out and help. KT. Tyson. Sahana. The girls from my tennis team. Sometimes just sweet neighbors I’d run into once in a while. I also had my friend Maya who did not miss a trick and knew I was putting on a show.
Why was I putting on a show? Well if you spent five minutes in my house, you’d know. We inspired the term functioning dysfunction.
Being raised Mormon, and I say this as someone who has been through a lot and who still tries to salvage what I can, was like trying to fit a camel through the eye of a needle. I felt choked, restricted, my whole life. And it didn’t help that some of the LDS men who were upstanding good members of the Mormon community were raping me and threatening to kill me and my little sister on the lowlow. I always had a feeling of great anger towards them but I tried, I swear to you, I tried so hard to become what I was not. I threw myself into the religion and became very very “orthodox” very strict, very judgmental. I thought that if I followed every rule in the book, that I would be better, that I would be happy.
I was wrong. Not because everything they teach is wrong and bad because it’s not, but because I was missing the point of it all.
If I had to choose the point of Mormonism? To become like Christ. To bear each other’s burdens. To love unconditionally. To protect. To help. To be there.
This cutesy stuff about wearing a special kind of clothing and going to church every week, those are like training tools you use for a dog. The dog knows when the harness goes on, we’re working. They are training aids and heck, they help a lot of people become better people.
Speaking for myself… I came to a point where I had to choose between my religion and my life. Counsel I was given by church leaders- and I ask that you don’t criticize this particular portion of my writing because you weren’t there and you don’t know what happened so just listen to it as I tell it, think on it, and change your life for the better thank you- endangered my life. I was told to take medications by a church leader and that medication nearly killed me and would have if not for timely intervention. That church leader is now a Stake President. BTW. I don’t know about you but I don’t think a bishop should be ordering me to take medications that alter my brain chemistry even if he’s a psychiatrist. If I ain’t payin’ him, an interview for a temple recommend is no place for that conversation.
and that wasn’t the first examples and it’s not the last either.
The man who raped me is still an upright member of the LDS community. Oh and the guy who sexually assaulted me at PCC a few months ago? Engaged. Return missionary. Getting married in the Laie Hawaii Temple.
You wanna know who built that temple?
MY FAMILY. MY GREAT GREAT GRANDFATHER HYRUM KONRAD POPP who changed his name like 4 times because no one could pronounce it when, honoring his sick mother’s dearest wish, he immigrated to America. He started out as a tailor and he learned English fluently. His boss told him he was too smart to just be a tailor for the rest of his life so he went to study and become an architect. So he did. And then fresh out of that, his first real project, the LDS church wanted to build a temple in Hawaii so that the members of the church from Polynesia could have a place to take out their endowments and seal their ancestors to them the Mormon way.
Of all the temples I ever walked into, the Laie Hawaii temple is the only one I feel comfortable in. The others feel so… lauded. They gush with opulence and the finest decorations but are missing something.
First time I came to Laie Hawaii temple I met my Tongan grandfather Elder Kinikini and he gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and you put your slippahs on the shelf and go in to do the work. It’s small. It’s not super fancy. It is beautiful but not overdone. There aren’t any crystal chandeliers that I saw. It was like a home. I felt welcome which I have never really felt in other temples even walking on the grounds I felt nervous and anxious.
It wasn’t a worthiness issue I assure you. I was a straight from the book type of member back then doing everything I was supposed to. This is more like feeling like I belong to a place which for someone like me, is a very big thing.
And that’s where the man who groped me and would have raped me if I’d been less careful is going to get married this summer.
I can’t even walk onto the grounds anymore because I feel so sad that he can act that way, and still have access to the Lord’s temple. Whereas someone like me, merely for the reason of not having gone on a mission or getting married, cannot enter certain parts of the temple despite my worthiness to do so. Because I’m a woman. A single. Young woman.
OH my gosh the timeline.
September- grandma dies uncle has heart attack I get struck down by my PTSD and my anorexia nervosa at the same time and begin survival behaviors including starvation excessive exercise and avoiding sleep and a whole lot of other things. October 2015 I get into a very serious car accident and survive almost unscathed but am severely traumatized by the experience. My best friend KT enters my life and he figures out something is wrong and so he made an effort to be there for me. November 2015 my first near suicide attempt right after my birthday. KT stopped me. January 2016 my older sister gets married. I am so anorexic at this point that I’m having blackouts and my period is going crazy too. I’m still not able to sleep either. I’m shoving people away and hiding a lot of things and spending almost half an hour a day locked in the bathroom during classes because I got triggered and I had to go vomit and cry until it “wore off”. February 2016- I made the tennis team on a tibial stress fracture and never got to play a game. I continued to lose weight and so my Dr. Dr. Overlin makes me go see a sports nutritionist and a physical therapist. She saved my life. March 2016- love of my life my precious Maltese named Angel had come down with Cushing’s disease 7 months prior and I had begged to get pain medication or to have her put down for the same amount of time but my family refused. So asides my other issues and violin and tennis and cooking for the family ETC I had to sit there and watch my dog succumbing to a very painful disease. I get on crutches, and then a week or so later, we put Angel to sleep. KT who had been my best friend up to this point who was the only one besides me and Tyson who knew all of what was going on, disappeared. No explanation. No goodbye. No answers. And I tried so hard to reach him. So hard. like if you google creepy stalker, I did everything on that list. May 2016 I somehow graduate high school while continuing a bajillion doctors appointments and doing therapy and somehow keeping most of this a secret from most of the people in my life. July 2016 My best friend Maya dies. 2 days later my uncle dies. And then 2 weeks after that I get on a plane to go to college.
First few months of college I loved my major it wasn’t school that was so bad it was my disability. I was depressed and still had PTSD and I made the mistake of being honest about it. You’ll see how that bites me in the butt later.
November- I am ordered by a bishop basically he says that he will not help me get a temple recommend or help me with my family relationships (which were a shambles) unless I take Prozac. I took the smallest dose and blacked out for 2 hours. Fell to the floor. unresponsive. Alone in my dorm room. And I was told that sideeffects would take a couple weeks to manifest. Apparently not. It happened every time I took a dose and I only made it through one week. By Saturday I was delirious, suicidal, and very very sick. I still showed up to my “friend’s” wedding to support her but I paid a pretty hefty price for it.
At the time I was also being bullied and gossiped about a lot by nice LDS people who smile and go to church with me every Sunday and tell me how cute I look. If I were to sum up their comments I’m a crazy whore who tries to get men into bed with me by lying about being raped in my childhood. Oh and also I should just have “gotten over it” by now. If I was just more righteous I wouldn’t be like this. If I prayed more. YAHYA I KNOW I went to the same Sunday school as you and then I grew up and stopped drinking the Kool-Aid.
December- I don’t even remember but I know it was bad. I also know that there was a man who took advantage of my emotional state to pleasure himself and that I went into shock and couldn’t do anything about it. Oh and then he spread a bunch of rumors about how badly I wanted him and how I had begged to make out with him.
That son of a bitch is an RM and he got married in the temple to a nice white LDS girl from Utah who has got no clue the monster she just married. OH and despite his 3 strikes of violence and sexual assault and a history of sexual harassment, he’s coming back to BYUH! Awesome. Let’s let the snake back in the house. He didn’t bite enough people the first time.
February 14 2017 I self harmed for the first time. Instead of helping me. People decided to spread rumors and avoid me because I was obviously “crazy”.
March 2017 I decided to go get some serious help because I was depressed and I just wasn’t going to make it. A few weeks after my plane ticket is purchased for me to go to rehab, I nearly get raped at the Polynesian Cultural Center.
And oh wait, there’s more.
Some of the Samoan guys who knew what was up and who believed me and who I thought were good people, got wind of what happened. And they came off all supportive like “Hannah come see us at the library”. And what happened? I ended up doing their homework because if I did their homework, they would call or they would hang out with me.
I was self harming, throwing up all the time, and when I wasn’t doing that I was crying and having nightmares and not sleeping, and they decided that that was the perfect moment to ask me for “help” with their English homework?
Oh and it gets better because I kept helping them even when I was in treatment and I held onto their calls like the last life vest on the Titanic because things with my family are still so so hard and I thought I could count on these guys. I was wrong. I was absolutely fucking wrong. They all got girlfriends when I left and suddenly they didn’t call as much. They promised back to front for four months straight that when I got off the plane from rehab they would be there at the airport.
I nearly died about 4 times in rehab alone thanks to medications and just how hard it is on anyone to go through that. The last time I was in the hospital and I was told if you took one more pill you would have suffocated and died. And I have a whole post about that from March 2017 as being it’s own version of hell. And then I get a call from Lima. And he says “Hannah I’m broke and we can’t come get you”
And I was like are you f-ing kidding me?
OH wait. Censored version
He wasn’t. And so I had to find a ride home from the airport, being discharged from a hospital a mere 36 hours earlier, to move to a new house with NO help whatsoever. One friend did post that I needed a ride so I dropped $60 just to get a ride home. I’d nearly died two days earlier. No biggie.
July 2017 I have been having a very hard time and had almost no friends left thanks to the incidents of the previous year. So I kept trying to meet up with Lima and Ezra and Tai because I really really wanted to see them, I’d been dreaming about it and hoping for it for months to help me survive that hellhole. (it was actually a very nice facility it’s just that the stuff we talked about and brought up would give anyone’s stomach a turn for the worse) and guess what. “We’re too busy with our girlfriends”
Now. Their girlfriends are lovely little LDS girls. And what do they decide to do? Well. Lima tells his girlfriend everything about me and my history and she decides that someone died and made her the queen of everything and starts hella rumors in the Samoan community here that I’m a lying grasping whore who tried to steal her boyfriend by faking that I was suicidal. Ezra’s girlfriend who is now his darling wife despite her being quite the little bitch, called me a liar and said I was only doing it for attention and all kinds of BS. I’ve never even met that bitch and thank God because I have used up so much of my patience just dealing with my disability that anything else is a take my earrings off and beat this fool typea situation.
November 2017- Lima’s girlfriend and Ezra’s girlfriend, aided and abetted by other cliquey LDS upstanding Mormon girls, continue the rumor campaign and involve their parents and friends and community in it. This gets to be important. Why? See March 2018. Oh and the whole time their boyfriends just go alone with it. Don’t you just love these boys? Oh so do I. OH and at one point one of the girls threatens me. I sent her a very mature reply and blocked her and I ain’t never spoken to her in person either but what I would have loved to say is
December 2017 I go to AZ to deal with legal stuff related to a rape case and realize we don’t have enough evidence to jail any of the bastards that did this to me and that they have access to kids. I come back to school and have a major relapse.
February 2018- I have a suicidal episode that lasted 2 months straight. I could not stop thinking about killing myself. I craved self harm like you crave caramel. I needed it. I wanted it. I was despondent and felt like a failure. I couldn’t see any hope. It didn’t even matter that we had brought up talk of a service dog for me at that point because I felt like no one would even listen or care.
March 2018- I go to the Polynesian Cultural Center a lot less anyways but in this case one time before one of the guys working there had fixed my back for me one time and my back had been hurting for over a month. So I asked him to fix it. Full details are in another post and when I remember what it is I will insert the link. It has the Evil Queen as the first meme and all The Devil Wears Prada GIFs. Oh and why did he choose me? Well he told me that people were spreading all kinds of rumors about me (which is true) and that they would talk if they saw us together.
I, being an idiot, thinking that this engaged return missionary and upstanding member of the LDS faith would not try to rape me at work- WAS PROVEN WRONG.
And I was so ashamed of myself for what I saw as a lapse of judgment that I did not report until my friend drove me to security and MADE me report it. I was ashamed and tired and I knew that if I reported then he would lie and then those friends of his would all vouch for him and then this might happen again. I might get beat up or worse if anyone did get sent home.
That being said I have been threatened before and I doubt this latest series of events will go over well.
Also for anyone who is not in my same position with LDS men or just men in general. When you have just one experience like I had where you were being raped and called a whore in the name of the holy priesthood, allow me to use a visual aid. This is how I feel when I go to church now or hear about church or sit through a gospel lesson.
If it made you vomit, same. I saw that as a young child and never recovered.
May 2018- I invest over $700 to go to Nevada and I go see a trainer. We choose out a beautiful husky and she’s perfect for me and I bond to her and I feel the best I have in forever. I’ve come off my medication and am feeling more normal and in control, and I feel like I finally have a shot at having things out of the way so that I can put in more work on my recovery. The trainer repossesses the dog not even two days after I leave Nevada and says that Keyah snapped at her and was going to bite and that she was disqualified from training. I never saw any evidence that it was true and then things got very petty and nasty on both sides. Even some comments targeted right at my PTSD about me “not trusting anyone” HELL YEAH I DON’T and this is totally going to help. I even got some lovely text messages from her 19 year old daughter.
I was fourteen. A LONG time ago.
I ain’t goin’ back you can’t make me.
June 2018- even with reports and copies of all the homework those boys cheated on plus phone calls plus follow up interviews plus screenshots and pictures and the fact that people saw them do it and they even used a friend’s messenger to tell me to do their homework, those boys are still at school. Nothing happened to them. Nothing is happening to this guy who almost raped me either. Nothing nothing nothing.
Pays to be popular, kids.
It also pays to be a religious university that is mismanaged, willfully underfunded, and has a culture of suppressing rape cases as well as a lack of decent medical care and cultural understanding. What happens here is exactly why BYU Provo got their butts sued for whatever they had recently and it should have happened here ages ago. What ARE you old white men doing in those mighty God-endowed positions of power?? Eating crumpets with jam?
Also how would it look if their precious IWORK students turned out to be a bunch of cheaters and got sent home? OH my. What a crisis. If it was a white kid you mark my words their butt would be on the plane home but no. Our precious little Samoan boys need to go home and contribute.
Oh you mean these same Samoan boys who lied, cheated, watched their girlfriends spread rumors, spread rumors on their own about me that led me to nearly get raped again, who don’t obey the honor code and who are overall very very out of line- they get to stay? They get to keep their jobs and their future whereas mine was almost ended because the first thing I did after the guy groped all over me was run and try to find a way to kill myself where no one would find the body, running miles in the dark.
How the fuck can this be okay?
So if you add up all the expenses of that trip it’s almost a thousand dollars and I don’t have financial support for the dog. My family can afford my schooling fine but my medical costs for a service dog? I’m supposed to raise the funds. OH and I never got my money back from the lady who was suppose to train the dog for me.
How much is a fully trained dog? $30,000 plus expenses. Cheaper option is $15,000.
Training it myself is about $7,000.
How much money do I make? with taxes $7 an hour and I can’t work more than 20 hours a week and in fact right now I’m not even getting 20 hours a week. so in a few years I can have a dog. The only problem is my PTSD is putting my current job in jeopardy AND lost me my last job. So I’m also in the market for a new job.
How am I feeling right now at 11:36pm on a Thursday night in a dark house? Not great. Because you won’t believe what I found out today. The guy who sexually assaulted me last year?
Sidenote I didn’t used to swear until I went through rehab. Now I swear.
Also I’m looking for a lawyer.
Sorry this wasn’t a more cheerful post but now you have a better idea as to why I haven’t been consistent in posting. We’re up to 150 followers and I hope in upcoming days I’ll have good news to share but for now I’m going to call it a night and leave you with one last inspiring thought.
Karma’s a bitch. If it got you, it’ll get them too.