One year ago, I stopped writing Articulate Ana. I was hoping to up my score on the life-is-good scale by focusing on positive rather than negative things in life. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out...
I’m back
The Last Post
Do you know that film scene where a young woman dressed in a pencil skirt storms out of her boss' office steaming with anger, yelling "I quit!"? Well, I don't think I would ever physically be able to do that, to be honest, so here's my equivalent: dear readers, dear followers; I've decided to stop blogging. This is my final post.
Not so brave after all
Fifteen years after the abuse ended, I arranged a meeting with the police. I was determined not to let my life be ruled by fear anymore. I felt brave and strong. Strong enough to finally, for once and for all, stand up against the man who ruined so many things for me. Or, that's what I thought...
Letter To My Abuser
Dear V, So much has happened since we last saw each other. Do you remember that day? You hugged me like everything was normal; fleetingly, as if nothing had ever happened...
“Why me?!” (the none-desperate version)
When you think about it, very few things in life happen for absolutely no good reason. Even winning the lottery can only happen because I decide to buy a ticket. Pure good or bad luck is extremely rare. Which makes me wonder: if not for bad luck, why did I end up being sexually abused? Well, here are five reasons why...
The Land of My Rapist
Living abroad has one big advantage: I live far away from the person who raped me. The North Sea, the barbed wires in Calais and Dover and the austere-looking border control officers between him and me make me feel a little bit safer. But today I'm traveling back to The Netherlands. And as much as I'm trying to think about all the good things my country has in store for me, I can't stop thinking that I'm traveling to the country of my rapist.
A Lousy Excuse for a Hardship
My sister and I grew up in the same house. We have the same mother and the same father. We went to the same primary school and the same secondary school. We both have a big nose, and we both wore dental braces when we were young. So here's the million dollar question: why can my sister dance while cooking, whist I haven't been able to cook myself a proper meal in months?
Gotta Love Those Rainy Days
Organising things is one of my favourite pastimes, especially on cold and rainy days. I love boxing things, categorising things, throwing things away. Today, I was going through my box of 'memorable items': festival bracelets, broken violin strings, film tickets, jewellery, notes from friends ... CONTINUE READING
Under my skin
I was recently interviewed for a book, Please Tell Someone. It's a collection of stories, interviews, poems, blog posts and letters from survivors of sexual assault...CONTINUE READING
Me, Myself and My Inner Child (part 2)
As sceptical as I am, even 'the inner child' deserves a fair chance. Unfortunately, my inner scientist seems to throw up barriers whenever it can... CONTINUE READING
Articulate Ana 