Fuck man. Sometimes I just want to scream at the world “Stop! Just SHUT UP!” This comes amidst helpless, tired, desperate tears.
I was woken to my daughter coming into my bedroom at five this morning because she had a potty accident and wanted to come in my bed. I was so exhausted and barely awake as I told her to climb in. However for whatever reason in that overly exhausted awake but not fully state, each time I started to fall asleep, when my mind was beyond my control but I was very aware of it, it decided to send me back to the time of my rape. I wouldn’t quite label it a flashback but it was more than a memory. This is about when it happened. About the time 12 years ago I didn’t choose to lose my virginity to the senior boy two years older than me who could smell my desperation to be loved and weakness to be able to overpower me. He knew I was so naive and desperate I would trust him and I did.
Fuck. And this morning I could feel that cool winter air as the small, elite group of us show choir students went out to dinner together and then to someone’s house before all dressed in our matching black ties and floor length dresses. It wasn’t the night of my rape. That was a few weeks later. This was the night of the bait. The memories I am flashing back to aren’t of the rape and the fear and complete disconnect from my body (though like painful daggers they occasionally stab at my conscious). No I’m flashing to the joy (I could barely type that word and tears are flowing down my cheeks in disgust with myself for how naive I was) when Eric looked at me. When he sat next to me at dinner. When he seemed to notice me, then ignored me, then seemed to insecurely and innocently text me after our concert saying he liked me and my heart skipping beats. For the two weeks before our first date, my silly fantasies and me writing our first names with just his last name and imagining a wonderful date, my dream date, of watching a movie and snuggling on the couch.
Goddammit! And it’s fucking intense too. At this moment I am writing simply because if I don’t I might lose it. I might not stay safe. I would give anything to cut myself to pieces because this flashing back is killing me right now and cutting is the quickest way I’ve found to end this hell. Fun fact: apparently you can’t experience intense physical pain and intense emotional pain at the same time. This is why cutting is so effective. As I used to cut into actual fat, deep within my body, it should be some indication how horrid this moment mentally is for me. I. Cannot. Take. This.
And you know what the first thing I did this morning was to try to escape this hell? It’s the first thing I always do. I grabbed my phone. I didn’t want to be alone so I grabbed it and jumped on social media and what showed up on my news feed really fucking sucks. There’s posts accusing Trumps wife of being a prostitute and a formal apology from a news source but the post asking people who like this woman and still think she’s a prostitute. There’s posts about men being ridiculous about the new awareness and more strict rules towards sexual harassment and defensive women writing responses. There’s pictures of which public figure men have recently been fired while pointing out Trump is still in office. There’s anger and debate and name calling and judging and would everyone just STOP! Just stop!!
Can’t you see this is killing me? Where is the sensitivity from either side? Great you think our president is scum and society was wrong for electing him. Me too; it has felt the whole time like one of my many abusers was elected into office and is incredibly triggering, but before you continue to stand on your high horse be aware your reposts of pictures filled with hate and judgement are not helping. You want to help? Really help and not just stir the pot or add kindle to the hate fire? Stop liking and reposting those pictures and how about show some vulnerability. There’s been so many women saying me too but no one sharing their story. It’s a start. It is. But it’s not enough to say me too and then use it for justification for your hate and bitterness.
I’m not saying you aren’t entitled to your feelings. You are. They are so valid and part of what I’m working on in therapy is trying to access that anger towards my abusers because I can’t currently. I’m still trapped in my cage of fear and sorrow. But who are you trying to help by spreading your anger and hate? Hate and anger will only take us so far. Anger will break down walls but only love will rebuild. If all we do is break down walls then we might be free from our cage but we still live amongst brokenness.
Stop. Please. I am hurting. I am hurting from so much sexual abuse from male and female far deeper than anyone realizes. I don’t want to hear you didn’t know. Save your guilty conscience for yourself. That’s not my responsibility. And I don’t want people getting angry at my abusers. One of them killed them self the day after my birthday and some are still an unavoidable part of my life I love and want to be able to fully forgive. The abusers are sick and broken too. This doesn’t make their behavior right but when our anger has broken down all the walls, we need to figure out what to do next and how to rebuild and we can only do that with love and I think empathy is the path towards learning how to love.
I get you’ve been hurt. I get you are hurting. I’m hurting too. Today I can’t breathe. Today my mind is beyond my control. Today tears are flowing down my face and I’m praying desperately when I go to church later to create a weekly chalkboard that the sanctuary is dark and empty because I REALLY want to be alone with God in that place where I find myself on my most desperate days when I don’t think I can keep fighting and that is where I am today. I don’t know if when I go to sleep tonight if I will have fresh cuts on my body and am angry because it’s been almost four years (January 2nd). It shouldn’t be this hard still.
Please. Help me. Stop spreading hate. I need help rebuilding my life but only love builds. I’ll help you too because I have love to spare because I believe in a God of perfect love whose supply never runs dry. We are ALL beloved people of God. I do not wish that boy who raped me and then killed himself a few years after my birthday to be dead. It brought me no justice. I wish he, too, knew he was beloved and had been taught that. Maybe he could have helped other boys and men who were assaulting women and could have made a difference. What justice are you seeking with your anger and hate? Will it truly satisfy you? Live your life how you want, but please consider we are ALL broken. We ALL make mistakes. And we are ALL beloved as we are right now, mistakes, brokenness, including all we’ve hurt or assaulted, and all we’ve been hurt or assaulted by. We are ALL deserving of being loved. You are beloved.