Archive for January, 2005
They’re all around us… Rapists, molesters, abusers, murderers. Often the last people you’d suspect, they appear innocent and harmless. Do you ever take a good look at the people around you and wonder? I do.
I wonder about Donnie and the others who violated me. They destroy a slice of who you are and then eventually disappear… Where do they run and how do they hide from the guilt? Do they even feel it?
Where is he today? Does he have a wife? Children? Daughters perhaps? Have they become his victims too – Or does he love them and live in constant fear that they could be hurt by someone just like him?
Or does he simply live through lies?
Fresh memories bring fresh pain. The pain passes and I develop a slew of questions… How would my life be different without these scarring experiences? Who would I have become? Would my loved ones be freed from the emotional intimacy problems that plague me?
As embarassing as this is, I’ve fantasized about finding Donnie and holding him captive until he owns the truth about what he did. He should know that I blamed myself, “If only I hadn’t ditched school, and if only I didn’t drink” and spent years feeling dirty and used.
I want him to feel remorse, to know that he robbed me of so many good things. If only there were some way to force him to accept what he has done. Healing will come for me regardless – but what about him? It must be miserable walking around with those dark secrets.
January 31st, 2005
His name was Donnie. I don’t like his name because the “ie” forces you to say it with a smile, and there’s not a single thing about him that makes me want to smile.
There were opportunities to get to know him but I wasn’t interested. He was very popular, as evidenced by the horde of girls lusting after him. This made no difference to me, because I found him nothing more than crude and smug.
The place where our paths crossed regularly was Orchestra practice. He played the trumpet, which makes it even less surprising that he fancied himself such the stud. Once in a while I would catch him staring at me. Creepy that he never became embarrassed enough to look away.
Circumstances once brought us together in idle chat with mutual friends. Out of left field he voiced a lengthy analysis about the shape of my breasts. He had hoped I’d be flattered, but instead I was mortified and it only sealed my distaste for him.
The first time I ever got drunk was on a Friday afternoon at Abby’s house. We ditched school together and went to her house. She opened up her father’s liquor cabinet and made me drinks. Eventually I had tried a shot from every bottle, a quick way to learn about the hazards of mixing alcohol.
While I was half passed out and still experimenting with the drinks lined up in front of me, Abby was in the other room making phone calls to invite more people over to enjoy this little party. I’m sure she called the phone in the Orchestra room, and I’ll bet that Donnie took the call… He was the only one who showed up.
Is it possible that he planned to do these things to me? Did he see it as an opportunity? I never thought so, but now that I’m viewing the circumstances in a fresh light, I fear that may have been the case.
He walked through the door like he owned the place, went to the fridge and grabbed a pack of beers. Abby was busy on a phone call with her latest crush. Donnie sat down next to me. I was so drunk I could barely communicate but I tried to appear put together. He opened a bottle of beer and explained to me that I needed to chug it.
We each polished off two beers and then I passed out for a bit. In my drunken state, I remember him trying to make out with me on the sofa. I was unresponsive. He tried to get me to walk, but I couldn’t. Thought he was doing it to help me sober up, but I was wrong.
He picked me up and carried me into Abby’s bedroom and locked the door. I remember feeling like a ragdoll and how everything was spinning. From beneath this drunken haze I did my best to fight, and managed to squirm enough that he didn’t accomplish his objective.
Nausea set in and I began to sober a tiny bit. I lacked the physical strength to break free from under him so I tried to reason with him as best I could. My thoughts came out as mumbles so it didn’t work… But throwing up on him did, or so I thought.
Frustrated, he dragged me across the hall and tossed me into the shower. The freezing water rained down on me while I huddled in a little heap on the ground. Thinking I was free, I sobbed quietly, my tears blending with the drops of water. But he wasn’t finished.
He entered the shower and made it clear how all of this was going to play out. By then I was so exhausted that all I wanted was for it to end, and if that’s what it took to break free and find my way back home to safety, then that’s how it was going to be.
January 30th, 2005
Defense Mechanisms: They’re the behaviors we developed over the years, in our sad little attempts to protect ourselves from pain. We swallowed a big lie though, because they don’t protect us from much… Or at least not from anything worth avoiding.
I’ve realized that these defense mechanisms are my biggest enemies. They make me a prisoner and insulate me from some of the best things in life. The real path to freedom and emotional safety is in being divested of these walls I’ve built.
Some people have memory problems because they’re too busy. Others because they’re getting older. I’ve always had a problem with my memory, but for an entirely different reason…
It’s not normal for someone my age to have trouble remembering what happened yesterday but that’s what I deal with most of the time. The best way I’ve been able to describe it is as a “dark cloud” that covers my memories for a certain period of time.
Picture your life events on a timeline. I have up to a 15-year cloud that covers my memories. I lose most of the details and can only see bits and pieces. Then amazingly, many years later, the cloud vanishes and I can see clearly again, for a little while, as if for the very first time.
Now if I had a happy life, filled with heartwarming events, it would be really sad to lose those memories for so long. But that wasn’t the case for me, and that’s why this defense mechanism developed. I don’t know how to get rid of it… I don’t know if it will ever go away. I wish it would. It can be crippling at times.
On the flip side, when the cloud clears revealing painful things that happened, I get to ride an emotional rollercoaster. This past week I recalled details about the first time I remember being raped, reliving parts I had forgotten. Although painful, I appreciate the opportunity to reclassify events properly through an adult understanding.
But oh, the things I’m remembering. If I weren’t too busy, I could cry… and since hurts can only really be expressed in two ways – Sadness or Anger – I pity the fools next to me on the freeway.
January 28th, 2005
You know, amidst the crazy rush of 2004 year-end analysis at work, including a big presentation to our board of directors that I made today (went quite well, thanks for asking) you’d think I’d find entertaining stuff to write about as a departure from real-life mayhem… No such luck.
Instead, what’s burning to get out are some really serious topics. Things that make me feel vulnerable and scared. Stuff that I keep inside, stuff down, and avoid like the plague. But now they’re all clamoring to get out and I can’t think of anything else with all the noise they’re making.
Whether or not you care to hear it, there’s no use trying to write about anything else while all this weighs on my heart. I avoid making these thoughts “real” by spelling them out, but I’ll borrow courage from friends like Heroinegirl and let some out over the next few days.
January 27th, 2005
HAPPY NATIONAL COMPLIMENT DAY!
And to celebrate, tell yourself the following:
I am lovable, capable, special, and unique!
Back in elementary school, when I was still suffering emotional and physical abuse at home, there was the cutest little old black lady who came to our class and made a presentation.
She illustrated those words listed above, making sure we understood exactly what she meant by that compliment, and then made us all repeat the phrase over, and over, and over again.
Didn’t seem like much at the time, but it’s funny how little things can make a big difference… I sometimes wonder if I would have made it through as well without that thoughtful affirmation.
January 26th, 2005