Getting Real.

I want to get real. It isn’t like I haven’t been real or honest but as much as I have shared there is as much that I haven’t. Three months ago I felt something shift in me. I had just moved to a new place. People I had never met, a place as far from home as I could get and still be in the states. It was freeing and it was wonderful to be so far away. I think maybe I had thought being so far away would give me a release. I hadn’t realized how I had imprisoned myself the past few years. Being in this new environment I think subconsciously I had let myself go and let myself be me. That scared me. Me, is not something I have been in a long time.

Rape. What do you instantly think of when you hear or see that word? I envision violence. You? I don’t even like the word rape. I always say sexual assault. My vision is wrong. It is this feeling of immense weight and pressure upon someone helpless. The pressure of unwanted advances or the weight of someone unwillingly forcing you to move and feel things they do not want to be feeling. The way it feels is so different then you can imagine. Sweat and saliva falling onto my face, my chest. The things I felt because I could not will myself to open my eyes. If I could just keep them closed and move to the rhythm of his body maybe this isn’t what it started out to be? Your mind races so fast, thinking of so many scenarios to make this a right one. If I could explain the pressure I would! It’s immense and not in the way you are probably thinking. Its the racing thoughts, thinking of your next to move like what happens next?  Is this even what it was? Did this just happen? I am ok? I am ok. No physical indications of this ‘incident’. It’s my fault. I did this. This happened because I am who I am, I look the way I look and I encouraged this kind of attention. There is nothing that can make this right or dare I say wrong? Feeling as if I could only find this inner strength to move in a superhuman feat to move in a way you never thought you could. I failed to find this super strength and that would be fail #1. So my feeling ended there, in seconds. It only took seconds for my body to realize this was a useless feat to attempt to pull off and to go away. It just went and for the past 3 and half years, it has stayed away. Stayed away as in; CIA top secret, back of my mind in a small locked box put away. I don’t go there and if I do or someone else does I have found many ways to skirt around the topic. It has been almost too easy to place the blame on myself for being alone, drinking(one drink)alone, and for accepting a drink bought by a stranger. Then weeks after it happened and I found myself pregnant, the only thing I I could think was “fuck, this does not happen in real life”…no really, it was really the only thing that came to mind. Once again, this leads into many scenarios. Do I tell people what happened? because at this point, my reality of this part of my life was brief and shattered into many pieces of which I could not place into chronological order as if it was once a mirror and then shattered. Ya, you go ahead and try to put those pieces back together, impossible. There were no words I could say or use to describe what happened. It’s only been 3.5yrs. I can’t imagine what another 10, 20, 30 yrs will shed light on this experience for me. The past three weeks have been so depressing and that weight…I feel it. I wake up in the middle of the night and that instant panic of pressure surrounds me. It is suffocating. It is a ball and chain. As I sit here and write this, there is this inner fearlessness and will to stand up to this challenge but when push comes to shove I will crumble in an instant. It is sad, deafening and leaves me incredibly useless throughout the day. I am so close to graduation I can taste it but yet another 9 months in this place seems just, heavy. I yearn for the day I can leave here. 

Despite that experience in my life…the best thing to ever happen to me was born. I know it seems ridiculous, crazy and I should not put this on someone else but I am not, Asher saved my life. He is what gets me through every day. He did not ask for this. He has no concept of any of this.  He is pure innocence and that is what gets me through every minute, every day, graduation and I know at some point I am going to have to find something else to get me through everyday but for now…it is him. And for what little threads I am grasping at I will take this rope, willingly.

This is no longer a repression but a revelation. No more.

 

 


2 responses to “Getting Real.

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