I don’t know what I want to say tonight, but I know it is important. I’ll just ramble, and you can stop reading whenever you feel the need… Maybe I’ll finish writing and I will decide not to publish, or maybe I will publish and delete it at a later date. For now, let’s just get it said.
It has been a tough few weeks. It’s probably fair to say that they have been the toughest weeks I have known, and they seem to have lasted forever. Three weeks ago, I was raped. Three weeks ago, a man I thought was my friend stayed in my house as he has done many times over the last few years, and made the decision to take advantage of me while I slept. I woke to a world that wasn’t the same anymore. I woke to a world without trust.
I crumbled that day. All of a sudden the belief I’ve always held on to that the people of this world are mostly good seemed like a joke. The person I always believed I was didn’t exist; I wasn’t strong, I wasn’t capable and I didn’t have faith in anyone or anything.
A lot of the time that has passed between now and then seems like a blur, a never-ending nightmare of tears and sleepless nights and uselessness. I try to occupy my mind in a million different ways, some of which I’ve written about, but nothing seems to work for any length of time. I speak to people, because I know I would go crazy if I didn’t and, even through the fog, I know that this can’t be my fault. I’ve heard the words they say, I’ve heard them tell me to take my time, and reassure me that I will get through the nightmare and find myself again, but I haven’t believed it. It has all felt so hopeless.
I have stayed up all night, unable to sleep, surviving on an hour or so here and there. I’ve barely known what day it is most of the time. A week ago, the panic attacks started. I try to do something, anything, and my lungs feel like they are shutting off, and I shake and sweat and cry. Useless, just useless.
This past week I have woken from snatched hours of sleep, wishing I hadn’t woken. I have stayed in my room with my eyes closed, wishing the world would disappear. I have spent hours at a time thinking of the ways I could close my eyes forever, and listing all the reasons there are to make myself disappear. But I have still spoken to people.
These people have kept me talking. They’ve kept me with them, they’ve made me hold on. One person says goodbye and another one appears to take their place. I feel as if they’re running a tag team… Online, on the phone, in my house, there has always been someone there. Someone to tell me I’m needed and loved and cherished. Someone to tell me I can do this, every time I say ‘It’s too hard’. And it is hard. It is harder than anything I have ever done. I have never felt so low, and I have never felt so pathetic, and I have never wished myself dead repeatedly, until now. I have never had this kind of support either; then again, I never needed it.
It has overwhelmed me, and amazed me, and irritated me to the point of snapping. There have been times that I have told them to leave me alone, and times that I have been angry at them for not letting me make the decision I wanted to make, and times I have wanted to scream at them. Today I took drastic action to get some time alone… I locked my minder in my room, and I went downstairs. For an hour and a half, I stayed down there. And yes, I laughed. It was so ridiculous, the lengths I had to go to just to be alone.
But as I sat there on my own, I realised that I never am alone, not really. Because there are these people out there who WILL always be there when I need them. There must be a reason for that, right? They must see something worth saving, so why can’t I? I am so glad to have them, so glad to be reminded that my view has just been distorted.
It isn’t over. There’s still some way to go, still an awful lot of healing to do. But tonight I’m ready to start the fight again.