Recently many circumstances have arisen that have triggered memories of my first two rapes. 16 year after the fact I feel the outrage and fierce anger at the situation. Not even at the people that raped me, but at the situation as a whole. Self-doubt has plagued me ever since, wondering if I agreed or encouraged their behaviour as I was blacked out and the details are pretty confusing. I was also a child and my assailant was not so my understanding of what I felt allowed to say yes and no to was fairly confusing, as well as my curiosity and interest in what sex was. It feels like there are so many loose ends and I feel frustrated and overwhelmed that 16 years later, closing in on half my life, I am still feeling significantly impacted.
I feel like I want to tell my story, I want to explain myself, I want someone to tell me they understand. But I am ashamed. I am afraid. I do not know if anyone wants to hear this story. I am not available to receive a reaction that does not feel validating and I'm not sure it's worth the risk. I'm also not sure it will help, but I feel so silenced and I no longer want to feel this way.
I feel the story pressing from the inside of my chest trying to fight its way out. I feel my throat constricting to keep it in, to keep me safe, to keep it tidy and clean and organized. If I am to blame, then I am in control. If it was my fault, then I can prevent it from happening again. If it is my responsibility, then perhaps I can find a sense of safety.
What I have shared has led to emotional reactions from others. These emotions are feelings that I never allowed myself to feel. My friends have expressed anger, sadness, and hurt at the bits and pieces that have slipped out of me from time to time. I see their feelings and my brain recognizes that these are my feelings on their faces because mostly I am numb. Unable to feel these feelings, but these glimpses feel both relieving and threatening. I don't know if I can handle the feelings. I don't know if I can handle the rage.
The rage is consuming. It colours everything and everyone in my immediate surroundings. It suffocates and disorients me. I feel like I want to run, but there is no where to hide. All I can do is bike as fast as I can as if I'm being chased and plunge myself into a hot bath which is the closest thing to a hug that I can give to myself.
These tried and true calming methods help, but they do not completely erase the rage fog in my brain. I am afraid that nothing can. Not time. Not friendship. Not all the self-care in the world. To be determined.
