The Courtroom

It seems that every show I watch lately has something to do with  a court room, crime, drama, the suspense , the pain and fear that that to go along with it and its breaking my heart. And in each scene, my heart wants to explode, the terror, the dread, the unknown, the pain the broken heart and the disgust all comes back and I can't even move.   I watch every little detail  because its in the little details I try to find something that I could have said something that would have made things better maybe gotten a better judgement and I freeze.  My thoughts are in that court room in Denton, or IN Boston and the world stands still.  All the people that should have would have could have but of course didn't.  It's those things that run in my mind a mile a minute.  The counselors who ignored, the people that blamed, the others who sneered in the halls.  All of those things led me to the court room to protect a little girl I didn't even know.  Because regardless of what those said or didn't say I was going to fight for someone else.   And so I did.  I am not sure that my fight was enough at times.  Sometimes it didn't feel like it was enough at all.  Not once did I ever think about myself or my needs, it was always that I wanted to keep others safe. I think my entire goal in this life is to make sure that others don't have to feel all the things that I did growing up.  And that is a burden that I have taken on but the cost to me is great.  Today at 43 I can see the cost in so many different ways, physically, emotionally mentally it still affects so much.

For my own case I remember the many many dates and appointments speaking with detectives and attorney's.  I can say that I am not sure I was present for any of it yet the little details I remember are totally etched in my brain.  I do wish that there was a way to erase them. I feel like I was the most present with Det. PLemmons because he was present with me.  He was there every second and that made a world of difference. He believed in me, listened to every word and never forgot to make sure that I was ok. I can remember the little office and being asked if anything else had happened and crying so hard about the tadpoles that I couldn't save that I couldn't catch my breadth. Sitting in that room the day before the trial and the DA asking me a specific question about the abuse and the world stopped my brother and mother were in the room and I felt smaller than small and the shame that I felt in that moment was monstrous and not one person in the room seemed to notice at all.  When I went to the courthouse a few days before and she asked me to wait outside the courtroom,  she went in then called me. There was another case going on at the time. It was at the end of the hall and I saw the window and wanted to be anywhere else. The room was dark,  and I felt the panic, a desperation that I didn't think I was going to be ok. The room was way to small to be in such close quarters with my father.  I wanted to run but I froze, I was frozen in my own skin.  The DA was speaking I couldn't tell you what she said or how I responded because what was about to happen was hitting hard and I didn't know if I could do it.  Next I remember her telling me where the elevator was and that she would see me at trial.  She didn't even walk me out.  She just showed me where I would have to tell my story with him sitting right there and she pointed me to the Elevator. There were lots of men in spify suits and big black briefcases.  They were all so busy going here and there,  and I being the queen of disassociation wasn't even there I was watching from afar, there were moments I as in my own skin but those moments were few and far between.  Everything was in slow motion, I felt like my feet were sinking in quicksand and there was no going back.  Those moments were life altering and I felt more alone than I had ever felt.

I remember all the little parts and pieces in Boston. It was cold, there was snow on the ground. Sitting in what looked like church benches, in a long Narrow hall sitting there but being so far away.  Seeing her mother in a winter coat reading a book.  Sam talking to me so very kindly and I was grateful and so also very far away.  When they called me to testify, I was terrified.  I was even worried that I wouldn't be able to remember my right from my left hand.  In my head I was going over that a million and one times knowing that I was going to screw it up.  I remember the tall defence attorney and the questions he would ask that had nothing to do with anything. Were my parents together, did I have a boyfriend, was I ever married.......I didn't understand his questioning. The ceiling was more than tall.  I do believe it was an old church building.  I can see everything in that room as if I am standing in the back as an observer.  I think that is how I got through the day.

I hope that there will come a time when I get a chance to spend a few days with someone like me someone who has gone through the system, who knows about the toll that it takes, who can understand the crimes that were committed against me, who knows the questions that get asked.  I want to be able to sit with someone and say the things in my head like how did you make it, what were your reasons what did you think about testifying how did you feel seeing his mug shot those are things that not many experience. Those are the questions that not many are able to answer.  I think I want to know that there are others who feel the things I do the anger, hurt , loneliness even at times despair because I can never get back the things that were stolen.  NEVER EVER.  And I look at all the things around me today  my amazing children, a job that I love, a house that I never imagined I would own and yet there is always a piece a burden that is SOO unrelenting, NO matter how great that things are.  That is the piece that makes me more than frustrated. I feel like this piece this boulder sometimes that is there will not become a rock until I am able to have someone who will be there even after asking the question for the 112th time, who will understand that 59999th nightmare, who can see the sad when I am trying to smile and say hey its ok its just a day you have come so far.  I want a person that is ok with those days .When I jump for the millionth time for no reason at all.  Someone who has been there and can understand and that be ok, because we are all broken I am just a little more cracked, and carry a burden that has eaten parts of my soul.  I do feel like my soul is damaged, bruised and I think that is where that absolute sadness comes from and I hope, and wish but I am not sure that sadness will ever go away.  I can say that as of yet I have not found it, but I can also say that I will never stop searching.

    I heart your heart.