Yes, this. I watch this and every time I feel a connection a knowing that I wish I could not understand. I watch this and I can't breathe, I can't see anything and I remember moments like that and my heart breaks. The only difference is imagine it was me, and I was 5 or 10 and 13. And then imagine that no one was there to help. NO one was there to even let you know that you were ok and that you were safe now. No one asked me what happened, or where it hurt. And people wonder why I do the things I do today. There are oh so many reasons and they are not excuses, they are not oh poor Callahan . There are truths that I have survived hell and a little more kindness a little more understanding is all that I have ever asked.
This was my life. Even though the rapes were pretty constant there are times that they were worse , times that they stuck out in my memory. That they hurt m so much. And during the times it was worse, this just this. When in my head there was no way for me to make sense. There was no way for me to get back up and pretend that everything was fine. Times that even for me I was overwhelmed and , the world stopped because I couldn't even breathe, I couldn't move and I would stay in bed waiting for the pain to stop. I wanted, the world to stop spinning and wait for me to gain some footing.I wanted to believe I was still alive and I had to keep fighting. At 5; imagine knowing these things at 5. That was my life. You don't have words to explain and the confusion is something so real . And you feel terrible because there are things that you should know but you don't. You are in a state of complete discombobulation. That.
This was me at 5. 5 little years old. The night, well the first completed rape that I remember by my father. I was tearing my tissue into a million little pieces wanting to stop crying wanting my body to stop hurting wanting someone to do something to take away, the hell. I wanted to know that I wasn't alone . I wanted someone to be there to keep me safe to tell me that it wasn't my fault that I didn't do anything wrong. I wanted someone to make me feel safe and sound in my own house in my room in my bed. That just wasn't there. The things that I thought. That I hoped I cleaned up the blood, that I wished I could have stopped crying. That I wanted him to be proud of me that I didn't tell. That I wanted to scream what happened to me, but no words were ever able to come out. I was angry at myself for waking him up and the argument that ensued in my room. I was the cause of it all. Finally being able to feel my legs again and going to the living room only to find my mother kneeling in front of my father. Feeling like she had betrayed me, why was she doing that when he had hurt me so badly. There was no way for a 5 year old to understand. But I knew what he was doing, I knew what she was doing and how does a small child understand that. So I turned around straightened my covers and wished for it all to stop.
This was me in the back of the red van my little legs shaking staring out the window not understanding why something so terrible was happening on such a beautiful day. Being able to notice the breeze in those huge trees and the weight of Albert on top of me , he was rough and didn't care what he was doing. I can remember when he was done, the smirk on his face and he told me to get dressed. My legs wouldn't move, I can just imagine what I looked like. I just wanted to get back to my little tadpoles, I remember my little wobbly legs and that I wasn't sure would carry me back to my tadpoles. They were all that mattered of coarse I made it to them only to have his big black boots crushing them telling me that next time I wouldn't fight. And me I was angry that I bit my nails and couldn't pick them up fast enough. And I can see others around and not one person stepped up not one person told me that it was ok. Not one person told me that I was something lovable and worthy. I fought. I fought for my life and those little tadpoles.
This was me, When I was 13 and was raped by 5 men for hours, and hours and nothing in the world made sense. I knew what rape was at this point I knew what to do and what to expect but this was everything overwhelming , unimaginable . I wasn't even a person , I wasn't a living breathing little girl I was something to be used to make them happy . I was a body to be broken. I was a body to be laughed at, torn apart and my soul crushed. There was not an understanding of what had happened to me. I was in and out of even being conscience. I had come to believe that this was my life you just fix things live through them and keep moving even when nothing is ok. I was cracking and no one saw the despair, no one saw the bruises the atrociousness of the things that happened to me that day. There are pieces of that day I will never know and for that I am grateful because the things I do know are as haunting as they come. When they finally left and I fixed the fringe on the rug and placed the pillows where they went there was just me to pick up the pieces of my body, my heat and soul and try to be. Try to just be a 13 year old girl again. Because after that , there is no going back. As much as I tried there was no ever going back to the girl I was before. I watch and he doesn't even know whose blood is on his skin and and he can't speak and that is how I have felt so many times in this life trying to make it through . Trying to survive the unsurvivable. When guns are in your mouth, in your body and that fear is so huge and the only thing that makes sense is please pull the trigger Kill me because I don't know how to live with this., Or after this . I don't know how to live through this.
I watch this video and think If someone was there and saw me if just someone could have said its ok. Your safe now.
I heart your heart.
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