I am trying to find the right words for people to understand the cost of being seen, of what it feels to be in my own skin. Being seen, is something that I avoid at any cost. NO movement no attention , is something that is in my bones that I am sure was one of the first things that I learned in life. Don't look pretty, don't wear make up . Always wear pants because that makes it more difficult for people to get to you. Don't be seen don't make a noise, in my house it was kind of a privilege just to breathe. Stop and think what that means to a little one?? A little girl of 5 ?Most little ones crave attention, most little ones make noise because that is what little ones do as they make their way in the world. I think of that little kid repeatedly calling their parents, mom mom mom mom mom a million times a day but that is something that I never did. I never called out when I was scared, when I needed help or if i had something to share. I mean the monster lived in my house who was going to save me? Who was going to help me take care of my little heart ?? There was no one. I was never allowed to make my way; find where it was that I belonged in the world. I was never good for anything, I never felt like I was important and I never had a place where I could just be. I had no place in school, I was the kid always looking in and not really belonging. I didn't belong in my own family. Friends was something that other people had, I was mostly a loner, there was always that feeling that I just was in the way. I was a little girl to be seen, smile and do what I was told; Without making any problems for anyone, this was to be done at any cost to my little heart. I never got to be a little girl that believed in unicorns and prince charming. I never got to be that little girl with out a care in the world. I never had the chance to believe the world was mine and that I could do anything. My world was a cruel place where I was on my own, there wasn't support and encouragement. There were no heroes that were coming to save me. I watched TV hoping that maybe one of those heroes would come and make everything OK. I can remember watching the incredible hulk thinking wow if he came to my city and saw me, he would notice and take me away. I would watch wonder woman thinking if I could just spin fast enough and have that power, I would be able to get the bad guy and be beautiful again. I can remember watching highway to heaven and thinking if they could just see me they would help and I could find my happy. So clearly I remember those thoughts, wanting these fictional characters to swoop in and save me from my house on Rearn Dr. Someone anyone that might see me as a little girl and want to help. As I grew older being seen was a given and so much harder to avoid. As I matured , I hated so much being a girl. There was no way that my chest wasn't noticed, and I hated it. I so hated being a girl, we had terrible jobs to do that made me feel so foreign, so different. I knew that I had to do things that other girls would never understand. I took my body maturing as a sign that I was doing something wrong, somehow inviting touching and hurting. The attention that my body got was my fault, I thought make yourself even uglier so no one will want you. Everything that happened was my fault if I didn't have a chest they wouldn't have touched me. If I just wasn't a girl, they would not have hurt me. I hated being mature, I hated the body that I was in and the parts and pieces more than I can put it into words.
Today I am struggling with wanting to be in my own skin and trying to figure out what that means for me. Sometimes even the most gentle touch hurts, it physically hurts and its something I struggle to explain. The smallest of touches sometimes makes me want to curl up in a ball, sometimes even makes me want to scream and run like I have never run before. Sometimes the smallest of touches feels like a 10,000 pound boulder. Sometimes the weight of a touch is beyond any words that I might have. I dream of just being in my skin and feeling comfortable and safe and what that might feel like. I dream of not feeling hands, and reliving memories where my body was used and I meant nothing. I was literally the means to an end, no matter the cost. I dream of understanding times when my body will have a feeling and I have no clue what it is or why I am having it. The fear that often comes from those feelings is so intense and beyond my understanding. There are times my back or hip will hurt with no reason, but I get this sinking feeling and feel frustrated and that sadness appears from nowhere and I don't have any words. There are times I wake up and my legs are asleep. I literally can not feel them. There are times I wake up and can still feel their weight holding me down. Their are times that I gasp remembering those times I couldn't breathe. There are times even sitting in a hot bath, its the water temperature and literally, I can feel myself going far away as the blackness closes in. Sometimes I am able to realize it and move, which gets me out of the blackness. Other times the darkness takes over and I end up with very cold water. I learned oh so early, that being in my skin was terrifying and I found a way to go on mostly without being aware of my body. I had to after a night of rapes, I still had to get up and go to school the next day. I survived all the things that were done, all the times of evilness even when I wasn't sure that I would. When my body hurt and the tears wouldn't stop. When my body was touched and I flew far away. My skin is embarrassing and gross. My body was never something private and sacred. It was to be used, my body was made to do adult things from my earliest memories that made me so much less than all the other little innocent girls that I would see. There were times on the playground, I would see girls being comfortable in their skin, I can't even explain how I knew but they were not embarrassed about who they were and that was baffling to me. When people were unaware of what was around them, I would be confused; I was never afforded that luxury. When people would dance and laugh without a care in the world, those were things I never understood. I feel that there were times when I was seen and no one stepped up anyway and I always took that to mean I was of no value and had no worth. If I was worthy of love and good things surely someone would have done the right thing. Only those people were never people in my life as a little. It would be well into adulthood before anyone choose to stay and help my little soul.
There have been times I thought being seen was OK and I have reached out only to continue drowning. I learned fast its better to live with things than reach out. Either I was invalidated, told I was taking to much time, told I was overreacting or making a big deal out of nothing. Told that the only answer for me was church and religion. None of those are things were the problem or a solution that would have helped this heart of mine.I wish that there was a way to explain that when a person reaches out there is a reason. I would never reach out if I knew if was something I could handle on my own. For most of my life I can tell you, I handled everything ! I did it all, so the times that I did reach out for fear that I was unable to tread water anymore and those people looked the other way, those times change a person and create a wound so deep that there is no recovery. I have a few of those wounds and they will never ever go away. I am one of the lucky ones that even with all those that looked away and left me drowning;I never stopped reaching out and have found a few that have refused to look the other way. As grateful as I am for those people there are still times I think, I am just too much. If they walk away, I understand; It was my fault, I was just too much. I was too much I said too much, my story was too much, my pain was too much my suffering was too much. I was to much of this or that and I made them go away.
Oh Yes I have been seen, I have been stared at and laughed at. There have been more onlookers in my life that I can put a name too. I have been brutally broken and people have looked the other way. I have been brave and taken a stand and people have looked the other way. I have suffered greatly by those that have seen and instead of doing the hard thing blamed and ridiculed a child. The things that have been said to me, that often still repeat in my head, are things that I would not wish on anyone. The things like I just wanted attention, who would want to do that to me, I must be lying we should get a pregnancy test. Questions were asked with not one caring response. Counselors asked questions about the number of assailants; I answered the question 5 then was offered no support, no reassurance. Questions were asked about the amount of time they were hurting me with a giggle, no comfort was offered. Nights when the pain was so intense that I turned a tissue into nothing, yet again no comfort was given and I felt like the smallest speck of dirt under her shoe. So you see I have been seen my entire life and always left to pick up those pieces alone. I think that being gang raped added another level to my fear of being seen. I was the one that danced in front of others; in front of the entire gym. Therefore being seen and Don coming to my house was something I invited, I put my self out there. When someone can stand there and watch what is happening then join there is a different level of pain and humiliation. There is a level of embarrassment that I have yet to understand and talk about. When someone is degrading you at a core level and someone can look directly into your eyes with nothing, a part of a person dies. I think there are parts of me that have died. There is a level of disgust that during that day, there were times that were so unimaginable that I can not tell you who did what to me. it was the same on Aug 22 2003. I went so far away there was not a feeling bone in my body. I went to a place that was dark, cold and far far away. I feel like the more questions that were asked, the more I was seen the more that I was alone. Being seen is an invitation somewhere in my mind to be hurt and that is the last thing that I ever want in this world.
This is just the beginning trying to understanding :being in my own skin, being seen and just how terrifying that is for my heart. It's terrifying even focusing on my breathing. Something that is so life giving that is so unimaginable in many places in my head. Being aware of each breathe that I take there is a sense of being seen that is horrifying . I believe that there were times I was aware for mere survival and that was the thing that kept me focused. Kind of like one foot in front of the other I was reminded one breathe now another now another. Once there was the fan, I kept repeating their names over and over thinking each time would be their last. I am so far away from my arms, my legs my back my belly, my arms, every part of me . I feel like this shell is beyond damaged, even sometimes beyond repair. I am so far from all of my parts sometimes I wonder how I manage. I can write an entire list of things that bring darkness to my mind when all things stopped for me . Seeing a red van, laying on my back, having someone touch my neck or my hips. I panic when I am unable to get through or am restrained in any way. If there are 5 men I think about what must be done to escape and I shut off going on auto pilot. There are times a shower is a time machine and I back at 13 too terrified to move. Men with no shirts. And the list goes on sometimes there are things, images, feelings and even smells and I freeze and I don't even have a clue why. There are mornings that I wake up and my skin feels dirty and touched and no matter what I do there is no way to shake that feeling. Only time, only in time I am able to come back to the land of the here and now. So much that is attached to being seen. So much that is attached to the skin that I live in. I dream of the day when I can stand in my skin comfortable, proud and safe without that fear of being seen and taken advantage of.
That is what I am working towards. Someday. Someday. Someday.
I heart your heart.
Today I am struggling with wanting to be in my own skin and trying to figure out what that means for me. Sometimes even the most gentle touch hurts, it physically hurts and its something I struggle to explain. The smallest of touches sometimes makes me want to curl up in a ball, sometimes even makes me want to scream and run like I have never run before. Sometimes the smallest of touches feels like a 10,000 pound boulder. Sometimes the weight of a touch is beyond any words that I might have. I dream of just being in my skin and feeling comfortable and safe and what that might feel like. I dream of not feeling hands, and reliving memories where my body was used and I meant nothing. I was literally the means to an end, no matter the cost. I dream of understanding times when my body will have a feeling and I have no clue what it is or why I am having it. The fear that often comes from those feelings is so intense and beyond my understanding. There are times my back or hip will hurt with no reason, but I get this sinking feeling and feel frustrated and that sadness appears from nowhere and I don't have any words. There are times I wake up and my legs are asleep. I literally can not feel them. There are times I wake up and can still feel their weight holding me down. Their are times that I gasp remembering those times I couldn't breathe. There are times even sitting in a hot bath, its the water temperature and literally, I can feel myself going far away as the blackness closes in. Sometimes I am able to realize it and move, which gets me out of the blackness. Other times the darkness takes over and I end up with very cold water. I learned oh so early, that being in my skin was terrifying and I found a way to go on mostly without being aware of my body. I had to after a night of rapes, I still had to get up and go to school the next day. I survived all the things that were done, all the times of evilness even when I wasn't sure that I would. When my body hurt and the tears wouldn't stop. When my body was touched and I flew far away. My skin is embarrassing and gross. My body was never something private and sacred. It was to be used, my body was made to do adult things from my earliest memories that made me so much less than all the other little innocent girls that I would see. There were times on the playground, I would see girls being comfortable in their skin, I can't even explain how I knew but they were not embarrassed about who they were and that was baffling to me. When people were unaware of what was around them, I would be confused; I was never afforded that luxury. When people would dance and laugh without a care in the world, those were things I never understood. I feel that there were times when I was seen and no one stepped up anyway and I always took that to mean I was of no value and had no worth. If I was worthy of love and good things surely someone would have done the right thing. Only those people were never people in my life as a little. It would be well into adulthood before anyone choose to stay and help my little soul.
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