I am overwhelmed. I am afraid and I am in over my head. Sometimes I wish that I could just keep everything quiet, keep it all inside smile and pretend to be fine. I fear seeing the things that made 13 year old close her eyes and shut off the world. I am more than afraid that somehow saving her is going to be the end of me. The things that I am hiding are terrifying. I am afraid that I can't get my head around the things she has survived. Somehow with Callahan behind the wall, she is safe, but there is also a safety for me. Because she is the one there in the dark that experiences all of those unimaginable things. I have yet to wrap my head around the all too real fact that I am on the other side of the wall too and I have experienced those same things. That makes me speech-less and I think how terrifying; because it feels like its going to be the end of me. Yet she is there with it 24 hours a day 7 days a week 365 days a year because she believes that is what she is good for, she thinks that if she just holds on things can't get any worse so she just holds on to what she knows and nothing else bad can happen. What a way to live in this world. Damned if you do and damned if you don't. Either way she can't see the light yet, that I am so desperately trying to show her.
I wish there were words to explain all that is in My head. Its an overwhelming darkness that seeps into everything. Every thought, every movement every reaction so affected that even breathing hurts sometimes. There are stories inside screaming to get out, but I don't know how. They are all playing out, and I wake up in the morning in such great pain. It feels so crazy making. I am angry at how things were handled. I am angry, that I was wasn't believed and kept safe. I am overly over-whelmed that not one person stood up for me took me in their arms and said they were so sorry. Not one person ever even told others that the treatment I was receiving was not ok, and that they should be doing more. Instead Callahan kept going, the clean up specialist, make things look pretty; fix the fringe pretend that you are not hurting. Cover up the bleeding and the bruising; as you hear every ones words that you are lying and wanted attention. That is how I lived my life. As hard as it would be I wanted nothing more than someone to ask me what happened, I wanted nothing more than to not have to be so strong. I wanted nothing more than someone being close and telling me that no matter what happened , they were going anywhere and would stay and help.
I wanted and needed someone to be an adult and take care of me. I wanted them to notice, and to do the right things. I wanted someone to explain to me what needed to happen and why. I needed someone to be strong, and let me fall apart a little. I needed help, I needed support. I needed medical attention and everyone was far too concerned for themselves.
I keep replaying things in my head, how and when things happened, trying to fit the pieces together, There was so much that a 13 year old doesn't even know yet. Things you don't know could happen and things that are too overwhelming to comprehend in a 13 year old mind. Time seems foreign when you go to sleep being afraid and wake up being just as afraid. You close your eyes hoping to survive and open them also hoping to survive.
I was already a mess, I was sadder than sad because of my father; I was shy and with drawn. I wanted to save the world. I wanted to make sure that not one person ever had to feel the things that were my everyday. I was different, I saw the world around me in ways that I can't explain yet. I always believed no one wanted to be my friend because of the things I had to do. He was cruel all the time, I knew that I wasn't much liked, I took to much time. I don't believe there was a single ounce of love for me in his body. He said I was a bitch, he said I took attention from him. He never really saw who I was, or cared really. I don't think he liked being my dad. I was nothing special to him.
My parents response to me being withdrawn and sad was to send their overly mature daughter to the church youth group, that was going to fix everything. It did not. I was not mature enough and was so different from them. I was in 7th grade when I started youth group and most of them were juniors and seniors. I think I was a Freshman when I stopped going. This was never the place for me, I always knew that. I asked to many questions and longed for more answers, more kindness and acceptance. I had lived more life in my short years than all of them combined. We were so different in so many ways.
It was celebrate 88, I had gotten to know a few of the kids in youth group, I didn't belong there but the break from my house was welcomed. I could laugh with out worrying I was to loud. I could pretend to be cool and welcomed even though I knew I wasn't. I can remember sitting in the living room listening to the top ten songs of the day and this girl said that I was really pretty. I am sure I looked all around , she surely couldn't have been talking about me. I wish I knew what she saw. I watched everything, I was in awe that they just were. They were stupid, they laughed, the listened to music, they had a life that I should have had. They had relationships with each other, that I just didn't understand. There was always a piece of me that never fit in anywhere. And so came Celebrate 88 that church weekend held at a college. I wasn't old enough, and I keep hearing them say, well it's ok, she is so mature. I think there was a part of me that was excited being included. I even volunteered to dance; in front of everyone. I just for once wanted to be normal. I wanted to fit in even though I felt like an outsider. I just wanted to laugh and be carefree like them.
So that weekend I danced, I danced and felt free. I danced in front of everyone that was there that weekend. My shorts came up showing my underwear, I was devastated, to everyone it was no big deal to me it was awful and shameful like somehow I was like look at me look at me. I felt exposed, sluttish and stupid. But I did it, I think that was one of the only carefree kid like things I did in my whole small life. Once every group did their little skit, there was a big dance. I loved music and dancing, and I danced. Most of the time everyone just danced in groups, everyone together. There were a few that I tried to dance with and they wanted nothing to do with me. Then I danced with Don. I laughed, and I had butterflies and I think for a short time I felt normal. I felt like he saw me and I mattered. I wish I remembered what we talked about, but I don't have a clue. He had nice teeth, like somehow that mattered. It was getting later, he gave me a hug and said we would see each other around. I was over the moon, I can remember everyone sleeping on the gym floor and I just stared at the ceiling not believing the night that I had. I think I truly had fun. There wasn't a care in the world. I saw him in passing a few times on Saturday, then Sunday at church, he was one of the alter guys he saw me, smiled and winked. That I was even noticed, was really cool; I wondered if that wink was for me ? I can remember standing there my heart beating so fast, my hands sweating, looking around, surely he wouldn't say hello to me, notice me, but he did. I think I watched him the entire mass. He was cute, he was older, he was kind and paid attention to me. After church he found me and we talked for a long time, another conversation I wished I remembered. We were, well I was quite the flirt. And we kissed goodbye and he said that he would see me again. I felt lighter than air. I am pretty sure my face hurt from smiling. My father always kissed me terrible and I hated it. Charlie stole a kiss in the backyard one Summer day which was gross because he ate crickets. Then there was Don. He was gentle, totally different from the forceful kissing that I knew. I wanted to kiss him and kissed him back and I am sure there will be a piece of me that will forever regret that moment. Somewhere in my head that became an invitation.
Somewhere in that once I told, and the question was asked where I met him. I wasn't believed and people said we didn't see you dancing with anyone. Which is kind of funny because I was never ever noticed at all for anything. Oh that's right, no one would even want to dance with me, Right?! I was that repulsive 13 year old. How in that hell did I ever survive in their world. What was their thinking in treating me like i had done something so terribly wrong. That is a heart heavy that doesn't go away.
Things often get blurry here, and as much as I hate that, I am not sure there is any other way to explain than to share the pieces that I have. It was months later, because it was the night of the Valentines dance at school. Why did so many months past.....somehow in my head it was different. I was in eighth grade. There was a knock on the door, this was back in the time I wasn't afraid to answer it. I opened it and saw Don, I was shocked and excited. It had been so long. But seeing him; there were those butterflies again, and I gave him a hug. Something this time was different. I don't know if it was a look, or a feeling but I stepped back, he had flowers red roses and he came right in, I can see his lips talking and my head spinning I was confused. The nice guy that kissed me so gentle was gone. He was rough, he didn't want to hear me and he pushed me down right there in the entry way. He was kissing me but nothing like that sweet kiss from that weekend. He closed the door behind him and the nightmare began. I remember the brown tiles, the design, the floor was so cold. I was trying so hard to understand. I told him no over and over, he didn't listen. He ripped up my shirt, and took off my pants. I was helpless. He was so mean, he didn't care that he was hurting me, he didn't see me as a person. He was so rough, pulling at me, it seemed the more that I fought, the rougher that he got. I was in shock, telling him that I wouldn't tell he could leave and I would never say a thing. He didn't care. He took what he wanted, I was hurt. I can remember grabbing my clothes trying to collect myself. I could not believe what had happened. My mind was spinning. This must be what I am good for. A million why's running through my mind He was in the living room. He was smiling he didn't care. He started kissing me again, saying the most awful things laughing and then he left. I never skipped a beat, never said a word. These were the things that happened to me. So you clean up and get on with life. That was Saturday night and I went to school that Monday and did all the things I was supposed to do silently in my own world never telling a soul.
The very first time that I ever talked about this openly I was in my 20's. I was asked how long he was there. Tears rolling down my face, I said that I didn't know it felt like a very long time. The woman laughed swung her crossed legs and said well sex doesn't take that long and she laughed; she laughed at me. My heart sank, once again I wished that I never said a word, never talked about it. How long he was there, like that made a difference. I am sorry I forgot to check the time as he pushed his way into my home, pushed me down, tore my clothes and hurt me. That was from a counselor, I was devastated. And instead of being angry. Instead of standing up for myself I beat myself up for things I couldn't have known. I was 13. I beat myself up for not knowing how long a rape was supposed to take. I took her words in and thought I had done something wrong, I did something it was my fault. I kissed him. And what an idiot I didn't know how long he was there hurting me.
I wish I could tell you how much later that he came again but I can't because I don't remember. I think when rape is a constant in your life, as terrible as it is, they all run together. Big things are remembered sometimes, little things other times; but a clear time frame is something that I just can't give you. So it was a few weeks later when Don showed up again. I was in the shower it was early morning, the sun just rising my parents at another healing weekend for the church. I was left alone. Not even a friend to stay with. I am sure that I was singing; I was always singing, my boom box as loud as it could go. My music got shut off. I looked out of the shower curtain and there Stood Don. I froze, I was in complete shock, the nice guy that I had met at celebrate 88 was gone, his eyes were cold. I grabbed the shower curtain so tight . I pinched my legs thinking this must be some kind of nightmare. I am sure that my mind was going in a million different directions trying to understand and come up with some plan of escape. He had this smirk on his face, he liked that I was so afraid; I knew he had a plan. He said some awful things and took his clothes off. I started to cry right away, I was begging him not to do this. I wanted him to know that I never told anyone about the first time, and he could leave and everything would be fine. He kept undressing and got in the shower. I begged and pleaded, there was no use. This was the first rape of the day. When he was done, he just got out of the shower like it was nothing. I stayed there until the water ran cold and I was brave enough to grab a towel. When I got out of the bathroom, he was there in my parents room sitting in that old rust colored chair in the corner. He was calm and cool like he had done nothing wrong. I starting crying again I couldn't understand why he was still there. He threw me on my parents water bed, tied my hands behind my back another rape, he did things I will never understand that I didn't even know could happen. He said the most awful vile things, and he laughed he liked what he was doing, my pleading and cries only made it worse. I didn't understand why he wasn't leaving. And the phone call, I remember hearing him saying that I was a fighter and laughing, that this was going to be a good day. That laugh, and realizing there was no escape. I was in and out of the blackness, my hands were still tied . When I opened my eyes again there were 4 more men in the room. I was embarrassed and ashamed, I was no longer human. I was a body, naked an exposed. I was parts and pieces for them to take and destroy. I had no idea the hell that I would survive that day. They stayed well into the night, again I don't know how long, all I knew is that I wanted them to finish me off just use the gun you have pointed at my head and kill me please, because I can't live through this. I can't live after what has been done. I can never face another human. I could never give words to the terror. I was in and out of the blackness saying their names with each turn laying there under the fan thinking each turn would be the last. It never was. Turns in the living room, turns in the other rooms. Turn after turn after turn. I can remember once I ended up laying by the back door and I can remember feeling the sun of my face, that warmth in all that hell, I was so cold and so afraid. It was dark outside and they finally left, there was some kindness from Andy and for that I am grateful he was the only reason I survived that day. I believe that with my whole heart . They all took a last turn, made their last insults and they left. So many hours, there was nothing left of me. Everything hurt so badly, I am not sure how I was able to move. Physically I was a mess, there was so much pain and so much blood, but I was the clean up specialist. I don't know how I was able to do anything. I collected and washed the blankets. Made everything straight, fixed the fringe and the blankets I was on automatic. I can remember fixing everything and getting into my bed and even the sheet hurt my skin. There wasn't an inch of my body that wasn't brutalized, and I believed I had asked for this. I had danced with Don I had kissed him. This was all my fault.
It was a few weeks later I found out that I had gotten pregnant. I remember taking the test and there was a part of me that believed I was going to give my sweet baby all the love and protection that I never had. I was living in some kind of fairy tale world, but that world kept me going.
I had bruises for weeks, everyday things were more than difficult just because of what had happened. walking was a chore, sitting was brutal and trying to learn in school close to impossible. My mind was on auto pilot, I had known rape since I was 5, I kept trying to tell myself this was no different. So many things during this time I didn't understand and don't remember. I think that is a good thing. There was little sleep and the ulcers started. There was constant headaches and the scratching and bruising started at night. I was silently falling apart and living in a world where I was going to be a mom and make everything ok. Oh my thinking, my little brain trying to deal with things it was never meant for. I don't understand and I managed to keep everything together going to school doing all the things I was supposed to. But all the while I was dying inside , I was drowning and no one seemed to care.
Then a few weeks later Don showed up at my door again, I was terrified. I knew that there was no fight left. I knew that there was no way I was going to win. I knew that nothing I was going to do was going to make a difference. So I unbuttoned my pants and I laid down. I knew he was going to take what he wanted and there was no fight left. I felt like the walking dead almost, I was nothing just a shell of a human. So I just with no reaction no emotion, not thought I undid my pants and laid down. His words and actions as awful as ever, but he didn't know what to do that I wasn't fighting or crying. He finished, got up and left. That was the last time that he physically hurt hurt me.
I wasn't ok. And things get blurry and there are parts I can't remember , there are still parts of my story that feel like someone else, surely this can't be my story. I feel like I have things wrong, that I don't remember them correctly, there are parts that don't make sense. It was a few days after the last rape that Calvin noticed that I wasn't ok. He said that I had to talk to him. And finally I did. I told him what had happened. I remember him being angry, and I apologized to him. But he said that he was angry at what happened to me not at me. That was new, someone was angry at what happened to me ? I remember him asking me about being pregnant, I said that I didn't know. He said that I had to tell someone. That this wasn't ok and people could not hurt me like this. I was terrified. I wanted so much to tell people so I didn't have to carry it alone, and yet I had so many secrets in short life I had no idea how this was going to turn out. At least in my silence I could live in a sort of fairy tale. Once people knew my world would once again be smashed into even smaller pieces and I would be made out to be an attention seeking liar because why would anyone do those things to me. Calvin said that these things could not keep happening and I had to tell. I thought the youth group leader would be on my side. She was not.
I remember talking very little, telling people only what they asked, and that wasn't much. Joan's first comment was that we should get a pregnancy test; I was not believed. I was met with doubt and self preservation. I wasn't crying enough, I only wanted attention, I was the chubby unpopular girl no one wanted to do that to me. Words were said to me and about me that I will never forget. I told and was not met with care and compassion I was not taken care of physically or emotionally. Not one person that was there that night, held me and let me fall apart. I was living in a world where I was an outlier; everyone had an opinion and were trying to save themselves from any responsibility. Me I was alone ,barely breathing. The only thing that kept me going was my Bella and even then I couldn't keep her alive. I was not cared for. I missed two days of school. One day we went to Dr. Culpepper and the other we went to the rape crisis center. After a few days it was never spoken of again. Not a mention, no locks were changed because I was told I left it unlocked it didn't look like anyone broke in. No one ever spoke to me about it ever again or since. I was expected to go on as if my life was not destroyed and changed in ways I still don't understand.
I still lived in a fairy tale world. Bella was growing and I can remember feeling her kick. I can remember taking Calvin's hand and letting him feel. I am not sure how he never told anyone ? Yet another piece that doesn't fit in. I was just 13, there was so much to understand. I was so nieve and clueless. How in the world would she be safe in a home with my father and abuse still happening.
My fairy tale that kept me alive, keep me breathing was over. I wanted the world to end; I lost Bella. I remember bleeding calling Calvin and being in the hospital, I remember everything being so white and the Dr telling me I had lost her. I screamed and begged him to tell me she was fine. There were people standing in the room, I don't know who they were. It was years and years later in my 20's when I mentioned my pregnancy and my Dr said it sounded as if I was around 18-20 weeks. There is so little to tell of that time, so little that I remember so few details. Someone had to know living through that as a 13 year old is unimaginable. I was devastated. I never got the chance to talk about her, she never mattered to anyone. I don't know what happened after I lost her. So from Summer of 88 to the following Summer. I was raped, gang raped, just let him hurt me and lost my baby. I had lost everything and wanted to Die. I never spoke about any of this for so long and have spoken very little of this time; every time that I did I was met with harsh words and disbelief. Its still surreal that I am living and breathing today. It's easier seeing all of this as happening to that 13 year old than thinking it was me. I do not understand that I wasn't cared for and believed. Even if they thought I was lying get me help, they soon would have found out I was telling the truth and they could have helped me. Someone could have done something, someone could have helped me.
So many people failed me and that is a weight that is heavier than you can imagine. Every single person let me down and judged me and called me names. Every person saw what they wanted and ignored the rest. I have never been able to just sit with all that happened during that time and be sad and express all the things that are held so tightly in my heart. I should have died . Things happened to me and I just had to move on, with no help no resources no one to take care of my heart. It is a terrible thing to learn at 13 that suffering is just a part of her life. Not only was I was hurt beyond belief by the men who killed a part of me, I was more than hurt by those that I reached out to for help. Things said, and fingers pointed at a 13 year girl who didn't even yet understand the world.
Today I am working more than hard trying to make all these pieces fit into some kind of sense. I think I can understand the disbelief, because there are days I doubt myself. How does this happen and no adult do their job. How does this happen and I just keep moving forward. I am so sad that so many people failed to take care of me, and do their job. There is still a huge part of me that believes those words of disbelief. Maybe they were right. I couldn't show any more emotion, I didn't have many words. But only because there was no emotion left. My fight was gone. I didn't even have the words to describe all that had happened to me. I got an email that was titled the lonely I was hiding was heavy, and I felt that. The lonely, the terror, the unimaginable of what I have been hiding for so many years is beyond words. So today I fight trying to be gentle with myself and find the words that I have never had, because it is just to big. It happened. It happened to me and little callahan and 13 year old Callahan and it really hurt me. All those things that happened still hurt me today.
I heart your heart.
