When you can't find sleep

 

It is now past 4 am and sleep still hasn't come.  My mind is spinning, my heart is racing and my thoughts fast and furious.  I have all these feelings and memories that want my attention, that need to be heard.  I have cried scrolling through my phone these hours, so many stories of sadness.  I have smiled at parents taking lie detector tests with their teens.  I have been angry listening to the courts talk about a pregnant ten year old girl and rape; like she has asked for any of this.  There were stories of love and hate and desperation.  I have scrolled through them all thinking soon sleep will come.  Soon it will be my turn to close my eyes and if even for a short time things will be well with the world.   That doesn't work for me,  I can't find sleep. Because even when my eyes are closed, I am fighting , fighting. I finally get up because what is the point of laying in bed anymore.  I put my head phones on and there she is,  I hear my heart. Brilliant, deep and strong That so sad little girl who can't find sleep.  She is afraid of everything, and there is no comfort.  I felt my heart and I put my hand on my chest, I wish that so many things were different for her.  I wish that there were easy answers I wish that we didn't look forward to that time Wednesday when for a time we feel heard.  I wish that there wasn't a need to heal from things that should have been acknowledged such a long time ago.  I am looking for answers some sense of peace.  Pictures and memories that are screaming for attention and I do so wish they had an off button. That sweet girl replaying moments when she wished she could have changed the outcome.  Truth is there is nothing that could have been done. She fights, she fights all the time wondering how she can live a life that is full and happy with the things that have happened to her. She can not see past those five men and the things that they did to her. She wonders if anyone can ever love her.  Can anyone ever hold her heart and love her , can she not be seen as used goods, not as a victim but as a woman strong and brave.  She believes that lonely is a way of life for her, she believes still that somehow all that happened was her fault.  She feels like a terrible human, less than human really, she takes up to much space, to much time. She needs so much love and support.  

The memories plague her, the blades on the fan spinning so fast; repeating their names this will be the last time then they will leave only they never did. The cold of the gun, the warm of the linoleum floor thinking this all can't be happening. The sun on her face,  in such madness such evil, the sun was felt and for a moment there wasn't any hurt.  The sting of the rope. A body so damaged. The push and pull one after the other.  Their words, their laughing all like knives. I am not sure that what she is doing is even surviving. in order to survive you have to breathe. But breathing hurts. Moments sneak up on her and snap her back, those men. that time.  Alone and not a single soul that gave a damn.  She doesn't know if there will be a time that she doesn't remember so vividly the smallest of details that seem so insignificant,  but are holding such a huge space.  The fringe on the pillows, making everything neat,  she could barely walk and yet made sure everything was in place. The sound of the water bed, the water hitting the shower.  The detail on the that Curtis Mathis TV. I was hurt so badly, I paid the price for weeks and not one person cared. She was not embraced and told the things she wanted to hear most that it wasn't her fault. No one was sorry  No one gave a dam about a girl gang raped because she just wanted attention.  She replays scene after scene, every single scenario wanting to will things make them anything other than the things she remembers; she would give anything to take away the black moments in her story. 

I see my hands typing the words and can see her so little hands trying to fight all those men , trying to make them understand that she doesn't want these things.  She tries to make them believe that if they just leave, she won't tell anyone, they can just go away and it will be like they never happened.  They laugh at her,  her pleas, her begging.  They are there to shame and humiliate. She isn't a human.  They are there to kill  the light in a little girl already used beyond her years. She wanted desperately to be pretty, to laugh, to be carefree all things she would never have.  I am fighting , she is fighting but I hope the fight that is left is enough.  I know I won't let them win, but am I fighting a loosing battle ? I have cried oceans of tears and I am sure there is plenty more.  The terror in those memories is unbearable.  I must not let them win, but I am so afraid.  My heart and soul is oh so tired. 

I heart your heart.