This is a hard one. There are so many independent pieces that I struggle with, that don't fit just right; ANYWHERE. When I think about this time, I was a mere 13 years old. Just 13 years, just a girl. Just a girl carrying things that she should never have had to carry on her own. There are pieces of her that are locked away in my mind, too violent to unimaginable. There are other pieces that are just unknown and still other pieces that are just pieces that I am unable to understand. I fear somehow these rogue pieces prove the things that all those people in my short life said about me. Somehow if I speak about all the pieces that don't seem to fit together it will prove all the things, I hold in my head about being unworthy and unlovable, a liar. All those awful terrible things that so many people taught me to believe when I was barely breathing. Yesterday was a really hard day, I woke up convinced that I was going to figure it all out. I was going to put moments and pieces of my life to pen and paper and make them make sense make them fit. That didn't happen.
What did happen, is I was left holding pieces that will never fit together. No matter what I do or how hard that I try.
I tried to make them fit into some kind of timeline. I tried to make them make sense but just when I thought one piece fit, others fell out of place. There were a lot of tears. A lot of sleeping and a lot of being still afraid that if I moved, I would completely fall to pieces. I would write, sleep cry then repeat all day. I long for answers and pieces to fit to somehow be able to build my case and be able to say see I wasn't lying; I needed your help and support. I needed you to know that these things happened to me and that I was not ok. I was not ok at all, and I was 13. I was doing it all on my own and not one person stepped up for me. I want so much to find some answers to find some picture that will make a connection that will somehow put my mind at ease.
I found yesterday as I was trying to figure out the pieces it seems that the more that I look trying to find answers the more confusing that they all tend to get. I think ok; I understand this one piece but in that finding only brings more confusion.
I know that it all started at Celebrate 88. The Summer of my seventh-grade year. And it all ended the following Summer when I just wanted to die. An entire year 365 days of pieces that I am desperately trying to understand. I am afraid that I have to apologize I am going to get out some of those pieces, just as I remember them, how they are in my head because really is there any sense to any of this? A young, girl a child even made the outsider because she chose to speak about the terrible things that were done to her. Is there any sense? No, I don't think that there is, but yet I want to create a picture and be able to prove that I was hurt and that I needed help.
Here is what I know and how I remember, the pieces that are sharp and can slice a person open from the inside out. I wanted someone to believe me and hold on to me and tell me that all those things weren't my fault; and that they were going to keep me safe. All I got was shame and blame. All I got was the message that no one would really want to do that to me, those things don't happen, and I just must want attention.
I was not old enough to go to this youth Christian weekend. But Everyone said I was so mature, and somehow that make it ok. I didn't fit in with them. I was a scared child they were all in high school, another place that I didn't fit in. I didn't fit anywhere my entire life really. Well, I guess we were supposed to do some kind of presentation. For a reason that I cannot explain I said that I would do it which included dancing in front of the entire GYM in front of everyone that was there. I am not sure what I was thinking. I wasn't obviously. So, mistake number one I put myself out there. And there was a part of me that was excited. It felt new and exciting, but as I danced, my shorts came up and I remember being mortified. Like somehow because I choose to dance in front of everyone, because I wasn't careful, and my shorts came up I was the lowest of the low. The embarrassment I felt was much greater than it should have been. When it was over, and it was time for the dance. I think that there were a few guys in my group that I wanted to dance with, and they did not; so, I sat mostly just watching as an outsider. Until Don asked me to dance. I am sure that I was shocked. It was already in my brain that no one wanted to dance with me. So, we danced, he made me laugh. I felt important, almost normal. Then I didn't see him again until Church service on Sunday morning. He carried the candles and was right behind the priest. He saw me and smiled. I was noticed again. We talked by the flowers he gave me a kiss and said that he would see me again.
He showed up at my house, I was shocked and for a second, I was excited. I don't know how much time had passed since celebrate 88 but I know school had started again. 8th grade. Another unanswered question. When you are 13 time is something that you honestly don't think of. He pushed his way in. He was a different person than the guy I met at that weekend. He was unkind and very rough. He raped me. I struggled to understand, I was so confused. I remember thinking this is just what I am good for. I was the slut for dancing with him and being. excited when he kissed me,..This is just what happens to me another rape in a lifetime of thousands.
A short time later, Don came back. I was in the shower, my parents doing a church weekend. Home alone as always. He called 4 other people. I was gang raped from early morning until the sun went down. NO one came home and checked on me. No one called to make sure that I was ok. Over and over, there are times during that day that will remain black it's too much to bring them to light. I didn't think I was going to make it out of that day alive. I had visions of my parents coming home and finding my dead body. I remember their laugh, how they made fun of me. This was not the kind guy that I met that gave me butterflies. This is what I was good for. No one cared I was a slut who asked for it.
I remember telling Calvin what happened to me. I remember him asking me if they finished, at that time I didn't have a clue what he meant. He told me and I was more than embarrassed. He said that these things could not keep happening to me and that I had to tell. I did tell and wished I didn't. There was no love or support, there was no care for my heart that wanted nothing more than to die. No one held me and told me that it wasn't my fault. All I got were people telling me no one would want to do that to me. I must be lying I just wanted attention. There was absolutely no care.
There was one therapist appointment at Friends of the Family being belittled the entire time. There was one with my father where I was asked how many there were then ignored, then there was the appointment with Dr.Culpepper. I was terrified and just trying to breathe. He was the only person who listened to me and told me that I couldn't bottle things up. I never cried a single tear.
I must have taken a test, I was pregnant. No one knew. Calvin was my go-to. I can remember being excited when I felt her move and letting Calvin feel. What a fairy tale that I lived in. I am not sure what happened next. I think that don showed up again. This time it was February, I can remember that he brought flowers, it was around valentines. I saw him and there was no feeling no emotion. I unbuttoned my pants and laid down. There was no fight he was going to take what he wanted. He was shocked, I didn't have any fight left, this was what I good for. The less that I fought, then the faster he would be done with me. He kicked me on the way out and just left.
I never told anyone why bother. The things that happened to me didn't matter. I was already the black sheep in the church, I was seen as the crazy one. I could feel the stares, I heard the unkind words and all that mattered was my baby Bella. I was living as if I was going to live happily ever after.
Life went on until it didn't anymore. There was an intense pain, and a lot of blood. After everything that happened to me, I was used to blood, this was something very different. I can remember calling Calvin and I remember him picking me up. The next thing that I remember was being in the hospital. I have two memories there. One is that room, so bright white, like I wasn't even there really but watching from far away. And the second memory was the Dr putting his hand on my leg telling me that I lost her. There were a few other people standing around the bed, but I don't know who they were, I can't see their faces. I felt very small. All I know is that the only kindness I received was that DR with his hand on my leg telling me he was sorry. No one was ever sorry for the things that happened to me. those are my two memories. I don't know what happened after that. All I knew is that the only thing that kept me going was gone.
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I have looked it up and if you are over a certain number of weeks then a death certificate and everything has to be filled out, I don't know if any of that was done. I don't know anything and sometimes that is the heaviest weight. Sometimes I wish I had the words to talk about things figure them out but there aren't any answers. I don't know what happened, I don't know what hospital I was at, I am thinking it was Lewisville because that was the only ER around, but I don't know. I don't know anything.
After three days nothing else was done, no one ever talked to me, and no one ever acknowledged that I had been brutally assaulted and was dying inside. Life went on as usual. I was just the girl who wanted attention.
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Things just got worse and worse, the nightmares were brutal, I wanted nothing more than to forget but all I did was remember. I didn't sleep, didn't have friends, I was the walking dead. Not one person saw me, I felt invisible my heart was broken. My parents knew I wasn't well. They planned a trip to Florida with my grandmother. I wasn't planning on coming home. I just wanted to die. I didn't want to have to fight anymore. I didn't want to remember; I didn't want to have to pretend that I was fine.
A year in the life of a 13-year-old girl. A year full of pieces. A year full of loss and a weight that no little girl, should ever have to carry alone. I write this and realize I have had this sinking feeling all day like I have done something terribly wrong in speaking and writing about all of this. It is this deep ingrained feeling that feels so overwhelming, physically I am affected down to my bones. I am the one left after all this time with this sinking feeling, that I have done something so incredibly shameful. I just want to get all these pieces that tear at my heart a place to rest. I know today that there are things that I will never have an answer for, and there isn't a thing that I can do about it. I want to scream at the world for the person that I am today, I want to scream at the world for that scared little girl that wanted someone to see her and do something.
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I heart your heart
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