Ever So Grateful

 

There are so many thoughts in my heart.  There are so many things that I want to convey and all I have are some letters to form the words.  My words: I am sure don't even come close to how grateful, how touched how   absolutely amazed I am, that a group of people came together to hear to listen and to learn from pieces and parts of my story.  These are people that have the power to do things differently for the clients that they meet and walk alongside. 

When I was asked if I would be willing to speak, I cried.  And without hesitation said yes.  If somehow that my story can make a difference, if some part of my story can help someone else then I am all in.  I have found myself saying that i have to make my story mean something.  

I have to give my story a voice and a purpose.  

Saturday Feb 18, 2023, was my day to do that.  

I was a little nervous, but I think there was a part of me that was more excited.

I asked Mark for an outline, and I wrote pages and pages, like 49 pages. 

There is just so many parts and pieces to my story and how they are intertwined. 

I wanted to make sure that I said the right things that, what I said would make an impact. 

I looked over those pages and deleted and rewrote and deleted some more and added other things. 

Then finaly I sent Mark an email land said that I just couldn't look at it anymore, I knew my story and I knew that he would ask the questions and I just had to answer them.  

So the night before there was no nerves, there was a peace really.  I saw it as a time to make my story mean something. 

Saturday came along with the nerves.  I just wanted to say the right things that would make a difference, that would help them help people like me in their own clients along the way.  I got there early, just sat and was trying to breathe. 

Mark and Vanessa drove up and all was well with the world.

I knew that Mark would not have me do this if I wasn't ready and if it wasn't the right time.  

I found my spot on the couch, Mark was setting everything up.  Then they said oh no you guys are up at the front. Ok there might have been a little panic in those words.  I grabbed a pillow, my security blanket.  I felt stupid.  But Mark and Vanessa were like that is totally ok.  Their words just were felt in my heart and there was just a peace.  People started to arrive and in true Callahan fashion, I just observed. How they interacted with each other how they all interacted together.  oh, forget about the journals, but I didn't.  As I was introduced, and he welcomed everyone to my life in pictures, my brain was on slow motion as everyone took one and page by page started going through the journals of my life when I didn't yet have words.  I think that was the hardest part, those are every piece of my life.

The journals that I brought were all on little tables in the center of the room. I think that is when I found it hard to breathe for a moment.  They have been shared with very few people and seeing them sitting there, it felt more than vulnerable. It felt like my heart was sitting in the center of the room surrounded by everything There was a split second, I wanted to take it back and say sorry can't see these

He went around the room everyone checking in.  It felt so comfortable and so normal. It came to Vaness's turn and she got a little teary, which of course made me teary!   Callahan cry never!  There was a small bit of nervousness, because I knew there were just so many things that I wanted to convey. 

I wasn't out of place or in the way. I mean this was my story I knew it inside and out.

I lived it, everything would be ok.  

Mark asked the questions, and I began to tell pieces of my story. 

I can say those two hours flew by.  I felt like there was so much more that I wanted to say.

There were times I felt like I said what needed to be said and answered the question other times my brain would go on automatic, and I worried if I answered his question at all.  There were times that I worried if I made sense.  There are so many different pieces and trying to make them all fit is sometimes harder than you would imagine. 

I felt so supported and cared for.  At one point I could remember thinking, if I had these people back when I was 13 things would have been so incredibly different for me, I would have been given a voice and kept safe.  People would have done something and that meant the world to me.

A few people asked questions, a few people had comments.  I wish that I had a recording so that I could remember each and every word that was spoken to me.  For once I just took them in and let them settle on my soul.  People had the kindest words, that they were grateful that they learned a lot that what I was doing made a difference. I received emails, notes, hugs and words of encouragement that I will forever cherish.  

I didn't want the two hours to end, I felt like there were still so many things to explain and to help them understand. I went in thinking that I had so much to share and came out feeling brave and courageous. I was told that they would carry pieces of me with them as they saw their clients, and for the rest of their lives.  That is huge.  I had someone, ask even more questions when it was all over and for no other purpose than to learn and understand.  I was given notes of thankfulness, and emails and I am still trying to let it all sink in.  This was one of the best things that I have ever done.  This was the start of a new chapter for me, and I am beyond grateful.  I went into the day thinking about all the things that I wanted them to learn, but I was the one who left feeling so full, and so heard. 

I was listened to and heard, and I am a better person because of all of them.  I learned things about my own story and myself, that I will never ever forget. I am still processing, still smiling and I know for sure that having this opportunity meant more than I can even wrap my head around. 

I am more than grateful for Mark and Vanessa, and I am unbelievably lucky that I had the chance to meet those people in that room at this time.  I will carry them with me and forever hold the entire experience in my heart.  I am sure there is more writing, I am still processing each and every moment, holding it like a shiny new memory and taking up space with love and light. 

Its so seriously cheesy , but it felt like that day and those people were the wind beneath my wings.  In how they treated me, I gained a confidence and a resolve to speak more and to believe in the good of the people that surround me today.  I hope in that, I can slowly release all of the terrible things that were said as a little girl that made me ashamed and doubtful.  I felt strong in my story not weak and that was something that my heart can grow with.

 

I heart your heart.

Feeling like I am frozen

 It's so strange. It feels like I am frozen from the inside out and there are so many things to do and say but you literally can't. I am stuck as a little scared 13-year-old girl. As much as I want things to change and be free there are parts of me that are frozen, stuck unable to move. We are both frozen solid in the terror of all the things that are unimaginable. I remember these tiny little pieces, yet there are other big pieces that are completely blank. There are pieces of me that are still holding on for dear life to all of the things that I want to forget. I get so happy making steps in the right direction and just like that it feels like healing is so far away.  I realized this weekend that I keep expecting, that aha moment and somehow, I am going to feel this freedom that I have never felt. Then there is this utter disappointment when it doesn't come.  I know that nothing comes easy or fast, but there are moments I feel that my heart gets so close and gets so disappointed.  

I am sitting here in a place I don't want to be, and I can't get warm, the tears keep streaming down my face and I want to scream at the world.  It's a windy day, the birds are singing, and I want to just sit and take it all in, but my heart just can't grab any piece of happy. The pictures that are on repeat are so clear and so vivid. it's just so hard to get them out.  I fear that I am being too dramatic, that I am making a mountain out of a mow hill.  Sometimes I don't even know how to get the words out because they take my breath away; and I can't believe that I survived them.  The smallest sounds I still hear like the clicking of the gun, the laughing, the doors opening and closing.  their words. I still feel the hands of each of them, pulling and pushing.  I can hear myself cry, but it really didn't matter.  I can feel the cold linoleum floor in the entryway the first time I saw him after celebrate 88. I just couldn't understand why he was hurting me.   I feel the rough rug that was by the back door, as I laid there in the cold feeling the warmth of the sun. I see them all shadows of faces that I never wanted to see.  I think I would know Don and I would know Andy but the others I wouldn't have a clue.  I don't know how to get over this part.  I don't know how to move past the things that were done to me.  The gross and disgusting of what was done is burnt into my being.  Even back then I would replay each terrifying moment trying to think of what I could have done, fought harder, ran faster, anything, anything other than letting all of those things happen. It seems terrifying to speak about and devasting to keep inside.  I don't understand this part.  I don't understand why I can't let go and move on.  And at the same time, I think of older little Callahan.  Just 13 there was no way to process everything that was happening to her.  There was no way that she could possibly understand. And take any of it in.  And those are the times when she was consciousness enough to even do that.  

I was so naive.  I knew rape, I knew what that was, that was my normal.  But don was something even more evil.  I am sitting outside trying to stay present and that day is like a freight train and there is no way for me to escape.  This just may be the one part that isn't healable.  This may be the part that I can't get over, that I can't be ok with.  As I sit here in this amazing breeze, I see it happening to that bigger little Callahan and I am so afraid.  I want to run, I want to hide away and there is no escape for her.  And I am at a loss as to how to help.   I feel them that close.  

Even if you don't believe me, it still happened.

 

Even if you don't believe me, it still happened. 

The best line I have ever read in a book. 

I have spent my entire life defending what happened to me. 

Trying to make it make sense for you.

Wanting so badly for you to believe me and care for my hurt heart.

I have spent my entire life trying to prove to you that it did happen.  

All those awful terrible things happened to me; I survived them all.

I have spent lifetimes.

Trying to prove to you how badly that I was hurt.

In every way that I knew how. 

Trying to prove that I never wanted any of the attention that I got. 

I have tried to make my life small, make what happened to me insignificant.

I have tried to believe that what happened to me didn't matter.

No big deal it was just another Rape, in a lifetime of thousands upon thousands.

 I mean come on I have known rape since I was 5. 

What's one more?

Not really a big deal, right? 

I have felt every sneer, every judgement, every comment....and was crushed

The ones that hurt the most: here's a few. 

Well, how long was he there? 

I was silent, I am sorry I forgot to look at a clock, it felt like lifetimes as he held me down.

And you laughed and said sex doesn't take that long. 

The words I was the chubby unpopular kid who would want to do that to me. 

Your right I am the ugly one, no one would want to come near me. 

And there was the one that I wasn't showing enough emotion. 

Really, would you rather I be writhing on the floor, screaming, begging you to help me ? 

Would you have believed me then? 

When it hurt to sit, and stand and lay down if I told you that would you believe me? 

If I showed, you my blackened body from the bruises?

If I screamed from the rooftops, would you have treated me different? 

Would you have held my heart and helped me heal, if you believed me? 

Or would you have still left a 13-year-old girl to figure all these things out for herself?  

Do you want to hear how I was gang raped under the fan and couldn't get warm no matter what I did? 

Did you know that I would have rather died than survived the unimaginable?

I wanted them to just pull the trigger and put an end to all the pain. Is that what you want to hear?

Would you like me to tell you how my arms fell asleep as I had to hold my father's cross, so it didn't wake anyone up? 

Would you like to hear how I had to leave my little body because it was too overwhelming for my brain? 

Would you like me to tell you about 5 men taking turns, and just hoping that each turn would be the last?

Do you want to know the story about having my tadpoles killed and being told that next time I wouldn't fight. and that I blamed myself because I couldn't save them. 

Do you want to know how afraid that I was every single day?  

Do you want to know that I was forever exhausted, ALL THE TIME.

Would you believe me if I told you that every night bedtime prayers for me meant begging not to wake up another day?  At 5?

If I told you that my world went black because I was so overwhelmed? 

Would you believe me then?  Would you believe me if I fit into your little box? 

Would you believe me, if I was your daughter?  Your sister? Your friend?

Would you believe me then? 

Would you believe me if I gave you an instant replay, of what they did to my little body?

Would you believe me then? Would you? Would you? Would you?

If I laid out my life piece by piece for you, then would you believe me?

The fact remains.

It still happened and it happened to me.  

I was raped from the time I was five years old by adult men. 

Not once, not twice but over and over and over and over again.

Men that knew better. Men that I should have been safe with. 

Whether you believe me or not, it still happened. 

Whether you believe me or not; I will keep fighting. 

Whether you believe me or not, I am going to heal and keep fighting for others who also weren't believed.  

I don't fucking care if you believe me anymore, these things happened to me. 

These things should have killed me but didn't. 

I should have withered and died because I got no help and support. 

But I didn't, I fought for my life. I survived totally on my own. and I am winning. 

These things happened, these things changed me, and these things are a part of the person that I am.

So, all I have to say is: 

I heart your heart. 

Bigger than I ever imagined

 I had been preparing to speak to a group of interns I was going over the outline and writing some, ok maybe a lot.  I wanted to say all of the right things, I wanted to make an impact. The things that I realized are heartbreaking, All the things that happened to me are so much bigger than I ever imagined or could even fathom.  Every single person that hurt me was a part of the church.  Every single person was a part of the problem and each and every one of those people let me down and they made me the problem. Every single person that could have done something didn't.  Every single person that should have offered help and support didn't.  All of the people around me were cowards and made me the girl who was lying because they were unable to see the truth and too afraid to do anything about it. I didn't know any different and I took it all in. 

Yesterday was the day.  I arrived early.  I was nervous but there was also a calm.  As scared as I was, there was a part of me that was even more excited.  This was a chance for my story to mean something.  This was a chance for this group to do things different, to take parts and pieces of my story and use them as they helped their own clients. 

I talked about things that I have never spoken openly to others about.  I spoke about things that I have felt more than ashamed about. Of course, I can chip away at myself, that I was scattered.  I can be angry that I didn't look around more, that I didn't explain things better. There were a few times I would start answering a question and then I got lost and am not sure I answered the right way.  I didn't say some of what I felt were important things, I said other things that didn't really matter. I am pretty sure that, I could write pages about all the things that I did wrong. I could write pages about all the things that I could have done better, all the things that I could or should have said.  My time with them went by so fast, I think each piece alone could be two hours.  There are so many parts and pieces, and things that are so close together, there are pieces that are so entangled in each other.  

The interns were all amazing. One that was sitting the closest to me thanked me for being willing to share. That it meant so much and that it was something that she will carry forever, one of the younger interns said that this was something amazing and that everyone there will carry a piece of me with them as they work with their clients.  Another said she could relate to so much about being in a dysfunctional family. She spoke to me with tears in her eyes, she was from Boston. She asked questions about how to help and questions about how I dealt with things.  It was amazing.  I was seen and heard.  I cried I was vulnerable.  It was so good, I left wanting more.  More times, I wanted to explain more, I wanted more connection, I didn't want it to end.  

There is a part of me that feels more than guilty that I didn't want it to end.  When there was little time left and Mark asked for questions, I found myself dreading the time when it would come to a close.  I feel like there were so many things to say to explain to get out of me.  I know that I will carry this with me forever, and I know that I want more of the sharing, I want more of the openness, I want more of the connection.  I feel like each and every person in that room would have done things so differently, then how I was treated.  So much hope that the people they will come in contact with will get the help and support that they need.  That is something more than amazing. 

A deep sadness also hit, at just all that was lost, al that was never experienced.  I feel that 13 year old, and I just want to sleep and find warmth.  It's strange, so many new beginning and there is a sad that I don't have words for.  It's a lonely sad,  even in all the good things.  Maybe that is just the piece that will always ache.  I don't know.

So many things to think about.  But I can tell you that the need to just let it all out, not in writing or pictures but speaking it and making connections to others is the strongest than it has ever been.  I can't and don't want to carry the weight of all that has happened to me.  More than ever, I don't feel alone in my story and I have so much more to say. 

I heart your heart.