Next Steps : Naming IT : one part

I have to name the IT ...I have to name it to kill it But it's so embarrassing, degrading and shameful the things that were done. How do I tell someone and then keep going. How do I tell someone and expect them to be the same person towards me.  How do I have enough breathe to get the words out and then keep breathing. How do I even speak the words without crumbling like a stale cookie. How do I tell someone and not die from the fact that I did those things. Somehow this is a different kind of acknowledgement. This is the truth of the matter that I like to sugar coat to keep me functioning.

 The "it" is just more than humiliating. In Dr.Hopper's talk he kept talking about how the things that he was talking about don't happen in consensual sex, and there is a part of my brain that just doesn't understand that. I hear that and cringe what I know are all the things that have happened to me.  In my brain what happened to me is sex.  Someone says sex I see what happened to me.  Since I was 5 these things were happening and I don't know anything else, I hate bodies and their parts.  I hate how bodies react, the embarrassment of knowing what they wanted and what was going to happen to me makes me want to crawl in a hole. In my head naming the it, makes it closer and I think sometimes it's easier to get lost in my head than acknowledge and name the "it" that was done.  Naming it, gets me closer to being in my own skin and that is terrifying.  I don't even like to simply focus on breathing, because it's just too close, that is insane.  I feel like this should not be such a big thing, but it is.  It is so big.  I am mortified at what was done to me and how I was treated. 

I don't understand where the need comes to even speak the IT. I want to make it all go away to a place, where it can never come back.  The need isn't there to speak it the need is to not have to carry it anymore.  And the overlap between those two things is something that I don't understand.  I just don't want these things to take up so much space in my mind and heart. The it is in my brain, heart and mind all the time. 

I think to name it ;is just fucking embarrassing the things that have been done.  Somewhere deep down it's like it's going to make me even more unlovable, if that is even possible. 

I know that people talk about the bodies responses, for me I don't remember responding.  I don't remember feeling anything other than intense pain.   I don't remember my body responding because the pain was always so great. Either that or I just wasn't there. I think for that I can be grateful.  My body didn't respond because the pain was all there was. I guess when you are 5 the first time that "it" happens, you don't understand what is happening, but you know how badly that it hurts. I think I hated the fact that other bodies responded.  I knew when their bodies responded and that was so shameful.  I knew the nights that my father didn't work and for me there was a relief in that. But to have knowledge of that, is unthinkable at such a young age.  I never should know anything like that.  I should never have had to experience that at 5 or 10 or 13 years old. As a 48 year old that is unfathomable.  That I knew about those things is something so devastating to me. Someone says sex I see what happened to me they say Rape and I think well was it that bad, I mean I just went away.  Those are the conversations in my head.  And then there are those moments I think it was that bad, it was so bad that your brain had to make the world black,  your mind had to take you far away just to survive.  The two sides of my mind, so hard to process. 

Sometimes I say the words in my head and I think I want to scream them I want to get them out, but the shame is so huge, I skip them.  In my writing so many times if I am reading something, I have it written down somehow that is ok but to say them out loud is something devastating.  Those words have great power and as less than as I feel saying the words, it makes those feelings even stronger.  I want to get them out to understand them to make sense of , and to understand the things that happened to me.  I think that there is a part of me that will somehow find some peace if I can just get them out and not feel like I am the one that is so awful. 

So here is my small attempt at naming the "it" that has happened. Do I list the it, do I give context do I, what the fuck!!!  How do I do this.  I never remember not knowing what to do or what was wanted.  The guilt for that is so enormous. 

The real words are terrifying.  

 I remember my father making me give him oral sex, I thought I was going to die.  He straddled my neck on the waterbed, his knees sinking, and I couldn't catch my breath.  I was terrified.  I couldn't breathe and he didn't care.   This was the first time he had done that , that I remember.  I expected to be touched but this was on a different brutal level.  I can remember him being very rough and telling me that I better not get sick in his bed.  Well how about you take your parts out of my mouth ASS Hole. This is so much more personal when someone is at your face and forcing you to do these things,  he was this large dark looming person over me, I was so afraid.  I was choking, coughing he didn't care.  He finally got off of my neck and pushed me out of bed again telling me I better not get sick.  How does a five year old survive that? There was no thought to get help no thought to tell anyone.  You just went back to your room and clean up.  I know that I wasn't quiet, because I was struggling to breathe and not once did he stop until he was done. He held my head exactly where he wanted it.  Where was my mother?  Our house wasn't that big, 

This literally makes my stomach turn.  I was five years old.  Where was the thought to yell for help? Where was the thought to escape to bite him ? Where was the thought for someone to help me ?  Even at 5 I knew that wasn't an option.  I knew that there was no help.  There were never any of those at 5 this is just how things went.  

I heart your heart