Oh the things that crush my heart. August 22 is coming up, and I feel it. It feels heavier this year and I am not sure why . Maybe just because I am taking my time to feel. August 22 is a day that hurts that I hate and also a day that I would do all over again. I would do it again for my children and I wish it was different for me. Mariska was showing me some books that she got and one of them was titled black enough. Black enough, somehow that title is like a knife through my heart. I noticed even on her thumbs up emoji its not a white thumbs up its black. And every time she uses it, I shrink a little. I see those titles and those little things and think am I not enough ? I know that being black is a part of them , somewhere in my brain I know that but in my heart, its a different story. It is a devastating part because I can't help them understand I can't give them answers I can not fix it for them. Every year I hate that this is such a big deal for me. It's not about them at all. They are the reason I breathe. The are the reason that I am still here. August 22 is a day about me. The time before they were here, when a man had no intention of going shopping. A man who placed a pillow on my face took what he wanted and left admiring his car. That is what August 22 is for me and I have to find some kind of peace in that. I have to someway be able to let it go and have this day not be so horrific.
I think that I had a gut feeling when he showed up at the door. He smelled of smoke and I hate that, I was so willing to look past that. When he was so late, there were so many red flags and I was not able to see them. When he wanted a tour of the house, when we ended up in my room. When he laid on my bed, and I was sorry that he broke his sunglasses. He didn't even care said that he could get another pair. I don't remember getting on the bed but I remember being there. I know I had clothes on but next thing I remember I obviously didn't. And How do I not remember such important things. My body felt nothing, I was somewhere far away in a darkness that only rape can take you there. It's a place of knowing yet feeling nothing. A place that is silent but distant whispers are there. Your body isn't in this place it's in the light with what is happening, but you don't feel a thing. Maybe it's just your spirit that goes to this place to survive, to be ok. At least in this place there isn't the violence that is experienced in the light of your room on your bed, with the pillow over your face.
I can remember him getting off the bed and coming back to my body. There are moments of confusion, there is an ache and you think NO NO not again. Then you realize that you have no bottoms on, he gets off the bed and you struggle to find your clothes. There in the same moment of time is a knowing of what happened to you, and thinking maybe not this time. Because in your heart there is the feeling that this is what you are good for. Just clean up. I can remember makeup on my face and trying to pull myself together. I threw a shirt on and he was in a hurry. His thoughts were on his shiny BMW. My thoughts were still but we were supposed to go shopping. We were supposed to go shopping. I was supposed to be normal for one single afternoon. In the next moments there are two women the one who wanted to be normal and the one who knew and was all too aware of what happened on that bed. If it was just sex, if I was just a slut, that intense shame and sadness wouldn't have been there. That unknowing and having to be somewhere else away from my body would not be there if I wanted that to happen. I did not want that to happen. I did not want him to do that. What I did want was, a normal afternoon, laughing, shopping and just being normal. I held my shirt together and cried as he left. I locked the door, cleaned and straightened my bed. I checked the lock again and cried until there were no tears left. I am so sad for the woman that was there on that bed. I am so sad for the women that had to go away. Now is the time the she is me and I am her. Those things happened and no matter how I look at it; it was violent, it was unspeakable, it was nothing that I ever wanted. I am so sorry. I am so very sorry.
I heart your heart.
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