Sometimes it hits so hard

 

I just finished Baby Reindeer on Netflix. I am at a loss for words.  I finished and my stomach is uneasy, and I so badly want him to find his happily ever after.  I watch it and my heart understands.  I watch and I think how amazing this is for all the people that will be able to watch it and find solace that they are not the only ones. So many things are heartbreaking.  A man so hurt he will do anything to make another human feel anything other than all the things he felt about himself.  A man so lost he struggles separating himself from the things that have done him the most harm, one of those shows that is going to stick with me, that is going to take some time to process in my brain.  

I can watch movies like this all day and most don't affect me really.  There is this part of my brain that watches things like this looking for answers, happy for others and trying to find some sense.  The truth is there will never be a movie to make sense out of the things that have happened in my life.  There will be no movie to give me a happy ending, to make everything all better.  But I can watch movies and be grateful they were created and grateful that hopefully they will help others.  I will always watch movies like this in hopes that there is a glimmer that will somehow ease my pain even if for a short time. 

The part where he sits down with his parents, that broke me.  I have never been able to just sit and do that.  I have never been able to just tell them to wait and get it all out.  His father, his response, that was beautiful.  

I found myself wanting to say the words more than I ever have before.  I say the words in writing, they are so much easier to type then to let the sounds pass your lips.  I can talk about it in a roundabout way, but to sit with those words, leaving my mouth is more than difficult.  I am not even a fan of hearing someone else say them.  I find that somehow, I can say them if its somehow far away and apart from me.  But to be fully present and say the words, I am just not sure. 

I was raped. I was raped. I was raped. 

I don't think those words will ever become easy, will ever be something that I can say and not cringe, like I have done something terrible wrong.  I say those words, and I think I can say it millions of times for each assault, for each hurt, for each time that my body was used even when I said no and fought like hell. 

Sometimes I wish that I could be easy with myself and just sit, spill it all out, cry, feel then pick myself back up knowing that speaking the words doesn't make me any less of a person. Saying those words, are what happened to me and not the person that I am inside.  That is a hard one to understand. Those words are what happened to me, not who I am.  That is powerful. 

I was raped so many times, I don't even have a number and it becomes so normal.  When another rape happens you go to this numb dark place, because it's just safer there.  I say the words and the pictures start running, there was this time and this time and this time and this time and this time.  Sometimes they all start running together, because when your 5 that is just what happens and as you get older and it still happens, they still run together just your body is older.  And then later still later you think, well it just happens it just happens.  But it shouldn't happen.  It should not have happened when I was 5 or when I was 13 or when I was 29.  Those things never should have happened at any time in my life and today at 49 I am still picking up the pieces.  

I think that I have more pieces than I have ever had, but that doesn't make it any easier. 

I was raped.  I was raped. I was raped. I woke up, I went to work, I taught, and I was raped.  All things that happened. Only the first one bruised and scarred who I am to my very core. The first one was something that became just as normal as waking up going to work and teaching.  

I watched this movie and thought, I want to sit my children down and tell them.  These are the things that happened to me.  These are the reasons that I am so protective, that I say the things that I say, that I respond to things the way that I do.  These are some of the reasons why.  I want to say, I am so sorry that you don't have a dad.  I want to say, I wanted to be normal, and wanted to go shopping and out to lunch.  I want to say, he came in my home and had no intention of any kindness. He was more than a mean man, he was worse than just not listening to me. I want to say he put a pillow over a face, and I begged him no, that we were supposed to go shopping and my entire world went black. I need to tell them, He raped me there on my bed and just left, admiring his BMW.  I want to tell them that, so they understand the woman that I am today and why I fight so hard to be that person. I want to tell them that so they can understand, I am not a monster.  Someday I will sit, and I will share, and they can listen and come to understand. You can ask anything you need to ask, and then I hope you will have a different understanding. 

Sometimes I picture myself  sharing the words and I laugh hysterically because they are just that heavy.  Somehow keeping them in takes such great effort, that releasing them is something there are no words for.  I remember the first time that I saw the Accused.  I was over my friends Lori's house.  And after I watched it, the laughing was so intense and all I could do, there were quiet tears later after she had fallen asleep.  But that laughing like there is no way that so much could happen to a person in one lifetime, and that person still be walking around smiling living and even breathing.  

so many things, this one is going to take time to sort through.  

I was raped so many times and yes, I am still here still breathing and still trying to figure out how that word can become just a word and not something that makes me unworthy. 

I heart your heart.