The Anniversary

Tomorrow marks the 27th anniversary of the day I was raped.  Friday the 13th.  It was a beautiful fall night with leaves changing and a chill in the air.  People in my area love fall for pumpkins and bonfires and its beauty.  But most years when I smell that crisp aroma and feel that same vibe I'm brought back to that moment.  My sexual assault therapist told me back then that I would know I was healed when I could talk about it like the weather.  I didn't listen clearly, as often happens with me, and I heard talk as feel.  I can talk about it the same way I'd tell you it's partly cloudy with a chance of storms but the feelings remain.  These feeling have changed over the years, as I can speak it without crying, but it still haunts me. 

This wasn't the first rape by this person.  This was my boyfriend and he'd taken my virginity by raping me months before.  I was brought up in Evangelical Christianity and your virginity, especially for girls, was the end all be all to who you were.  Jesus might forgive you but no man wants something already used!  I didn't fully buy into this but the sentiment hung on.  I did have a romanticized notion of what your first time should look like; you would love the person, it would be magical and a memory to cherish.  My experience was repeatedly saying no and he penetrated me anyway.  When it was done I ran to the bathroom sobbing while he laughed and said, "Ha ha!  You're not a virgin now!"  I don't recall how I left the bathroom, or what happened after, but I stayed with him.  It took me many years to even call that moment rape.  I went into shock and decided I had to make this work out so what happened would be OK. 

He was verbally abusive and told me daily, "You are the ugliest fattest woman on the planet and you're lucky to have me because no one would want you."  My father made sure I knew he didn't think I was all that good looking and he hated my curviness, so my abuser was able to play on my deep insecurities.  I was terrified of him but didn't tell anyone.  When he was at work one night (took my car) I got a wrong number and started a conversation with this man.  We spoke about random things, no flirting or innuendo, but then I got scared of what would happen if I were caught.  I suddenly freaked out and said, "I have to go and don't call back or something bad will happen to me!"  He called back the next night.  We spoke again and he said, "I don't know you but I'll help you.  You are clearly in a horrible situation.  I'll get you out."  I didn't accept the help, as I feared I really was the biggest troll on the planet and surely he'd leave once he saw me, but it woke me up.  I left saying, "Maybe I am all those things.  Maybe I'll always be alone.  Still better than being with you!"  Those words probably sealed my future fate but I love that I said them.

On September 13th he begged me to drive with him to have coffee and talk.  I didn't want to but his continual pestering got to me so I relented.  We had coffee, and he was pleading for me to come back, and when I refused the verbal abuse started again.  I asked to be taken back to my car.  He started driving the other direction and I knew this was bad.  I prayed my heart out for a red light so I could jump out but every light was green.  He brought me to his place where I tried to make a run for it and he caught me.  After raping me he said he hoped I got pregnant.  He let me run at this point.  I was staying at my mother's and told her what happened.  She made me go to the police. Reports, hospital for a rape kit, and he was arrested.  The prosecutor said he couldn't file charges because there was only proof of sex and not rape, so he was released. 

Many years ago, when email was the way to communicate, I sent one of those silly lists where you say your favorite things and get to know each other and friends then send it back with their answers.  The last number said to say something nice about whomever sent the email to you.  My friend said, "She's the biggest survivor I know."  Huge compliment, right?  It haunts me.  My thought then, and still today, is "I didn't want to be a survivor.  I only wanted a fucking break." 

We've all heard of people who have experienced horrors beyond belief say, "I'm thankful it happened because it made me who I am today."  You know what?  Fuck who I am today!  Am I a wonderful, kind, loving, funny, fantastic person?  Yes, I am.  I absolutely am.  But the pain of who I am today, the daily burden, the efforts I have to take to be this person...no, I'm not grateful. Yet though I wish my journey had been different I won't let it all not matter.   

"I am beautiful no matter what they say..." No matter what he said.

These instances broke me hard in ways I'm not ready to talk about.  Yet I did survive.  My life is good.  I actually thrived bigger and better than I ever imagined I could.  I'm deeply flawed but resilient as fuck.  I share this to remind myself I wasn't at fault.  I share this to release it because I'm so tired of carrying it.  I share this because someone else needs to hear it.