Body Count…

I was following a conversation on social media today on an account about abusive relationships and the account owner’s life after her divorce. She was doing a Q & A and a follower asked her what her “body count” was. At first, she didn’t understand but later learned that “body count” referred to how many sexual partners she’d had.

This topic stemmed from her talking about her experience dating after divorce as a Christian and how she was struggling because so many men want to have sex while dating, and even require it, before deciding to pursue another marriage or move forward seriously in a relationship. This is a boundary she has set for herself and she will not cross before remarrying.

This stirred something in me throughout the day. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. At first my answer (to myself) to this question was “my body count is 2,” a college boyfriend and my husband. But as I continued to think about the conversation it occurred to me that I was lying to myself. This is not true. I don’t know the real answer. My original answer is just what I had control over…or rather, relationships I had chosen. But what about the rest of my life? My father, my neighbor, my grandfather and his brother, my uncles, the men my mother and father handed me over to who raped me repeatedly and tortured me and impregnated me throughout the course of my childhood?

Suddenly the shame I felt for even being able to answer “2” grew overwhelmingly. My answer is now “I don’t know.” That disgusts me. It literally makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t even know the number of times my body was used for others sexual pleasure. I don’t even remember all the faces, names, incidents, or facts to the circumstances. My soul is fractured, hundreds of millions of times, because of these additional men…women too, I realize now that my brain is thinking about this and remembering.

The weight of this realization is crushing me. I feel so broken. So gross and soiled. So inadequate and unsuitable as a woman. It feels unrecoverable. I hate that this is a part of my story. A part of who I am and where I’ve been. It’s a picture and realization of how I’ve compartmentalized my life. How I’m split in my mind and how I think. I don’t always merge my experiences into one category. It’s life now and the secret life of “then.” But the reality is, it’s still all me. And some things are still going on. But when they happen they get put into the box labeled “then” and I shut the lid and look away. I pretend it isn’t still happening and I re-enter the world of “now.” Today, the two worlds crashed together in one small space and I saw it and it shocked and rocked me. I realized the magnitude of my life and what has happened to me and the consequences I must now live with. I don’t know how to process it. I feel like I need a new box.

Thoughts Before I Die…

I am somewhat hesitant to write here again. The last time I did I suffered a great physical consequence for revealing what I did. My every movement is watched. Every word is heard. Sometimes, time goes by and nothing happens. All is quiet. And I tiptoe out of the dark and test the waters. I’ve shared with only one person, though, and only what I felt I could get away with. I have pushed the boundaries and spoken the forbidden sometimes in those conversations. Sometimes, I can’t hold it in. It just comes out. And sometimes I’ve had to endure great pain after I talk, to keep that person safe. I revealed too much. How do they know? I wonder that often. Maybe they don’t and just say they do. Maybe they just watch where I go and assume. Maybe there’s a part of me programmed to tell. I wonder if that is a thing? I’m afraid to risk it, though, and test the system or see if it’s just a bluff to continue their control over me. I will always choose the consequence for me instead of the threat against him. I’m used to consequences. It’s the way it has always been. It’s worth it to keep the pain on me. I’ve known it all my life.

I’m facing death. According to my doctors I should be gone by now. My body and brain is ravaged with disease. I’m not even surprised. I was at first, but it settled in and I accept it. I can feel it. Some days are really hard and I wonder “how much longer?” Maybe its for the best. I don’t think it will be very long until my time comes to an end. And because of this, I don’t care anymore or how they hurt me. I have things to say. Every part of me inside wants a voice and I want them to speak. I’m trying not to be afraid of them anymore. I want to go knowing. I’ve pushed their voices away forever. I’m writing them again until their words stop coming or I am gone and can no longer hear or listen. Sometimes, writing is the only thing that comforts me.

I took my daughter cave exploring last weekend. She is learning about the earth, rocks, and formations in science. I researched a long time to find the right place for her and myself. She is still a little peanut and my strength is limited. I knew I couldn’t do any crazy hikes, as much as I wanted to. We traveled about 2 hours to the cave. It was touristy, but perfect for her. What I didn’t anticipate is what would resurface as I descended down into the earth with her. It took about .2 seconds for my brain to feel completely electric with memory after memory.

As we were going down into the tunnel which led into the cave, I thought of something I had remembered before, but more detail was there. It was vivid and clear. I was a young girl, the same age as my daughter now, being driven in the middle of the night in a black car. I was by myself with a strange man. He drove me into a dark tunnel. There were lights at first, but as we turned around a bend we began to go down and the lights changed and it became darker and darker. A new detail appeared. The walls were concrete. The ground was concrete. There were metal bars that ran horizontally along them…like handrails. Rows and rows of metal handrails on the walls…

At the bottom of the stairs, we moved into the cave. My daughter grabbed my hand and pulled me forward with her. The memory continued in my head. I was removed from the back of the vehicle and led into another tunnel. The walls were stone. The floor was stone. Just as I was seeing now. I remember my heart pounding as I was being led through a barely lit hallway. They put me in a room that was stone everywhere. It looks like a giant dungeon. There were rocks on the walls. The floor was cold and hard. I was undressed and put into a white gown, naked underneath. I was taken further down the hall. I remember my feet freezing as I walked without shoes. My stomach hurt. I started crying in fear. I couldn’t stop. Deep, deep sobs. I couldn’t catch my breath. Tears so thick I couldn’t see where I was being led. We stopped walking and I continued to cry. Trying so hard to stop but I had no control over my body and couldn’t comprehend what was happening to me. The man’s grip tightened around my arm and I was instructed to stop crying, I tried. I really did. I couldn’t. I sniffed. I gasped for air. He grabbed both shoulders and shook me and screamed. It shocked me and I vomited. And he beat me. He beat me onto the ground, my face laying where I threw up. The memory stops there.

I tried hard to stay present in the cave. To see what my daughter was seeing and to hear what she was hearing. I shoved down what was happening and re-engaged my focus on her. We continued down more stairs, deeper into the cave. There was a deep roaring sound that got louder as we continued. It was coming from a waterfall. We could barely hear each other speak. As we went further down again, the sound of the water faded away. There was a moment where our tour guide wanted to demonstrate what total darkness felt like deep down in the earth. She shut off all sources of light and everyone became very quiet. I felt my daughter move in close to me. Total darkness. Your eyes can’t adjust to that. It’s so black. The silence was unbelievable as everyone stood so still not daring to move. Flashes went off in my head. One after another. I could hear them…like the sound of an old fashioned camera flash. Pain shot down my arms and legs. And the lights were turned back on. It was a body memory, I think, but I don’t have a picture of it yet.

What went through my head next was new to me. I was sitting in a row with four other girls. We were learning a color code and repeating a phrase as each color was shown. We each had to take a turn answering. If you did not do it right, you were taken out. I did not say it right. I didn’t know how. This was my first time playing this game and I didn’t know the rules. I was pulled out of my chair and out of the room. I was beaten again for failing and taken to another man. I remember next laying inside a cage…there were rows of cages. I was naked and laying on the floor curled up in a ball. I was alone and was frozen. I couldn’t move. I don’t know what happened next or what happened before I was put in there.

As we neared the end of the cave tour, there was one last space we entered that was set up as a wedding chapel…300 ft underground. It was dark, and cold, and not at all romantic or even wedding like. And it reminded me of being raped over and over on a stone table as a young girl in a dark, cold room such as that. I had remembered this before. My father was there. There were six men and they each had a turn. I remember sitting alone on the edge of the table afterwards feeling so much pain and wanting to die.

I feel that now too. Deep in my soul. I just want to be done. I want to cry some nights when I can’t fall asleep. I don’t know how to. My body knows it’s not supposed to. It has been a very long time since a tear has fallen down my cheek. I feel like I’m frozen again. Just waiting for the end.

I didn’t anticipate what happened that day at the cave. I was only thinking about creating memories for my daughter. I hope I was present enough. I remember most of the cave and I remember her joy. I don’t regret going. I may regret sharing, but time will tell on that one. But honestly, I don’t really care if something happens for telling my secrets anymore. I suddenly feel obligated to all the little parts of me to acknowledge their pain and suffering. I’m trying to honor them. I know I don’t matter to the world, but they matter to me. I’ve only begun listening to them and letting them speak and show me the pictures of what has happened to them. I wanted so much as a child to have someone save me and listen to me and believe me. No one ever did. I will for them now until I can no longer.

Weapons of Silence…

I’ve been very cautious with my words lately. It is frightening to speak, and to write. It seems when I do, something happens to silence me. But I’m beginning to feel a pressure build up. My head is too full. My feelings too strong. I’ve lost the ability to fully dissociate and pack things away for long lengths of time. It’s exhausting. The voices inside my head are loud and other parts of me are taking over more and more, intruding into my life, wanting to be seen and heard. I push back hard, attempting to silence them. I feel like I’m losing control.

The other day an image from my childhood came to me. I feel much like the pheasant being hunted in the Disney movie, Bambi. She is hiding in the grass, knowing the hunter is getting closer and closer. She feels terror and can’t stay still. It’s too much. Other birds tell her…don’t fly…don’t fly…but she can’t take the pressure and she flies out of the grass and she exposes herself and is shot and dies. That is what I feel and fear will happen to me.

I’ve had many warnings when I have tried to “fly.” I have learned not to speak. Not to expose. Not to tell the secrets of my soul. They have mostly worked, as well. I felt strong and brave once. Not anymore. So, I don’t speak. I don’t know how long I can do this, though. I’m restless. I’m scared. But I can’t take it much longer. I feel it in my bones. I know they’ll come after me. I know it will hurt. But…the pressure…

Truth. Exposure. I must fly. I don’t think I care anymore if I die.

Twilight…

The sky beyond the forest was an eerie color of turquoise-green. The trees were black, like shadows. I could hear the men arguing. They wrestled and fought as I watched. He pulled out his knife and stabbed him. Over and over. I watched as he screamed in pain and fell over. They stood over him, and talked. My small body began shaking and strong hands grabbed me and I was taken away.

I remembered this incident as I recently walked out of a store at dusk. The wind was blowing, just like that night, and the sky was blue-green in the distance. As I stared at it, the pictures flooded into my head and took my breath away. I stood there frozen. My husband pulled my arm and led me to the car.  I have not been able to stop seeing this and the pictures become clearer each time it cycles through my thoughts.

Rainbows and Butterflies…

I was walking outside yesterday and started listening to a podcast. Lavar Burton, a famous actor, was being interviewed. I was thinking as I listened it was weird that I didn’t recognize his name given the amount of accolades this man has earned in the television and Hollywood worlds and his connection to shows that were a large part of my childhood. I didn’t get very far in the interview, however, before I reached my home and shut it off.

Later in the day, I was sitting in my car waiting to pick my daughter up from school. It had been over a week since I had spent any time online reading news updates. I surfed around and eventually opened twitter. The first thing in my feed is a long thread about…Lavar Burton. This was a very weird coincidence seeing this man’s name twice in only a few hours when I had zero recollection of ever hearing about him before. This immediately peaked my interest…because I know, when these types of things happen, they are not really coincidences.

As I read through the thread, tears started flowing. My heart raced, and pictures of torture flashed through my head. I was chained to a bed. I was strapped to a chair. Lights flashed as my body seared in shock and pain. Bright lights flashed around me. I was naked and running. I was holding a bleeding baby…and then the music started playing through my head…

“Butterfly in the sky…I can go twice as high…”

…Images of blue butterflies, rainbows, and swirling black lines spinning in a spiral danced in my brain. I saw images flash of a woman with long, straight, dark hair sitting in a chair across from me. She quizzed me and punished me if I didn’t respond the way she wanted me too.  I had to repeat numbers, listen to ring tones, repeat phrases in a language I can hear in my head but do not understand today. Command after command after command…

I don’t know what any of this means. The things I see in my head are so out of this world sometimes but also so familiar and command so much attention. Once the images arrive, they never go away. I see them continuously. I sift through them as my days go on trying to understand what my brain is showing me. I don’t know what to think about myself anymore. I can’t put together a full picture or event, which just leaves me more confused and scared. I’m tired. I want to understand what I am feeling and seeing. I don”t know how.

Stranger in the Dark…

I feel like I’m being controlled. I don’t feel like myself. I cannot fall asleep even though my body is desperate for it. And if I do fall asleep, I do not stay there. When I was a child, I was purposefully sleep deprived. I have wondered if this has affected my sleep now as an adult. But this feels different. Like I’m once again being deprived of the rest and sleep I need as some sort of punishment.

My brain wants to do certain things to bring my body back to a place of health. But another part of my brain prevents me from action. It’s instructive and serious in tone. I am not “allowed” to pursue good for myself. I crave healthy food. But when I reach for it, I immediately switch to rejecting it. So now I rarely eat. I try, but it doesn’t go down. But foods that will go down are components of past abuse…foods used to lure, persuade, and traumatize. I don’t even want them. But sometimes, they are all my body will accept.

I crave movement and nature. But fear keeps me inside. Exhaustion keeps me still. If I push against the resistance and go out and move, my body aches for days afterwards, a punishment for trying to forge my own way. It’s little incentive to keep pushing. But my body needs the strength. It’s deteriorating.

My ears are ringing and swooshing constantly. My head pulses in pain for days and my eyes itch. I have had these symptoms before…long ago. Why are they back now? What do they mean? My muscles ache. My joints hurt. My energy is non existent. I try to find things to help. Nothing works. My body resists good.

I don’t know exactly when, but I switched. Like a light switch on the wall flipped off. Everything is dark again. No matter how much I want to do and be different, I cant. The force against me is strong. Maybe it’s depression rearing it’s ugly head in a way I have not yet experienced. But it feels different. It doesn’t feel like me…not even depressed me. I know me. Right now, this is not me. I don’t know who I am or who is in control.

Speak Little Ones…

C’mon baby girl…just cry.

C’mon little one…it’s ok.

C’mon sweet child…hold my hand.

C’mon teenager…you can be brave.

C’mon young adult…fight through the fog.

C’mon beautiful, strong woman…you can do hard things.

I know you feel stuck, because I do too. I know you have so much to say but are too scared. I’m scared too. But I want to know our story. We can do this. We can get through this. We can find safety and be free. Tell me what I need to know. Help me put the puzzle pieces together. Show me everything. I don’t want to be confused anymore. We can do hard things together. We can write a new story for ourselves. We can be free. Don’t be afraid. Just speak.

I’ve Had Enough…

This past week has been very hard. My body is worn and hurting, as is my emotional and mental state. I am trying to calm myself down as best as I know how, but also allow myself to feel what needs to be felt. I am still numb and feel like I’m just a shell of nothing. I feel disrupted and off balance inside and the voices in my mind have decided to share with me more things that have happened in my past. I’ve resisted listening and accepting for the most part, and have forced myself out into the sunshine daily, to the gym, and the pool with my kids as distractions. It has helped some, but the event of last week still stings.

I was walking today and was approached by a man who appeared to be in his 60’s, driving a dark blue, mid sized SUV. I didn’t recognize him and thought maybe he was a neighbor until he rolled down his window and said “I’ve been watching you walk around. I have a message for you…” Instinct kicked in immediately and I knew this was a bad situation. I looked straight into his eyes and said fiercely, “I do not consent to anything. I refuse to comply with any command you attempt to give me. If you don’t leave me alone, or follow me again, I will use every power and resource I have to blow the roof off of this bullshit operation and will start publicly naming names.” I spun around and walked away. I don’t know what happened to him or where he went. I never turned around to see. I was too afraid of what might come next so I just kept my eyes focused straight ahead and went home and locked all the doors.

My entire body burned with anger…BURNED. I am tired of the pursuits. The assaults. The  manipulating attempts by my family, my husband, and whoever these people are, to scare me into submission and silence. I am done. DONE. I want my life back…I want my life! I want freedom and safety and calm. The assault in my home last week has been eating at me, and this and that experience have really opened the floodgates of emotion and rebellion inside of me. I do not want to live in this fear anymore. I do not want to be controlled. I have to escape all of this. Somehow.

I wish I had engaged a little more…because now, in hindsight, I’m curious about what he was going to say to me. But deep down I know that would have been playing with fire. I know in my childhood, I was taught to behave certain ways on command. I know I was trained to do things I did not want to do. I know I am still  accessed and triggered today to self harm, comply, react, and recoil into silence. I’ve accepted it and haven’t really fought it. I’ve felt that I could never win or get away. I tried so many times in my past only to be chased and reigned back in.

I’m not going to shut this blog down. I’m not going to stop talking about what my body is revealing to me. I am not going to shrink into a ball (as much) anymore and bury things deep down inside. At one time I could. It was immediate and natural. Now my body fights me when I do. It doesn’t stay quiet. Even when I desperately want it all to just go away, it refuses.

I feel the need to say I am not suicidal. I am not willingly or purposefully acting in self destructive ways. I am not planning to run away or disappear. I love my children and will not intentionally leave them or abandon them. If I disappear or go missing, it is not on purpose and should immediately be considered suspicious. I need all of this to end. I need to heal and find health and freedom and safety. I need to figure out how to get away from this evil.

The Compliant One…

Five days ago I was aggressively raped. I awoke to the man completely smothering my body. His arms were so tightly wrapped around me I could not move. The weight of his body crushed my lungs. He kept me tightly bound while he maneuvered himself inside of me. My body and soul died right then and there. My brain was screaming to fight…for the love of God…FIGHT!! Why aren’t you fighting?!?

I’ve been trying to process this. But I don’t know how. I am a shell of nothingness. Why does this keep happening? Will I ever be safe? I don’t know who this man was. I fell asleep while my husband was out working. And at first I thought it was him. But this body felt very different. The breathing was different. This was not like his typical middle of the night sneak attack…but it was incredibly familiar as well. I had an immediate feeling of fear and intensity I cannot even describe. But it disappeared fast as I left my body and endured. The one’s inside of me took over.

I heard his voice whisper “We have always loved you…”  This time he sounded like my husband. My brain was feeling confused. I didn’t understand what was happening to me or what he was saying to me. My body was under attack, yet I felt like I was watching it happen from afar. I was saying to myself, “get out of this!” Yet, I watched myself comply to his commands as if I was a child again. I was conscious, but I wasn’t. The little girl inside took over. And then I remember darkness…and the sound of the front door shutting.

I laid there stunned for what felt like hours, maybe it was, I don’t know. Agonizing pain pulsed through my body and my heart pounded violently out of my chest. My husband walked in to our room and silently climbed into bed. I didn’t move a muscle. Was that him? No, it wasn’t him…he wouldn’t take things that far…but he has before…but he wouldn’t now…would he? Fear filled me…what just happened to me??

Tears dripped down my cheeks until the sun came up. I am still a shell of nothingness…

Not So Secret Admirers…

Am I imagining you? Is this paranoia? Am I mentally breaking down? Am I crazy?

To the man who followed me home from my therapy appointment. I saw you. To the same man who followed me while I drove my children to school. I SAW you. To the SAME man with dark hair and glasses, driving the white Honda Pilot. I SEE you. I see you when you drive past my home. I see you in the parking lot at church. I see you everywhere you try to pretend you are not. I have dozens of pictures of you. What are you learning? What is so interesting about me? What are you doing to me as you follow me around??

To the person who calls my home and rings my phone three times and then hangs up. I hear you. To the person who calls my cell and leaves voice messages I NEVER listen to. I see you. To the person who texts me about things you know I’m researching. I SEE you too. Why are you so interested in me? What do you want to know? What are you trying to say to me??

To my husband. Stop asking me where I am. Stop trying to track my phone. Stop asking me if I arrived at my destination. Stop texting me all day long to “check in” and see what I’m doing. Stop asking me what I am typing. Stop telling me to share what I talked about in therapy. Stop finding ways to be in charge of our kids so I am trapped at home doing chores for you. STOP trying to anticipate, see, and control my every move. You do not own me.

To the voice in my head telling me to run. I am aware of you. To the other voice telling me to self destruct and self harm. I am aware of your existence too. To the voice of evil that harasses me in the night…I hear you. To the voice telling me it’s time to go home. I am fighting you. I will never go back.

To the woman who sent lily of the valley flowers to my bible study. Thank you for invading my space and triggering me. To the man who stared me down in Target and followed me out of the store. The image of your face is burned into my brain.

None of you own me. You may succeed in pacifying me. You may access and flip my progress and healing upside down. You may confuse me and renew fear inside. I must be pretty important to your game. I must know too much. Do I talk too much? Am I remembering too much? Am I too awake?? YOU WILL NOT WIN. I will kill myself first before you ever take me back. That is a guaranteed promise. You’d probably prefer that, wouldn’t you?