"My gut has been crippled with anxiety for the past five days. My appetite is nearly non-existent, and my mind is clouded. To humor those thoughts...the painful memories of being failed by loved ones...it kills my will to fight through this web. I know I must be able to separate the love I feel from the reality of the pain that was caused, the constant invalidation."For years I have put on a face of strength and acceptance around people that internally make my intestines twist. Since new memories have become more frequent and old memories increasingly vivid, it has only become harder to paint on the face each time I confronted them. This comes from an everlasting persona that requires me to be the "good girl." Part of that stems from my rapist..."Hold your tongue. Be a good girl;" the other from my loved ones, "We don't want to talk about that..." or "Are you bringing this up for attention?" or "It's in the past.." or "You have to put it behind you."
The constant denial of these reactions continue to infuriate me as well, as if they never reacted that way. It isn't as if most rape victims don't get this type of reaction; it is fairly common. Loved ones don't want to experience the horror. From After Silence by Nancy Venable Raine:
"She wanted silence, cover-up, denial. I felt at the time she was on the rapist’s side."After time, continuing to hear these statements gives rape victims doubt and perpetuates self-blame. Also from After Silence:
"'It’s over and done with.’ It wasn’t, but her saying it made me feel that she was right—I should be done with it. I can trace to this moment the first time I was aware that I hated myself—because I was dwelling on what happened, because I was overreacting. The rapist had planted the seed of his self-hatred and my solitude, like a drought, had kept that seed dormant."For this reason, I kept my mouth shut. I repeatedly told myself, He was right, no one loves me. They are right, it's not important. I'm not important. Clearly, this mantra doesn't actually work in avoiding the aftermath of rape, but I continued to fight it to prevent upsetting those around me. Continued from last night's journal:
"I have always looked to please people; to rescue them from any attacks on their being, even if it deemed necessary. Guilt overrides my ability to stand up for myself, regardless if the guilt is wrongly burdened upon my shoulders. It matters not the situation, because my fear of abandonment, my need for nurturing, will ignore the hurtful mini jabs at my personality or life choices."It was always the same pattern: Open up to a loved one, hear ridiculous commentary, they start to focus on their suffering, ask me why I had to open old wounds, and then I comfort them and say "Sorry." It's kind of bullshit really, which is why in a future post I will be covering the do's and don'ts of how to react around a rape/sexual abuse victim.
Whatever the case may be, I will do what it takes to ease the pain of those around me. This habit created very unhealthy relationships, one of them being a friend I always crawled back to, despite the crap she pulled. From my journal:
"My longest friend legitimately hurt me a number of times and I still forgave her, still trusted her. It wasn't until she attacked me as a mother, that I finally let her go. I don't know if she will ever realize how she failed me, and honestly I don't care. It is just interesting to me how I continue to give people a benefit of the doubt."I was friends with this girl for years, and we had some great times, yet I was always the supportive one. She had some serious struggles, and I was there for her, because that is what friends do. She trusted me, and I fulfilled that trust. When it came to my problems though, she would break the bond and/or reply with hurtful actions.
We would fight, I would go months without contact, but then I would be the adult by reconciling. Each time we hit a crack in our relationship, the burn on my heart would be hotter. When she said she felt sad for my child and that she hoped I would admit myself to a psych hospital, I cut her off. Now, I'm not proud for hitting rock bottom, and having suicidal thoughts, but what friend says something like that?
Needless to say, she is out of my life. I now have friends who instead of treating me like a disease, they listen and understand. These are the friends I can call when I have the knife to my skin, to talk me down without judgement. Granted, I need constant assurance that I can trust them because I was betrayed so many times:
"Since her, I have learned to measure trust with new relationships incrementally. It isn't all her fault though...I tried forming relationships of trust many times...Why am I avoiding the root of my pain? Because I'm afraid I will hurt them?"The continuance of that thought, my readers, is for the next installment.
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