Never Be Afraid to Tell the Truth: Part Two (TRIGGER WARNING! Extremely Descriptive and Sensitive Material)

Since the first entry of Never Be Afraid to Tell the Truth, I have been letting triggers speak loudly to gather the fragments I forever have shielded from my memory. Each time I felt the wave of dread, I opened my journal and described what I saw. The flashbacks I have been working through I have attempted to describe at least fifteen times, but I typically let myself get distracted to deny the pain tied in with the details, never completing the story.

Yesterday was a gorgeous day. The kind of day that puts every source of fear on the back burner for me. I soaked it in and allowed myself to build a temporary mental wall, because I didn't want anything to ruin my joy. I am aware of how easy that sounds, but believe me, it takes more strength than I can muster when accustomed to depending on alcohol and cutting to create a barrier for me. Regardless, I made a valiant effort.

While taking our son out for a long walk, I was chattering away about how amazed I was at the transformation of the scenery around us. I couldn't get over how green the grass was considering only a short while before, it had been covered by high banks of snow. My husband nodded and commented on the scent of grilling in the air. We joked about how delicious a hamburger sounded despite the fact that we were still stuffed from Easter dinner.

Then the mood changed. All it took was one trigger, and my eyes glazed over. I could see Greg waving his hand in front of my face, and hear him say, "Yoohoo! Hey! What's going on?"

"Uh, nothing, campfire...let's just keep walking...I'm fine. Really...I'm fine." Greg isn't an idiot, but he decided to let it be and we continued on our merry way. Yet, all night, that memory was playing over and over in my head until I could sit down with my journal and let the pen cry for me. As I wrote, I once again left blank lines where I would normally insert "GAP" or "STUCK POINT" to review the emotions and physical reactions tied in with revisiting the playback. From my journal:

"Today as I enjoyed the clear skies and 70 degree weather, I was sideswiped by a familiar trigger, the smell of campfire. It is awful to have a memory of rape come to mind every time a hint of the smokiness enters my nose. Up until today, I blocked out the horror because I remember focusing on nature during this particular instance. He whispers to me to, "Make an excuse, say that you are tired." So I do. He times it perfectly so no suspicion would arise."

Emotional: Anxiety, grief. Physical: Palms are sweaty and chills down my spine.

"I am now alone with him. He tells me to lay down on the bunk. He gets on top of me and starts his usual trend of forced, suffocating, tongue...he always tasted sickly sweet...like the pink fluoride you swish in your mouth in elementary school...I am staring out the window...I hear the birds...I focus on them."

Emotional: Dread, Sad, Hopelessness. Physical: Chest is tight and stomach is churning.

"He has little patience...he merely lowers my pants and underwear enough to work with. He licks his fingers and puts them inside me. The trees...focus on the trees...I escape outside my body and by then he has lowered his shorts and stuck his penis in me...The sun...focus on the sun."

Remembering that ounce of faith I had, while my body rocked back and forth under his greediness, burned a hole in my gut. I recalled the hope that someone, anyone, would save me that day. The bile boiling within me rose to my mouth, and before I could spit the acid,  I became enraged, shut my journal, and threw it across the room.