So who do you talk to when there is no one to talk to? I call the sexual assault hotline and a man answers. Yes, I understand that men get raped. I get that it would be good for them to speak to another man because of shame and other sensitive issues. I was raped by a man; I don’t want to talk to one about dealing with it when I am in crisis.
I ask to talk to a woman; the man on the other end seems put off by this request. I discovered that they are also the suicide hotline for our area. I want to talk to someone who has been assaulted and understands. I want words that carry weight because they come from someone who has been there, who has felt what I am feeling, not someone who has been trained to answer the phone.
I want to beat my head against the wall. I want to cut myself open and let the pain pour out from where it is festering. Again I have lost how to cry, I am quickly getting to the point that words get locked up behind frozen lips, fear too intense to let go. If I speak I may start to break and then risk disintegrating into insanity. If I don’t speak the evil festers in my soul and threatens my sanity every bit as intensely.
In my mind I crouch in a corner desperately seeking the protection of going unseen. In my make believe world I speak, act, work, fellowship, in a facade that apparently passes for normal. At least no one asks. Perhaps they have their own fear that they will hurt me.
No one talks about “IT” anymore. Actually no one really talked about “IT” at all once the barrage of ignorant yet accusatory questions stopped. What are they supposed to ask? Can they even enter my world that I have worked so hard to seal? Don’t I need to act a certain way and say certain things to escape the judgment that lies in wait to devour me? No judgment? No fear? Then WHY WON’T ANYBODY TALK TO ME?? Do I come across as too fragile? Are you afraid you will break me? Try it. Breaking would be better than withering away from lack of care.
Can you see me? Do you know what happened to me? Can I use the word rape in front of you? Will my pain cut you? Can I bleed anyway?
I am so tired of hurting. Is it so much to ask for healing? Must I feel this pain, this wound on my soul forever? It will get better someday? When is that day? Some days will be good and some days will be bad? What do I do with the bad days? Will I ever stop having bad days? What is the point of fighting? So I can live to have another painful day? Maybe I have a good day now and then. There are not enough to outweigh the bad days. I feel no hope. In my future there is more re-experiencing, there is more pain and I am too exhausted from the battles to keep up with the war.