In and Out of Darkness - A Day in the Life of a Survivor

It's a confusing thing. Like living a double life. There's the 'normal' functioning you, and underneath it there's the dark, messed up injured you. The part that hurts. The part that knows it happened. And that's where the confusion comes in. The fact that you have to daily deny what happened and who you are in order to go through the motions of life. Is this living? I wouldn't know. People tell me it's not, but it's all I've ever known. I wonder what more there is, and I want to find out. But walking the road of healing hurts so much more than anything I've ever experienced. Yes, it hurts more than abuse.

A few weeks ago, I could use the word 'abuse' comfortably and confidently. I tried it on for size.. it sure seemed to fit. Now, I feel like I have to whisper it. I don't want to say it out loud and I don't want it applied to me. Abuse? No, I wasn't abused. I was.. I don't know what I was but it wasn't abuse. And this is how we survive. So that we don't have to face it.

I get up in the morning. I was not abused. I'm not a victim. No one wants to be a victim. I'm a normal functioning person and I get up and make breakfast for my family. Standing in the shower, water cascading down my back... "Incest." No, go away. "I'm here, and you can't turn me off. Pay attention to me." No, go away. "Don't silence me. I need to be heard." No one wants to hear you. If I cry a little in the shower, no one knows the difference. It's just water on my face.

I get dressed. Careful not to look at my body. If I say it's ugly, then I don't have to worry about anyone wanting it. Wanting to touch it. If I say it's beautiful, I feel threatened. Beauty is dangerous, it makes me vulnerable. If I can't fend off attack, if I don't know how to say no, then I don't want to be beautiful because it's too scary. I become indifferent. No one wants to hear me say I'm ugly, pointing out all my flaws and focusing on them. But I can't bear to acknowledge otherwise. What happened to the woman who was confident? The woman who looked in the mirror at her sagging belly and thought "I nurtured 5 beautiful babies in there, it has brought me so much." and felt good, happy and content in her body? Where did she go?

If I stop to think about it during the day, I might break down. I feel like a child. "You were molested." No, I wasn't.. that's gross, don't say that. What a nasty word. Besides, he is a good person and I love him. He could never do that to me. "But you know what happened, you never forgot." I was just bad. There must have been something wrong with me. After all, wouldn't I have told him to stop? Wouldn't I have wanted him to stop? I liked the attention. Something was wrong with me. "You are innocent." No, I can't be. Go away.

I get more and more distant. Locked up in my mind and my thoughts. Barely conscious of what goes on around me. "Pay attention to me. I'm still here. You can't ignore me." Yes, I can. I can and I have and I will. "No. Not anymore." Go away. I look at my children. Their innocence. Their vulnerability. My 7yo wants to kiss my lips. I don't want him to touch me. My 2yo wants to nurse and I feel violated. What's wrong with me? "I'm still here." No you're not. I hold back tears. I fall away more. Back into darkness. My body is hollow and empty. This is how I cope, this is how I hide. My 6yo wants to hug me. I let him. It feels so good, but it's so hard not to cry. My 4yo can't understand why I get so mean, he's so confused. My 8mo cries to be held and I go to my room and shut my door. I can't do it. "You have to face this." I can't. "You can't live this way." Yes, I can. If you would just go away, and leave me alone, I'd be fine. "I can't do that. Look at me." No, you're gross. You're ugly. No one wants to look at you.

I go to the store with my family. Do they know? Do these people look at me and know? No, they can't. They can't see me. I'm invisible. No one knows and no one cares. "But you know." I wish I hadn't told anyone.. my husband, my friends. This isn't the kind of thing that's supposed to be talked about. You weren't supposed to tell. "You have to tell. It's wrong." Yes, it was wrong. I was wrong. "No you weren't. You're innocent." Whatever. You don't know me. No one knows me. If they knew me, they wouldn't want me around. They'd lock me up. They'd see I'm crazy and bad and they'd lock me up. "No, they'd see you're hurt." I'm not hurt. I'm fine. Go away. If you don't go away, if you come out and show yourself, everyone I love is going to see me and want to run. They're all going to leave me, abandon me. I'll be left all alone. Then I'd be hurt. But not now. I'm fine. I'm fine.

I go to bed at night. My husband is there and I want him. I want him to touch me, to comfort me. To tell me I'm beautiful and worthwhile. "Why should he? You won't hear him." Yes, I will. I will this time. "You won't feel him. You'll shut down." No, not this time. I'm here. He touches me. It's good. He keeps going. Where am I? "You're gone." No, I'm not. I struggle to hang on. I want to be here, I want to be with him, I want him to know I love him and know that he loves me. In and out of darkness. I open my eyes and look at him. I'm here. No, I'm not, I'm distracted. I close my eyes and try to focus on what I feel. I'm here. No, I'm not. We're done. He holds me and I love the way his skin feels against mine. Warm and safe. I feel so safe in his arms. No one can hurt me. He won't hurt me. He falls asleep. I try to hold back the tears. "Let it out." No. I can't, he'll wake up and ask why I'm crying. I won't be able to tell him. I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm happy, I feel good. I feel safe. A tear rolls down my face. What's wrong with me? I'm happy. I'm crying. In and out of darkness I fall.