I think something every victim is waiting for is for some higher power to come down from the skies and say the words, “You are forgiven. It is not your fault.” That’s the hardest part of the recovery process in my opinion. It is very hard to accept that you had no control over the situation. That there is nothing you could have done but survive. I certainly haven’t accepted that. I doubt I ever will.
The other thing that I want is a chance to confront P. Now that I’m strong and independent, I’m not afraid of him anymore. I wish I could make him face what he did to me. I know this isn’t ever going to happen either though. Even if I ever did speak with him again, I doubt he would listen. He would turn my words against me and make it my fault most likely.
So I’m at a loss. The two things I need to move beyond this are basically impossible to achieve. I will never accept that I was a mere victim, that I could not have changed the situation and saved myself. I am also never going to get to see my abuser feel any regret or remorse for what he has done. So how do I move beyond this? Where is closure found? Where is inner peace found? I’ve been searching for the answers to these questions for over 2 years now. I haven’t come any closer to finding them. I wonder if I ever will.
Sometimes I feel mired in a blur of the past, present and future. All three mix together and send my mind into a whirlwind. Emotions seem to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is real, or a residual affect of something that happened long, long ago.
I don’t trust my mind. Well, I should more say I don’t trust my heart. I have full faith in my logical, rational brain. But you can’t live your life based on facts on figures. Making personal decisions from a solely logical standpoint will leave you sad and alone. The reality is that statistically the chances of a person betraying/hurting you is ridiculously higher than them being a positive influence on your life. So why do we have human interaction at all? There is so much risk every time we open ourselves up to someone else, but we do it anyways. There is just some deep biological aspect of our species that can’t tolerate being alone. I suppose it comes from the fact that there is survival in numbers, so evolution has driven us together rather than apart. But together we still manage to destroy one another. Quite the paradox.
That was a little bit of a tangent from the original point I was trying to make. My mind is a little all over the place these days. I guess you never know where writing is going to take you until you’re there. Or life for that matter.
I seem to have this reaction towards any small amount of emotion that tells my mind to run as far away as fast as you can. Last night I strongly considered ending it with K, simply because I can tell I’m starting to like him. I don’t want to care. When you care you are vulnerable and that’s the problem. My subconscious fights against vulnerability with all of its might. My brain knows what happened the last time I was in a compromised position. It is willing to do anything to keep that from happening again.
It is so much safer and easier to be numb to the outside world. A protective, impregnable wall surrounds my heart. Keeping anything remotely dangerous out. Keeping me safe. Keeping me alive. The truth is if I allowed myself to feel, I’m not sure I could handle it. There’s so much pain locked away from the past and so much uncertainty stemming from the future. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to bleed like that. That level of emotion might drive me insane.
Granted, I’m not completely void of everything. Just the really strong feelings. I still smile and laugh. I’m still happy. I’m just in a very protected state. A sort of lock down that won’t let anything remotely dangerous in. That’s why K is a problem. He’s dangerous. I know it. I want to run.
I realize how crazy this all probably makes me sound. I don’t really want to be like this. But so far it’s what I’ve had to do to live with what happened to me. I’d rather be living than dying. And I honestly think the pain could have killed me if I chose to handle it a different way. For so long my life has just been about surviving. Now that I’m finally living, I fear jeopardizing that more than anything.
It’s the fight from within, a battle to survive
No one knows the storm that’s brewing inside
A smile on your face, shine out to the world
Auras of perfection radiating from the perfect girl
But behind closed doors you crack, behind closed doors you break
That beautiful mask crumbles from your face
Fall to your knees, curl up on the floor
Feel the raw pain surging from your core
Unable to move, trapped by the heavy weight of night
No longer able to find the will to fight
Succumbing to many a sleepless hour, fitful tosses and turns
The emptiness inside continues to burn
Finally you’ve had enough, shining eyes turn to the sky
The first rays of dawn signal a brand new day
A newfound strength, discovered in the orange glow
A courage to face the world with a broken heart in tow
I read through some of my old posts today. I don’t think I ever realized quite how sad and tormented I sounded sometimes. I desperately tried to shine a positive light on my situation, but it was fleeting and I failed miserably. My struggle came from the fact that I could not express what I was feeling in words. No amount of adjectives could properly describe the agony. Raw, broken, empty, numb, lifeless. There is no word that can properly depict that level of pain.
It’s been almost exactly two years since the last time I saw P. Am I pathetic for still being tortured by what I went through? I am pretty happy. My life has gotten progressively better since that fateful day that I walked away. I have regular slumps, but everything seems to be in an upward trend. This is just during the day though. At night, I can’t fight anymore and the memories come rolling back. Something about the quiet darkness opens the flood gates. It’s still just as painful, not raw anymore but I hurt so much on the inside.
Sometimes I wish I could talk to him. I wish I could ask why and get him to explain. I want to know if he actually remembers what he did to me. If he was lying when he says he was blacked out and has no idea. I want to know if there is any amount of remorse or regret. I just don’t understand his mind, what happened and why it all got so bad. And I think one of the most frustrating parts of trying to heal are all of these unanswered questions. The sad truth is I’m never going to get any closure. Those questions are going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
Time to start blogging again. For previous followers, look to my About Me for an update on my life. Things have changed, as they always do. Another failed relationship has me frustrated. A string of bad dates and I’m wondering what on Earth is wrong with me. Oh right, most men can’t handle the 20 year old college graduate thing. I’m starting to wonder if anything is ever going to work out. I intimidate a lot of people. I don’t even know why, because I’m an extremely accepting person. Being really smart shouldn’t make you a social pariah. But for some reason it does…
I currently have the next year off. I’m applying to medical school. I already got accepted to a program that was half in Australia and half in the United States, but it’s way too expensive for me ($80,000+/year). I am super bored, and I feel like my brain is rotting. I’m not in school for the first time in 18 years, and it just feels so wrong to not be learning. It’s what I’m good at after all. I’m also living at home with my parents, which really sucks. I love my family, but the lack of privacy after 4 years on your own is extremely frustrating.
I really need to actually keep up with writing this time. Back in the day, I was pretty good at it. It’s also a fantastic outlet for my boredom and frustration with life at the current moment. And, since I’m being honest right now, I’m still having a lot of issues when it comes to P. It’s literally been two years, and I still can’t shake it. I would say I’m doing better than when I started this journey, but the memories still haunt me every night.
“It’s not about forgetting the past, it’s about accepting the past.”
I was going to write a blog post, but the words won’t come. What I am feeling can’t be typed out. I expect in two weeks time I will begin to be able to sort through all this. For now, I leave you all with a quote:
“I think hell is something you carry around with you, not somewhere you go.”