Dr. C. ended our session by telling me to write about how I don’t feel as though I deserve to feel upset about what happened because I “just need to take responsibility.” So, I wrote about it for the next session. I wrote about it to better understand what I was experiencing and feeling. I wrote about it because something inside of me is still very much hurting and not okay.
“I don’t deserve to be upset or to feel sad or any other grief-type feeling. I just need to take responsibility.”
I recognize how judgmental that sounds. I can hear the old voice in it. I can see where that voice comes from. Every action requires that I take responsibility, or, more specifically, that I accept the punishment or consequences that follow. Most of the time, I find physical punishment much more desirable. I can tolerate that because there is an eventual end. When there is no punishment, the guilt and shame are never-ending. That kills me.
“It happened again – it changed things. I walked a road I never wanted to.”
My memory of the second rape is one of shame. I HATE that my memory of that second time involved pleasure with the pain. And I HATE that the person who raped me commented on the obvious pleasure. It’s like the pleasure IS the traumatic part. Pleasure shouldn’t be traumatic, but as I have said so many times before, it isn’t that simple. Nonetheless, the fact that it wasn’t just something I could loathe or fear makes me feel like I’m going crazy. It was something that hurt but also felt good enough to make me want to experience it again.
And they were more than happy to continue to have sex with me, just as they were happy to have sex with anyone they chose. I saw time and time again that no one could say no to them, and I ended up in that same trap. The desire seemed like the new problem, not them raping me. I know it’s normal to have desire and to experience pleasure, but it wasn’t something I wanted at that time or with that person. That choice was initially taken from me. But after that, I felt as though I couldn’t control the desire. I feel as though I need to take responsibility for the lack of control I exhibited, and with responsibility comes “taking the consequences.”
It’s confusing for me. I know I am partially attacking my 25-year-old. I’m not trying to. I also still feel as though I am attacking myself now. I struggle with whether desire is right or wrong as a 43-year-old. I struggle to accept my current desires, related to sex or not. Why do desires seem so bad?! I want to express my rage that this was and is my experience. I feel like I want to sob over the whole experience, and I still feel like that just isn’t a possibility. None of it makes sense. It is just a confusing mess, and I feel like I need to sort some of it out. It’s a tangled knot, and I need to find the individual strings.
I spent a lot of time thinking through that response, but when I read it, I realized it didn’t quite capture what I was still grappling with. I sat with it for days. I wrote down different thoughts to work through to determine what might be true, or what might still be the cause of the inner turmoil.
- I’m afraid I’m still that person. I’m afraid of being that person. I’m afraid that if I am that person, I can’t handle that truth.
- What if I was and am a weak person? Does that make me a terrible person?
- I was trying to do the right thing, but it doesn’t seem like the right thing. It feels like a huge mistake. I’m terrified of making mistakes. I’m terrified of consequences.
- Shouldn’t there be a punishment?
None of those things seem to hit the nail on the head either. I know when I first started therapy with Dr. C., I could not tolerate the thought of what had happened. I had nothing but hate for myself and the decisions I made. I was stuck, seemingly unable to think of anything other than that I was a colossal screw-up. I used to have near-constant flashbacks about the same incident, and each time that happened, I would desperately seek a way to beat myself up. I would physically abuse myself or emotionally and mentally assault myself. It was all I could think of to make it feel better. That same flashback is gone. The hatred over that one incident isn’t there. But there is desperation still. I feel furious and sad, and I just can’t let myself express those emotions.
I received a voice message from someone I am very close to while sitting in Dr. C.’s waiting room. This person was drawing a parallel between the trauma they had experienced and what I have written about (not comparing – we are very intentional about that), specifically the confusion that comes with pleasure and pain (in whatever form that comes in). While listening to this message, I started sobbing. You see, I have read others’ stories of trauma and listened to first-hand accounts of terrible traumas, but I have been feeling so alone in my experience. This one less-than-5-minute message made me feel like someone understood the shame, hatred, loneliness, confusion, and desire to make it all go away – erase it.
By the time I was sitting on Dr. C.’s couch, I had mostly dried my tears and pulled myself together, but I was also feeling like I was fighting some other demon. I was feeling rage and extreme grief, and I did not want that to seep out. It isn’t that I am stuck in a self-hate bubble. I am a little stuck on he confusion part, but I think I also feel safe being confused rather than angry and sad. And there it is. What the h*ll do you do with YEARS of that level of anger that you have kept turned on yourself? What do you do with years of grief that you ignored? It all has to come out, but how do you do that safely?
And while I am trying to figure out how to manage those emotions, Dr. C. points out that my identity is tied up in the confusion. “What if the confusion just is?” What happens if I just let myself feel confused and let it go? What happens when all of this no longer defines me?
“Write about what your life would be like without this person in your life.” This is no small assignment. I genuinely have no idea, but I will try to imagine my life free of the physical triggers, emotional pain, flashbacks, and nightmares, etc. I will try to imagine a life in which this was just some speed bump. And I will keep you updated.
Burn the Boat! 