Anniversary

On this very night, New Years Eve two years ago, I experienced a "scary situation" (I'm still not quite sure what to call it, so call it what you will). This was the triggering event that finally opened the floodgates, unlocked Pandora's box, and shined the light on my life. All of my past experiences of abuse and assault came rushing back with such unstoppable power. This was the beginning of my treacherous and labile healing journey that I am just now beginning to navigate. For that reason alone, I am glad it happened. This is the story...

It was NYE 2009. My roommates and I decided to throw another epic party at a local bar just couple of blocks from our apartment. We had a great time the year before and it couldn't have been any easier! It was a relatively inexpensive party that included kegs of beer, all you can drink well liquor/all you can eat appetizers and a champagne toast at midnight with ~30 of our closest friends. We knew the bar owner from working down the street from my best friend's salon. We had the perfect apartment for people to crash at and we would all go out to eat for breakfast the next day. I was wearing a knee-length cute grey dress with light brown 70's style slouch boots with buckles on the side, curled my long blond hair, and borrowed some jewelry from my roommate. The party itself was a blast. We had drinking game stations around the bar-beer-pong, flip-cup (canoe for those of you), quarters, and just card games all spread out. The TVs were all going with the different networks' NYE footage. Good food, good company, and good times all around. Once midnight struck, the night changed. Some guests of our friends got a little out of hand and drank too much. There was vomit on the bar, on the floor in the bathroom, in the sink in the bathroom...just a disaster. Last year we all helped clean up- since the owner did us a huge favor by allowing us to throw such a crazy party, we stayed and helped him. This year, it was suggested that everyone just leave. As all the folks were rounded up to stumble back to our apartment, I decide to quickly use the bathroom. No big deal, everyone was still standing around the bar. Cue twilight zone theme song...
I walk out of the bathroom and everyone had left. I see the door across the room slam shut with all of my friends walking down the street. I see the bar owner and his daughter cleaning up, looking disgruntled. I thank them both, apologize again for the disaster, and offer to stay and help while grabbing my coat and scarf. After all he was a relatively trusted business owner who had helped us have a great time two years in a row. I felt guilty. He said no it's alright, we'll clean tomorrow, come have another drink. I really shouldn't, but alright, thank you. Another vodka tonic with lime. *text messages from friends "where are you?" "Still here, [Sal] is a chatty Kathy tonight come help me!" "Alright have one drink then get out of there!" "I can't I'm stuck here come back." As his daughter finished counting her tips, he fed me more drinks "you don't turn down free booze." His daughter leaves and the next thing I know it's two hours later and [Sal] locks the doors. I see a police squad car drive by...he waves to the cop and sits back down next to me at the bar. It's now around 3 am. **text messages "Are you still there?" "yes help me." He proceeds to tell me how great of a business owner he is, how all the others in our town suck and that they'll all eventually fail. He, of course, will never fail because he knows everyone and has all the cops on his side....he's basically untouchable. Meanwhile, he begins to come on to me. "Help!! Please get me out of here" .... "Help!" "Help!!" to three of my friends. Hand on my thigh, brushing my cheek, playful shove. -he was in his late 40's/early 50's and I in my early-mid twenties...I was not okay with this. I however, had been drinking heavily for nearly 6 hours. ~side note, I always fight the effects of alcohol. I always wanted to be in control. I would, unfortunately, fight so hard that I wouldn't know when I was at my limit. I would surpass buzz and go straight to wasted because I just fought it.~ His come-ons were getting much stronger. I would try to avoid him but he had to be close to 6 feet tall. *parts of this a bit blurry... at some point he presses my body against the bar and has the scarf that's wrapped around my neck in his hands. He kisses me. I remember his scratchy beard and middle-aged man tongue...I tell him to stop; politely at first but he continued. He tries to reach under my dress and I desperately shout "I'm the same age as your daughter, are you picturing her right now?" He tells me that's disgusting and to shut up. "You're old enough to be my father." I try to slip passed him but his weight is pressed against me, with the bar behind me and two bar chairs on either side of us. He tells me to be quiet and just relax. As he takes a brief breath from eating my face...I pull my face away from his, and say I have to pee. He says, yeah, so does he...
I had to use the men's room because the women's had vomit everywhere. I try to compose myself in there and make a plan. I tear up as I look at my drunken reflection in the mirror, "how the hell am I gonna get out of here...he locked the doors." In my drunken state I remembered that the lock was above the glass on the door pushed into the door frame. I put on my best sober face and walk out, coat on, and scarf straightened. My feet hurt. Thank GOD he really did have to pee. As soon as he closed the bathroom door, I ran to the door, figured out how to unlock it and bolted. I ran down the block with the bars, shops, restaurants and salon...turn the corner out of sight from his bar...cross the train tracks, and run home...in my cute boots. Tears are streaming down my face. It's maybe 4 in the morning. Two squad cars drive right past me...
I get to my apartment and everyone is passed out. I go to my bedroom and all I want to do is go to bed....but two drunken idiots decide they would get lucky in my room and lock my door! I break down, fall to the floor pounding on the door, sobbing uncontrollably. I crawl to my roommate's room. Somebody's sleeping on the floor, I wake her and her boyfriend up. "Who's in my room?" crying..."Who the hell is in my room? Get them out!" In their drunkenness they try to help. Finally whoever was in there leaves. I am still uncontrollably crying. "Are you crying?" "Yeah" "Why what happened? What time is it?" I tell her briefly what happened and she sits down next to me on my bed. "Do you want me to help you change? Are you okay? Did he rape you? What do you want...I have no idea what to do...what do you ..? I'm sorry I'm drunk...I have no idea how to help you." "Just leave, I'm fine. No he didn't rape me. Yes it scared the shit out of me. No I have no idea why. Just go...I'm fine." "Are you sure? I'm so sorry, I just...I have no..." "Just get out. All I want to do is go to bed."
I pass out fully clothed, with my cute boots still on.

The next morning...I find a condom wrapper on the floor and I just cry again.
We all go out to breakfast. My roommate pays for me out of pity.
Everyone leaves, we come back to the apartment and I just lock myself in my room all day.
My journal entry that day begins with.... "I'm off to a swimming start this year. Definitely something to be proud of...Happy Fucking New Year!"


.......

I started seeing a wonderful social worker three weeks later who specializes in sexual assault, sexual abuse and domestic violence. I realized I have a long history of sexual (and other) abuse.
None of my friends ever went back to that restaurant/bar. Nobody spoke to him ever again. His business shut down a little over one year later. He looked like shit, aged 20 years, and lost his OTHER job as well. I'm glad his business failed. Is that bad? There are other things rumored about him and his family...but those are just harsh and mean-true or not. I'm just glad I don't see him around town anymore.

That's my story. If you read it all, thank you.

~SS

Next stop crazy town

Yesterday was rough. I often get these waves of darkness that completely consume me. I call them crazy train...well actually a friend dubbed them crazy train. They have died down over the last year or so. Now they only last about an hour or two (followed by some recovery time). They used to knock me out for a full day or even longer. All I can do is curl up and close my eyes. Sometimes I'll sob and cry that really hard cry that gives you a headache, blotchy face, and puffy eyes for 2 days. I find it incredibly ironic that the "happiest time of year" brought out such dread and darkness in me.

This is a text message that I sent to my best friend describing how it feels: me-...Sorry I just wanted to make a connection with somebody. her-:( :( :( whats going on in ur head today? me-A lot of scary stuff. Its like some evil being is right inside of me covering me with a dark heavy blanket and I literally feel like I will never be happy again, like I won't make it. Its like a weight is sitting on me reminding me of how terrible I am. It whispers so many things to me like "you are so disgusting, how could anyone give a shit about you, you are pathetic, you are so unlovable, you are such a worthless filthy little girl." and I'm defenseless against it.

When these crazy train moments occur, I usually send out apology text messages to my closest friends. I apologize for things like-being an idiot, being an embarrassment, for being a failure as a friend, for making them put up with me, and even for being a burden in that moment when they are talking to me. Sometimes I really wonder why or how they put up with me. I truly believe in those moments that I need to apologize to them, in a desperate attempt not to lose them but most likely pushing them away all at the same time. Once I went so far as to say goodbye and apologize for wasting their time being my friend. I am blessed to have them though. I have never met better people. I am honored that they do "put up with me" and every time I go crazy they listen, sympathize, offer help, and then tell me shut the hell up.

I never like to verbalize what actually goes on in my head. More times than not I censor and leave the "bad stuff" out. I'm ashamed of them. But maybe I should start trying to manage them a little bit better. This is a perfect example of how my "healing journey" has been. I've been looking at it all from over my shoulder, backwards. Maybe soon I can slowly start to turn around, face it head on, and stare it directly in the eye.
~SS

Burdens

I don't know why I do this, well I don't know why I do a lot of things but that's not the point. I don't know why I look at this as something I'll "get over" or something that will go away eventually like a cold or the flu. I find myself wondering when I can go on with life, not have to deal with ____ or think about ____ or experience this or that. I'm waiting for some magical day when I wake up and it's all over, it's all gone and is only a piece of my history. How silly of me to hope and dream that I can live a normal life free of worries, haunting dreams, shaking, and doubts. How foolish of me to forget that this doesn't go away. I have to live with this forever.
"The familiar sting wells in my eyes and my heart sinks deep in my chest. Darkness takes over and I imagine my good-byes. Nothing can stop it; tonight there will be no rest. Images flash, too gruesome to share...such a heavy burden to bear." -Me

Holding on to what hurts

It's like everyone is given a crystal figurine when they're born. A symbol or shape that only has meaning to them. It is uniquely theirs. As infants, when we are protected, it is sheltered for us as we are cradled, rocked, and cared for. As we grow we're told to be mindful and take great care of our special gift. If anything might happen to it, though, at least we have people who can try to help manage the burden of keeping it safe. Helping if it gets scratched, teaching us how to care for it, and keeping it clean and protected. As we get older it is put in our possession and we become completely responsible for its protection. We're told we only get one and we'd better be careful. With courage and confidence, we take what we have learned and carefully venture out into the world to practice all that we have been taught. Filled with wonder and hope, we trust that we have the tools to keep ourselves safe, while knowing that we will always have love and support behind us when needed. But that's how it should be...unfortunately for me, my crystal was scratched, dropped, damaged and left unprotected-yet I was given all of the same messages of caution to protect my one and only gift. So fearfully, I picked up every broken piece and shard I could find in hopes of just keeping them all together. It might not have been whole anymore but at least I had all of the pieces. I was too young to even know that they could be broken, let alone what to do with the pieces. I just clung to them, no matter how sharp, because I knew it was my responsibility, it was my fault I was broken. I should have been more careful. I tried to mend it so many times but I would just cut myself. As time went by I would drop some of the pieces that I couldn't hold onto any longer. There were other things to focus on; to hold. Temporary relief. Distractions. But they would only cause me to lose track of what I had left. Once I realized there were very few pieces remaining, I tried to go back and find them. Some little ones were recovered but mostly the pieces were too damaged or too hard to find, so I just left them. Every now and then I would examine what was left. Embarrassingly, all I had were unrecognizable shards stained with blood, sweat, and tears that I used to hold so tightly to them. Now I am desperately clinging to what shattered pieces I have left because it's all that I have. Fragments of what used to be, miniature reminders of what should have been whole, what should have been complete and beautiful. I was responsible for protecting my gift and this is all I have left. I can never let go of the only pieces that remain -even though it hurts and I am badly scarred from them, I simply cannot let go...

 "The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen." -Elizabeth Kubler Ross