Wanna know what's it's like to be raped at 14?

There's a general disbelief. This couldn't be happening not to you. You must be misunderstanding something. No, you don't want this. But then why can't you stop it? It has to stop.

It must have been you. You brought this on yourself. You had your back turned toward the door. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You didn't hear the footsteps. You invited this violation. It's your fault.

Why can't you stop it? You push, you beg, you plead...

You fade away...

You disassociate, you overcompensate, you retreat. You go to a place that's safe... no not safe nothing's ever again. You go to a deep inside your head and try to hide, you attempt to stay numb...

That didn't happen. You must have misunderstood. This isn't your narrative. You can't have been raped. This isn't your life.

But it is and you can't get away. It colors everything you do, say, and especially your reactions to things. Sometimes... most times you can pretend you've got it handed. You dealt with the worst of it...

But you didn't. There's times your skin crawls and you want to tear if off. Other times you want to run faster than yourself so you can be free from it... but it's with you every moment of every day.

You try to take comfort it's happened to lots of people. You try to make the best of it. You're a survivor. You try to help others heal, deal and move forward.

See you knew you weren't a victim...

Then people you think you know and love > support a monster. They don't see the predator & laugh at you because you see what they can't or worst what they don't want to. You envy their privilege but yet again people who should be protecting you don't.

Everything becomes a trigger. Every day brings a new level of horror as terrible becomes normalized... until you want to ball yourself up so small so you can finally disappear into the nothingness you long for in your head.

The quiet... the peace... But you don't get the silence you only get the disruptive negative dialogue that convinces you about how horrible you must be.

Why didn't you come forward decades ago? You had the chance... The police questioned you but you told your version of the truth > It couldn't have happened to you. Someone else was there enduring what you simply couldn't have survived.

It's not your life. It's not your narrative except those freeze dried memories of the years you weren't quite alive colors your entire life. Dulls the happy and takes the shine off things.

(I will believe a survivor's accusations until they are proven false. I won't support monsters who admit to sexual assault and I feel deeply betrayed by those who do. So there is no bridge between me and someone who supports monsters).

That is my narrative now. My silence is being broken by finding my voice... and if you don't want to hear me scream... don't listen.

#metoo

Much <3, Z.