Fears and Nightmares

I think the hardest part about dealing with sexual abuse is the residual fear, I don't think it will ever go away. Being raped is (obviously) the most brutal thing that has ever happened to me. It was painful, and I was terrified. Now, as a 20 year old woman, part of me blames myself for the things that happened. I always ask myself "why didn't you scream?" "Why didn't you tell someone?" There are so many "why's" that I sometimes forget that I was a child. I had no idea what was happening, I was scared still, quite literally. I didn't fight, didn't scratch or cry or try to run... I stood there and let it happen. Slowly I am learning to forgive myself for this, constantly reminding myself that I was only a child, and that it's not my fault.

I wish very much that I had been brave enough to tell someone at the time, but I wasn't. I wish I had put him behind bars, where he may never hurt someone again. I wish that I had been braver, smarter, wiser, less terrified, but I wasn't. I was an 11 year old child, and it was not my fault.

Sometimes I still have nightmares about it. Not the kind of nightmare where you wake up and remember that it's over and you're back in the real world... the kind of nightmare that sticks with you for a few days. They drain my energy and leave me feeling like less than what I am. They leave me petrified once again. Hopeless. Nothing ever changes in the nightmares, he doesn't haunt me in new ways, it's simply a play by play of that day, and the fear and helplessness that I felt for the months after that.

I am still afraid of public restrooms. Something about the smell, especially after a big rain when there are muddy footprints all around. Or when I hear someone come in after me but can't see their feet. I have had genuine panic attacks in the stall of a restroom before, just because I heard the echo of the door as it shut behind me. Perhaps it was the finality of the sound, or the horrible cracking paint on the walls that were somewhat reminiscent of the walls where that horrible act took place. I don't know... something about it triggered me, and I lost myself for a while.

And my poor boyfriend, who has to deal with me waking up at all hours of the night and clinging to him desperately just so I remember that I'm not there, I am here, and I am safe. But that's the thing of it, we're never really safe. So many predators out there, so many people that would rather do you wrong than ever even consider kindness. I always thought I would get over this someday, completely over it where I am not afraid anymore... but it hasn't happened yet.

Maybe someday it will... I have my fingers crossed.