She's Gonna Break Soon... in Chapter 8 : Time to Heal

I remember it very clearly, like it was this morning and not six years ago. I still have nightmares, flashbacks strike throughout the day. The memories never go away and the feelings are still there, still raw. I re-live the whole ordeal every day. It’s the first thing on my mind when I wake up, sweaty and terrified from the nightmares that chase me in my sleep, and the last thing on my mind as I drift off. The slightest thing through the day can trigger a flashback, the smell of Lynx Africa, a song lyric, even something as ridiculous the look on someone’s face. 

I avoid social occasions, I avoid staying overnight, I don’t stay overnight in anyone else’s bed, nor does anyone else stay overnight in my bed. I can’t put myself in that vulnerable position again. I miss a lot because of all this; by it’s very nature alienation will cause you to miss out, but is it always a bad thing if you’re alienating yourself in order to protect yourself? I’m not part of the gang, I’m not in on the jokes, I’m not included in the group chats, I don’t think I want to be either. 

The memories run deep, I swing back and forth from being so overwhelmed that I’m numb, to being so completely flooded with memories and flashbacks that I feel saturated, bogged down in it all. I can’t avoid these thoughts, these memories, they’re intrusive, they violate my consciousness. Even now, he still manages to violate me on a daily basis. I struggle to talk about it, it’s not like I can use it to introduce myself; “Hi, I’m Kit, my fiance raped me six years ago, and I can’t seem to move on…” it’s hardly the kind of fun fact they want you to share in an icebreaker. I’ve tried the therapy thing again, but I’ve just sacked my therapist because I can’t gel with her. I can barely open my mouth to her, which is more likely to be my problem than hers, but still if I can’t say the words to her, then how can she help? I’ll maybe try someone else next month whilst I wait on the appointment for more specialized therapy, and so, I withdraw from the world around me as I continue to punish myself. 

I’m afraid of what I will feel if I write it all down in all it’s full graphic detail, I’m afraid of what people will think if they read about what happened t0 me. I’m worried if it’s too much for me to do, too much to take, if it will send me spiraling completely out of control. I’m scared that it will take over. I don’t think I know how to keep calm and take a break when it all gets too much and overwhelms me. When I’m calm and ready I’ll begin by filling in the gaps with what I’ve written so far. 

So far I’ve told 6 people IRL. Each time it leaves me feeling ashamed and embarrassed, not because of their reactions and responses, but because of what happened to me. I still worry that it won’t be kept confidential, although as far as I’m aware no-one has broken my trust in them with it. If I keep talking about it I might go crazy, but if don’t then I definitely will go crazy. I just feel that I don’t deserve time and attention for it, that I was in part to blame for making such shitty fucking life choices. It’s eating me alive, I don’t know what I want to hear I just want someone to tell me how to move on, but it’s just not that simple.

I still feel violated, I’m withdrawing as I write this, clamming up, closing down, shutting off. My breathing is getting faster, I feel sick. The worst part is afterwards, after the first time, he gets off me and leaves me lying in our bed, in shock, like nothing’s even happened. He goes through to the bathroom and turns on the shower, I hear his razor buzzing as he takes off his the stubble that has left my chest raw. I smell his body spray. The wardrobe opens and closes, he does his zip up and as the door clicks open he tells me he loves me before closing the door and turning the lock. Trapping me in to the apartment, trapping me into an eternal nightmare.