Writing my story…

[iwillbeok]

I recently ordered a copy of ‘Look what you made me do..’ and as I was reading it, my own story kept popping into my head. Moments of recognition of the same patterns, with differences as well of course. No-ones story is the same as another’s, but those patterns are there!

I decided I would write my story, not to share with anyone but for me. I haven’t been able to go to counselling for a while now and am getting a bit tired of living in my own head; the thoughts, the memories, the almost-feelings swirling around. I hope if I write it all down I can get rid of some of it. There is a lot in my journal, but its mostly bullet points, or rants. I want this to be a slow, methodical excision. I want to go through the agony of seeing it written in black and white. Funny thing was, as I was writing about meeting him I wanted to shout to that young, naïve girl – ‘what are you thinking?! You don’t know this person!”. Years and years ago I used to think I was lucky – it could have turned out so awful. He could have raped me. In reality he began raping me that night, ever so slowly, it took (detail removed by moderator) years for the final physical rape to happen.

But I need to turn this narrative around – from ‘beating’ myself up for being naïve and trusting. For putting up with him for decades, for not recognising the damage he was doing to me and to our family. I want to get angry at him, I want to shout and punch the air but there is still a block. I can feel it in my chest. It is a remnant of the fog; I can’t look at it too closely. It hurts too much. I can be logical and analytical, but I can’t look at the feelings. What if they overwhelm me, what if I drown in them and I can’t get back up? If the feelings I am in touch with at the moment (the almost-feelings, the I-can-only-just-dip-my-toe-in feelings) are this bad… An iceburg comes to mind – I’m dealing with the 20% above the surface, but there’s still 80% under the water ready to destroy me….

It hurts. It hurts so bad… I think I’m being strong, my support people tell me I’m being strong. At what point is it not strength but just denial? Just head in the sand, keeping calm and carrying on?

[Ayanna]

I have the same desire, to write my story, to publish a book one day.
So far the memories are so painful that I cannot cope with writing everything down.
But I started to write fractions, every now and then a little bit.
I do not look at what I write again. I keep it all in a note book.
One day I make a storyline out of all my scribbles.

Yes, it is an iceberg. When you write more comes to mind and more and more and the pain takes over.
For this reason therapy is very important.
Without therapy I will never have the strength to dig into all these events.

You do not keep your head in the sand.
The pain can be too much to deal with and life demands us to carry on.
We have to pay bills and secure the future for old age, pensions, whatsover….

The more time comes between the events and our new lives the easier it will become to look into them, this is my take on it. I give myself ten years of a peaceful non abusive life before I put the demand of writing a book on myself.

[iwillbeok]

Thanks for your reply Ayanna, I have had to put it aside for now, its still too painful. I have shed a few tears but not as I expected I might have. Leaky tears rather than a full on bawl session which is what I want to do. I am mixed between numb and tense. I can feel it in my forehead and my jaw – I’m going to give myself a headache at this rate!

I only got to the end of the first month I met him. So many realisations, my head was reeling. Much like the lady who wrote Look what you made me do I have our letters – both the few he sent to me and the numerous, gushing, begging, apologetic letters I sent him. I found one that referred to our anniversary (of getting together), and was then able to recall the timeline a little clearer than I had previously – my god he worked fast! Within a month – he had told me he loved me, I gave him my virginity and he moved into the house share I was in.

There is one letter of mine in the bundle, that is unopened, still stapled shut. I have left it that way for now. I felt nothing yet everything when I saw that. What must he have made of these letters of mine? He knew he had me hooked. I was like an addict looking for her next fix. I can hear in my letters how desperate I was. I wish I could remember more clearly what it was like in those early days – how many red flags did I see and ignore? Or just not see at all?

You are right though. It’s not ‘head in the sand’; it’s survival. We still have demands on us – work, children, food to put on the table, bills… etc. Baby step by step, it is too large to deal with all at once. I have always been one to try and run before I can walk! Perhaps I will stick with my scribbles too for now lest this trying melt the iceberg all in one go, burns me up along with it!

iwillbeok x

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