As stated in Part One of this two-part blog post, I promise to be very open and honest with you all. I have always found that it’s so much easier for me to communicate my inner most feelings through writing. I’m very uncomfortable with confrontation and talking face to face with people is extremely scary to me. That’s why I journal because I can tell empty pages all day long how I’m feeling and I won’t be judged back.
I noticed on Facebook the other day that so many women were participating in the “Me too” movement. It was very hard to see post after post of women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted at one point in their lives. Especially when it was women that I’ve been surrounded by my entire life. I was very grateful for their honesty and that they were able to put themselves out there and be heard. So, I thought I should be honest as well.
It was five months or so after my boyfriend had broken up with me. I was still in complete shambles and I was trying to find “love” anywhere I could. He was my first love and losing him was one of the hardest things I had ever had to get over. Believe me, I was one of those girls who posted sad quotes about heartbreak and I vented about my sorrows like a broken record player. It was day after day that I would just feel like the sun would never rise again. When I look back now I see how dramatic I had made everyday life for myself. I also look back and see how I allowed my broken self be torn apart even more by other guys who didn’t really care about mending me.
This is my story:
It was five months or so after my boyfriend had broken up with me. It was a chilly Saturday afternoon and I remember wearing my black Nike compression jacket. It was tight and it showed how tiny I was underneath. When the boy texted me to come over and that he was alone, chills went up my spine. They were of excitement and also of very needy self-esteem boosting. I had been feeling like no one would ever bat an eye at me again. I was in desperate need of someone to hold me and tell me that I was worth something. I went over and he was right, there was absolutely no one home but us two. First we were just watching tv in his room, both of us on his bed and I was smart enough to know that this was probably not where I should be, but I was dumb enough to stay.
We kissed, a lot. I was ok with that. I had missed being kissed and I was comfortable with this boy. We had “dated” before and he was always a gentleman back then. So kissing him was familiar. But then things were moving so fast and I felt like I was having an outer body experience. I could see him holding me down and I could feel my heart racing. But it wasn’t racing because of excitement, it was racing with fear and with nerves. I then see him pulling my pants down and I can tell by my face that I’m not ok with that but somehow the words can’t form to say, “stop.” Then it happens and I swear during that outer body experience I look into my own eyes and we both know exactly what just happened. My body slumps and my eyes tear up. I can’t say anything because keeping quiet might make it end sooner. I just go numb from head to toe. Eventually I’m able to get up and I shakily pull my pants back up. He tells me to go home. I’m running out to my car, and as soon as I get in and shut the door to my jeep, the tears pour. I had never cried like that. It wasn’t the same kind of sobbing that I had done when I was dumped. It was the kind of sobbing where you know something bad has just happened and it’s mixed with the sobbing of embarrassment. Can you believe that I was embarrassed of what just happened, even though I had no control? I was the victim yet I was the one feeling completely sorry. I drove home and I felt like every car passing me knew. I felt dirty. I showered immediately and I just sunk in the tub and cried. The water washing my body but it wasn’t washing the images from my brain. I felt burnt. Like the images were burning themselves into my head and the feeling of being worthless burned into my heart. How could this sweet kid I knew be this controlling and heartless monster?
I didn’t tell anyone. I deleted his number and I just went on with my life. I never wanted anyone to ever know what had happened to me that Saturday night. Every time I see him now I feel this sense of fear rush over me. I wish I was so tiny that I could just hide and he would never see me. But instead, he always smiles at me. Every single time. Like he knows that we have this moment together and that we can’t ever erase it. A history that will never be unknown.
I felt in that moment after it happened that I was this filthy and unworthy human. I felt like I was just this bag of bones and flesh and that he didn’t see anything but this lifeless body that he could do whatever he so chose with. I felt like I was never the same again when it came to interacting with people. The way someone would reach out to me and I would flinch or the way someone would brush up against me on accident and I felt trapped.
As a Christian woman, this was really hard for me to come to terms with. I had to accept that I had made the choice to go over to his house and I asked the Lord to forgive me. I knew that God’s heart ached with me and that He still loved me no matter what. He knew that I was worthy of being loved and that I still am to this day. When I would start to think about how awful of a person I was because of that incident, the Lord would tell me, “You are beautiful. For you are fearfully and wonderfully made” Psalms 139:14. And when I would feel helpless, the Lord would say, “For I am the Lord of God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you” Isaiah 41:13.
And for those for you who might be thinking that due to the past, that you are filthy or that you are undervalued, I am here to tell you to stop. Stop thinking that you are at fault. Stop thinking that no one will ever love you because of your past. I’m here to tell you that YOU ARE LOVED. You’re not only loved by me and by the Lord, but someone out there is going to love you no matter what. Someone out there is exactly what you’re going to need to rebuild yourself and they are going to help you love yourself again. It might be a family member, a friend, or the TRUE love of your life. That person is going to see the shambles, the hurt, the fear, and they will see that those are merely scrapes and that scrapes can heal. I’m here today to tell you as well, to let those people help you. Don’t feel like you have to hide forever and that you have to feel that way forever.
I never thought that I would find someone who would sit down and let me tell them every bump and bruise of my life and still be there the next day. But I did and you can too.
Ladies, we are all in this together and we are all very valuable.