Joined: 30 Dec 2010
|Posted: Thu Dec 30, 2010 4:20 pm Post subject: Again.Again.Again.
|I have been having this nightmare for the last 27 years:
I open my eyes and all I see is total darkness.
Can't tell were am I.
Is disorienting, I try to feel if I'm standing or sitting or floating. Then I realize I'm laying down, I can feel the cold concrete in my naked lower back, I can smell the floor, then more smells. Corporal odor, breath that is not mine.
The fear builds quick.
Then is when I feel the weight in top of me. I can't breath. I can't scream. I can't move. I want to call for help, but I can't. I'm pinned under his body weight and I'm going to feel the excruciating pain in my lower abdomen, at the same time that I feel the bite in my shoulder.Panic. Shear terror.
I doesn't matter how many times I go through it. I never known is just a dream until is over and have time to calm down.
Is happening to me over and over. I'm 10 years old again, and I'm terrified and I hate it.
I remember being 10 years old, middle of the night and waking up my parents screaming hysterically after this dream.
I always answered that I didn't remember what was the scary dream about. The doctor said they were night terrors, that would go away with age.
I lied. Never told about my nightmare. I didn't know why I lied. I just did.
Being alone if I started to think about it, I could hear my own voice in my head saying "don't go there, don't go poking around to know why or you will be sorry".
I went from being a straight A+ student to failing every subject. I stopped praying for the nightmare to go away, then I stopped praying for the strength to endure the nightmare, then I just stopped praying because I felt like praying was just talking to myself, I felt numb...then I started to be pissed. Then I stopped talking altogether for almost a year. Not a word. I can't say how much of it was I didn't want to talk or if I couldn't.
I became the class freak, was the weirdo with no friends, the one the school therapist pulls from class to have monologues with... I was going trough hell, I was angry and sad and I didn't even know why.
I became a despondent, cynic, defiant,bitter, annoying over antagonizing popular teenager. I was absolutely hostile to psychologist and became fully equipped to drive crazy any who dared trying to treat me, wasting both our time.
It wasn't until my early 20's that I suddenly had a flash back. I remember it.
It was like a name you know and can't recall, you have it in the tip of your tongue... but you can't remember and suddenly BANG! you said it.
I was raped by an unknown man. I remember the man,all the details, I never forgot the version I gave to my parents, and the police the day it happened, but I had forgotten what really happened, what I omitted. What I denied it happened. It didn't go away just because I pretended it never happened.
It didn't make sense. How one can forget something like that? how one can remember out of the blue 10 years later? was I crazy? Did I really need therapy after all? ''
For the first time I went seeking help to a therapist. It helped me to understand repressed memories, disassociation, it gave name to everything I was feeling, I stopped feeling so confused.
It was a few hard years of therapy, wanting to overcome my trauma, I was going to get "cured". I was going to stop having that freaking nightmare and waking up terrorized and sweating and screaming and crying.
Therapy helped me to understand some things about myself, my behavior, the aftermath of trauma,helped me but I still disliked therapy.
Talking to some body that had a psychology degree but hasn't walked in my shoes. I disliked the idea of medications, to me was just a way to mask the symptoms not an aid to overcome the problem.
I felt much better the day I understood that I wasn't going to get "cured". It wasn't coming the day this will not longer have any effect over my life.
To me the only way to cope with it was to accept it happened but it didn't mean I had to be a victim, and to get over this was accepting to live with it, and I don't mind what other people might think about my issues. I'll have bad days, maybe because I had the nightmare again, or I hear news on TV about a pedophile and something inside ticks, but it is OK because I'll have good days too. It doesn't define who I'm. If I have a bad day it doesn't mean I'm a screw up, or weak, or should feel guilty or ashamed,or angry for not moving on... I'm not damaged goods.
I'm another survivor.
I was just a kid in the wrong place in the wrong time with a predator near, and this changed my life and I only have control about how I let this affect me today.
I'm 37 now. Happily married for 12 years to the most wonderful person, who doesn't ask me what I was dreaming about or get annoyed because I screamed in the middle of the night.Listens to me when I need to talk, respects my need to be quiet sometimes, and loves and accepts me for who I'm with everything, bad and good. I can talk about this wit him.
Being raped stole my innocence, ruined my childhood, tarnish my youth and when I tough it couldn't hurt me anymore I have now to come to terms with the fact that stole my motherhood too.
I had two miscarriages in the last years.
Scarring prevents the pregnancy to evolve. I can't have children.
Lately I have been having the nightmare again.
I might have trouble to get over the resistance to talk to a therapist, but I sure know I need help.Again.