Risk

"He who doesn't risk never gets to drink champagne." Russian Proverb

I gave this site address to a few people I know. I don't know why I did this anymore. I'm kind of regretting it now that it's all said and done, but at the same time, I'm tired of wishing I wasn't "lying" to everyone by hiding what my life is really all about. I'm generally pretty happy but as I start to prep for publication, I am beginning to realize that there is so much shit I have kept buried so deep down that I am absolutely, positively, incredibly and indefinitely screwed up... in more ways than one.

My memories are electrocuting my insides. I wish I didn't give this address to my friends. But I did. I don't know why. Or maybe it's because of this:

Ever since I was a very young girl, I knew I would always be on my own. I had my parents, but I wasn't taken care of. Bad things happened. A lot. Things that when I am just thinking about them now make my tears rush forward... like a waterfall.

I am not sad. I am not angry. I am not in pain. I am not confused. I am not depressed.

I am just accepting.

I am just surviving.

I wonder what my friends will think of all of this shit their eyes are reading and knowing of who I really am. What are you thinking? How do you feel about me now? Don't feel sorry for me because I don't want your pity. I don't need your pity. I don't even need your help. I just need you to understand that real fucked up things happen to real good people and there is nothing anyone can do, except embrace the experience for what it's worth, integrate it into their lives, understand it is a part of their Life and move on the best way they possibly can.

I should really practice what I preach.

I haven't smoked pot in five weeks - a record, I think. So I've just been drinking. A lot. I have been making frequent trips to the store with each receipt reading only a healthy list of purchased wines and a grand total... think I've been wine shopping more than grocery shopping. I guess I'm killing two birds with one stone - wine is made from grapes.

I'm so confused that I cracked open a bottle of wine 30 minutes ago. Whatever I have to do to find my heart again. Whatever I have to do to make all of this ooze out of me so it doesn't continue to eat away at my insides, to burn them, to electrocute them to ashes.

I have to put my life back together somehow, some way. I have found joy in many people and experiences, but that isn't enough for me. My life is exactly where I need for it to be. Except that I am still disconnected from it all.

It's that angel I lost during my rape.

I can't get her out of my head.

When I left his house that morning, he smiled at me, as if to say, "Thanks for letting me rape you."

I was driving home with my best friend and told her, "I was naked last night."

She looked at me with this huge grin and said, "You finally hooked up!"

I said, "No... I was naked, but I wasn't supposed to be."

She looked at me with the same smile and said she was proud I finally hooked up. And that she was glad I had such a great birthday.

She heard my words, but she wasn't listening to what I was saying. I didn't say much on the way home. I knew I couldn't tell anyone if I couldn't tell her. I was just raped on my birthday and had no where to go, except back home to my dad's Canadian Whiskey, heavy hand and bottles of pills to overdose on.

I cannot believe I gave this site address to people who actually know me. What the fuck was I thinking?!!

I am thinking: Fuck this. Fuck all of it. Fuck my rape. Fuck my dad. Fuck the suicide attempts. Fuck the butcher knife into my stomach. Fuck my deadly car accidents. Fuck the rumors. Fuck aborting my rapist's fucking kid. Fuck the boyfriends who deserted me because of my rape. And fuck you, too, for thinking I am fucked up.

It only means I am normal.

It only means I am just like you.

Good thing I am drinking a bottle of wine at two in the afternoon. Sweet. I am, after all, my father's daughter. So this must be how it all begins...

I don't care what you think of me, dear reader. I don't even care about what my life has been like for so long because I can't EVER imagine being anyone else. I can't EVER imagine being someone to deny another's pain and not do everything in my power to help him/her to not feel so empty and alone.

I gave this address to people I know for two reasons and two reasons only:

1) This fundraiser: SURVIVOR AID FOR RAPE AND ABUSE AWARENESS is the most important, most rewarding, most fulfilling thing I can ever do in my entire life. The moment I realized I could very well be carrying my rapist's child - and had no one to go to - was the moment I realized I would dedicate the rest of my life to helping other survivors. It is surreal we are really making this happen. And we need all the help and support we can get to make this as successful as it deserves to be.

2) Fuck what people think of me... this is my life. If you don't like it, then leave. I am used to it. I am bigger and better than other people's opinions. I hold more strength and wisdom at my young age than most people can muster in their whole lives. I am not only a rape survivor, I am a proud survivor. Fuck Jay. Fuck his kid. Fuck the fact that he ruined my life. The truth is it could always be worse... and I'm not alone.

Years went by until I even told my brother what happened. I hate saying the word RAPE. I hate hearing other people say it. I hate seeing it staring at me on this computer screen right now... RAPE RAPE RAPE. It fucking sucks. It kills a part of you that you never knew you had, which makes the pain and suffering so much more unbearable. It touches pieces of your heart and soul you never knew existed. The only way these pieces came to life was through the pain of this experience... and when you start to realize there are parts of you already damaged - parts you haven't even had the chance to know yet - you get angry and confused, feeling like it's you against the world.

Last week, my brother said the word RAPE to me for the first time. I was talking to him about how everything is rushing back now. How I don't know what's going on. That I know this isn't my whole life, but everything is so fucking confusing because as I am prepping to write my book for publication, I am realizing there is A LOT of SHIT I just shoved away. I can't even sleep anymore... he's in my dreams every night. My brother has never said RAPE to me before. I froze. I felt so awkward and dirty. I needed to take a shower. I immediately flashed back to the moment I told him I was raped:

I was breaking up with a boyfriend - Hands Dropper. We met through our jobs. I had the night off, he didn't. We had already been having problems. I knew he was getting more and more disgusted with my rape. He was slowly drifting away... couldn't even look at me anymore. We took a trip to Lake Tahoe for a week over New Year's... he wouldn't even snuggle with me at night. It felt like I was kissing a wall when we kissed. I knew he was already gone. When we returned home, we had to deal with what was happening with us. He was supposed to come over after work to talk about why he's been avoiding me. I couldn't wait. I called him at work. He said, "I don't know why. I just can't. I'm not okay with it... I wish I was, but I don't know how to be. It just really bothers me... I'm sorry but I can't do this anymore." Before I could say anything, he had to go and said he'd call me right back. Five minutes later, the phone rang. I thought it was my boyfriend. It was my brother.

He was in a good mood. He asked what was going on, how I was doing... I just started to sob uncontrollably. I couldn't hold it in.

"What's wrong?" he asked me.

"I can't tell you," I said.

"Yes you can. What happened? What's wrong? I'm here... talk to me."

"I can't say it. I don't want to tell you."

The tears are starting to come again... I wish this wasn't my life, but I'm afraid it is...

I was crying so hard while my brother was trying to figure out what happened. I told him my boyfriend and I were breaking up right now because of something that happened and I was waiting for him to call back.

"Okay, baby. But what happened? You can talk to me. Just take your time and tell me what's going on."

I started to sob. "Something bad happened... with a boy."

"Like what? What did he do?"

"I can't say it. I didn't want it to happen. I tried. It wasn't supposed to happen." I was crying so hard.

"It's okay, sweetie, it's okay. You don't have to say it. But I'm going to ask you something and just say yes or no, okay?"

"No, I don't want you to ask me."

"Why not? You just have to say yes or no. You don't have to say anything else."

I started to sob again. "Please don't ask me," I pleaded with my brother.

"Why not?"

"Because you already know the answer."

Just then, call waiting beeped in. I told my brother I had to go. He said he would call me later. But before he hung up, he told me he had this nagging feeling all day to call me for some reason. He's been busy with classes, but today, while he was driving home, something inside just told him to pick up the phone and call me right now. So he did.

I think it's pretty ironic I am game for anything involving incredible levels of risk, like jumping out of planes, driving absolutely hammered, multiple suicide attempts, confronting my rapist in eight months... except the one and only thing I desperately NEED to risk now more than ever - my faith.

I have to risk it all in order to get it all back. I do have faith, but I don't exactly know in what. I don't believe in God, but who/what else would see me through all of this shit? I don't believe in love, but if my dearest friends didn't love me, then who else would save me from my excessive drug use? I don't believe in family, but where else did I come from?

I have to keep taking these risks. No matter how scary or how difficult they get, I have to keep taking each day one risk at a time in order to see the light of my next day. As much as I regret giving this address to those that know me, I will regret it even more if I stood in the way of them knowing the real me. I have to remember that it's okay to have a bad day, a rough night and painful memories because this is my life.

This is who I am.

For better or for worse.

This is my life.

Dear God,
Please help me to live it.