Sunday, March 06, 2011

Boundaries in Transition

"Today one door may slam shut, while another one begins to open. With so much potential in your romantic life, you cannot afford to let an incident from the past mar your happiness now. Be sure that the door to your past is firmly locked before fully opening this new door. Only then can you proceed free of hindrances, knowing there are no ghosts waiting to haunt you."

I think I finally know where my boundaries are, what I will and will not accept or allow... what is right and wrong for me... what I do and don't want from people and relationships. Now I know. Before, I didn't.

Moving back here reminds me of all the abuse, molestation, fighting, family drama, crying, screaming, the holes in the walls... the start of my twisted fascinated with testing myself and "GOD," aka my 10 year marathon of suicide attempts. My first two were in high school. And then I was raped... on my birthday... at my own fucking birthday part. And I realized the next morning that he planned it... I was set up. How's that for irony? To survive your death the very day you celebrate your birth? And here comes Suicide Attempt #3 where I stood in my parent's kitchen and pushed a knife into my stomach to see if I could stab myself to death. I wanted to know how far I could push the knife in until it hurt... if I could do it. The pills didn't work, so maybe a 9-in. butcher knife would do the trick.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

This place is hell for me, as you can plainly see, or read, I should say. But who gives a shit? It's life. And I bet that many of you are living with an equal amount of painful memories that have led you to where you are. The difference may be that you might still be in the thick of it all... falling down that same black hole I was in not too long ago... wondering if you'll ever make it out...

My second rape took place the year before I relocated... which is strange because it doesn't seem like that long ago at all. It seems like it just happened a year ago, at the most... but nope... it happened November 2007, now that I think about it and get my timeline right... just seven days before my birthday... almost on the EXACT same date as my first rape years earlier. I couldn't fucking believe it. Who the fuck was dealing me these cards?! Life is so fucking crazy.

But that makes sense, actually... now that I think about it. I moved here in January 2009, my company was recruiting me me for about a year before that... so the pressure started around the time of my second rape... and that's why I fought it extra hard. Weird that I never connected it before... all this place reminds me of is J and what he planned and did... and then to have the pressure to move back here for financial stability and security... no wonder it was so hard... no wonder this transition has been so fucking crazy... no wonder I've only slept with one person since my last rape. Because look at everything I'm in... what I've been in this entire time... these past two years... my entire past staring me dead in the eye... and moreso this past month, as you'll soon learn.

Life's all about the timing, kids. That ain't no joke. Or secret.

This world knows when we're ready to move on, even if we do or don't recognize it.

I had a feeling I was being pulled back here because my new work situation was going to, in some shape, way or form, lead me to J again. I didn't know how, but I knew there must be some thing, person, place or thing that was going to connect me to that piece of shit... because it's something that I've always wanted - to see his face again... but not so much for me to see him... HE needs to see ME.

And my eyes are beginning to water...

Strange I never connected the timing of this entire transition before... strange that I didn't see how impeccable the timing was of all these back-to-back events in my life... this move wasn't about a step up in the career world like I thought... it was about taking a step forward in my world.

You see, I know what it's like to feel so alone and angry and hurt and confused that you feel like you're walking on air because there isn't anything inside of you anymore to keep your feet on the ground... your heart and soul are rusted and wreaking havoc on your mind and body... you can't feel anything inside of you anymore. I know what it's like to live in a nightmare your entire life, wondering if you're ever going to wake up. I know what it's like to spend more time planning your exit from this world than all those fairy tale weddings your friends are all gushing about. That shit was make-believe. What was reality for me was growing up with an alcoholic father who showed his love with hate, and a mother who had survived enough of her own demons that she was only operating on one of two modes at any given moment - numb or automatic.

So, this place... moving back here... there's a lot bad memories of bad things I couldn't escape from. All this place reminds me of is all the fucked up shit I went through and, ultimately, survived. Yes, there are good memories, too, but the bad ones - the ones that force you to question whether or not there is a God... the experiences you endure that make death seem like a dream... those memories outnumber the good memories.

In case you didn't catch that - the bad OUTNUMBERS the good. So even when I do try to focus on the good, it takes me a while to find it. My mind has to switch gears, dust off her life jacket, and swim through a sea of bad files in her memory bank to get to one good one. And more often than not, even that one good memory I have, I can't really remember it as clear as the bad ones. It's foggy... hazy... blurry... and then I begin doubting if it was ever even a real memory at all, or if it was just something my mind made up to survive the bad... if it was one of those "good places" I took myself to when things got bad... a place I'd escape to in my mind while I waited for another storm to pass.

It's a difficult thing to remember your childhood and not know if the good stuff was ever even real, or if it was just a dream, or a wish, or a fantasy that you had to conjure up just to survive your environment and experiences.

That, my friends, is as real as it gets.

I still can't believe I found my rapist one month ago.

The one who fucked up my life with his plan to rape me on my birthday. That was the one experience that always made me burn and crash, and each time I would burn longer and crash harder than the last time. I just found him on February 3rd. And on Valentine's Day, I found an address.

And it also occurred to me the weekend I found his address, when a very close friend said to me: "Either way you need to take the steps to let it go because life is precious," that I've spent HALF of my life trying to find this waste of skin. This guy that I could never get out of my head... his face and those eyes branded in my memory forever... that entire night replaying like a God damn broken record, interrupting my life at exact moment I was regaining control and feeling happy again... it hit me like a bolt of lightening that in finding my rapist, I found myself again.

I just found the last piece of the puzzle. And I can feel it being set right in its proper place. And it's emotional, and it's confusing, and it's draining... but my rapist isn't affecting me like he did all those years before. This last piece of the puzzle that I just found... it's the world giving me back what he took from me. I finally have permission to share all my life's truths... I just need a minute to catch my breath.

All this had to happen just the way it did because if it happened any other way, I wouldn't be here now... yet... so finding him a month ago... as random and quick as it was... and now having an address... it's not about revenge, it's about understanding and forgiveness and moving forward with all of my nonprofit work to help other survivors of rape and sexual abuse... to make this world a better place for everyone in it... to raise awareness and understand why it's so hard to charge, and convict, rapist... and to continue working to change that.

I thought I was ready before, but each time I tried to take one step forward, the world pushed me two steps back. And it wouldn't ever make sense because I know what I was meant to do - why I survived so much fucked up shit - the sexual abuse as a kid, the rapes, the drugs, too many near-death experiences with car accidents and suicide attempts. I know, in my heart of hearts, the bigger reason I survived all my shit, but what I didn't know was why the world wasn't letting me move forward with any of it. I couldn't figure out what else I had to learn because I felt so solid - the most solid I had ever been in my entire life.

And there was my first mistake.

It wasn't a lesson I had to learn that was the reason I was being held back.

It was a piece of myself I had to find before I could move forward.

So, on that note, goodnight readers.

And fuck you, Jay.


Karma's a bitch.

Copyright 2006 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing and photocopying, recording or by any other information storage or retrievel system, without permission in writing from the publisher.