Getting over it

Sometimes I think I'm over it. It has been a long time since I was 17, 18, 20, after all. But then something comes up to remind me that some things haven't changed and, while my reactions are more muted, I am still so effected, so traumatized.

My youngest girl loves to chew on ice. My husband likes to tease me. The combination of these two innocent and disparate things have sent me into a tailspin that I haven't quite gotten over yet, a week after the conversation has faded from everyone else's memory.

How could I tell him that certain memories of ice are associated with being assaulted? That there was, and still is, a confusing array of emotions--guilt, fear, shame, and yes maybe arousal--that came back in that very minute, as though  twenty three years hadn't really passed by. 

I didn't say no. Well, I did say no but maybe I didn't mean it because I didn't run away. I let it happen the first time. And the next time. And the last time. I didn't need to be held down the whole time. I was curious and horrified, even as I was repelled by the whole thing, from start to finish. I wanted to please him, to do the right thing. I wanted to be nice. I only cried a little bit. The condom was overfilled, the ice was jagged.

And afterward, I still wanted a relationship with him. I stayed with him for four more years. I let him do it again. And again.

Tell me with sincerity that my desire to

stay makes my experience less traumatizing. Tell me if a judge would cast doubt on my testimony as to the veracity of my lack of consent. And then tell me if there is anything that will help me to get over the injustice that still rages in my heart.

Awash in Tension

I am awash in tension tonight. I suspect there will be more writing, more sharing. I suspect it will make people uncomfortable and sad. I am not looking for pity or attention. But the verdict of the Ghomeshi trial reminds us that we mustn't keep quiet, that we need to break the stigma of sexual violence, that we need to work together to find a solution. That we mustn't be afraid to say out loud that it happened, that it still happens and that it will continue to unless there is a fundamental paradigm shift

http://walkingthefinelinetogether.blogspot.com/2015/06/trigger-warning-rape_10.html

The Tangle of our Narratives

A re-post from Sept 2014 (link at the bottom)

A reminder that the narrative we lay out for girls--to be nice, to be pretty but to also be strong, to make good choices but also to accept responsibility and consequences for mistakes made, to stand up for oneself but to also strive to mend fences of conflict and be forgiving--is reinforced daily. 

This tangle of choices and the heavy judgement that lies upon those whose faces are broadcast publicly creates the system that allows a man like Jian Ghomeshi to walk away from charges he himself does not dispute.

No woman, traumatized or not, is ever far from the snide commentary about illogical emotions that must surely rule over us and, therefore, make us easily dismissed.  

If I struggle to reconcile my intellectual self--the one that rails against the violence I experienced in my youth--to the emotionally stunted girl I often feel remains trapped in me--the one who still believes I must have done something to warrant it, that I could have fixed things, if I were thinner, prettier, and more obedient, things surely would have been different--it is because society still confuses and conflates my narrative arc. I can not be all the things and yet the expectation is this very thing we can not be.

It is a false dichotomy to say that we control the narratives of our lives when it is perpetuated around and against us, a death of a thousand cuts.The fault of my trauma does not lie with me. If I am to survive this breath and the next, in my heart I must convince myself that this is true.

http://beannutkin-bub.livejournal.com/2014/09/16/

If clear video footage of a man harming a woman is still met with doubt and scepticism, what good is anyone's word?