This blog post is about rape. If it's going to make you sad, please read about my angry work situation instead.
I mentioned it on twitter this morning, and Cat suggested writing it down. I don't know why I've never thought of this before - I write everything else down, so why not a nightmare that I've struggled with for years? It seems like a no brainer; whenever else I write things down, it helps me to process whatever it is and either come up with a solution or move on, so why would the same not apply to this?
Anyway, I've had this nightmare for years and years, and each time, it's slightly different, just to keep me on my toes. The basic premise is that I'm being violently and physically raped. Before you say 'oh, but all rape is physical', realise that there's a difference between being held down and being kicked and punched and choked and thrown against walls. One of those I consider 'physical rape' the other, I consider 'rape'. Sorry, but it had to be said. You could also say that the physicality makes it violent, or that ALL rape is violent, but again, there's rape, then there's rape, then there's violent rape, where the rapist is totally out of control and crazy. Have you ever been so angry that when someone talks to you or even yells, you don't hear them because you're so caught up in your own world? That's sort of how I imagine the rapist is feeling.
Each time, I'm locked or otherwise restrained in a room. Last night it was in my own bedroom, which makes for horrific change. There's nothing like feeling unsafe in your own house. Despite the fact that I don't even have a lock on my door, I was somehow locked it with the rapist, and he had the only key to get out. There were bars on the windows (clearly, my room was somewhat modified; I am paranoid, but not enough to fit bars on my bedroom window!) and magic glass so no one could hear me. My bed has a headboard and footboard (is that what you call the thing that sticks up at the end of the bed?) and I was thrown, deliberately, broken shoulder down onto the footboard, then kicked into it again for good measure.
Before I started writing this, I didn't really think it would make me feel worse, but somehow it has.
Anyway. In my nightmare, I basically get hit until I'm on the ground and can't get up, then kicked in the stomach and choked until I stop fighting. Just to leave nothing to the imagination, when I'm choked, usually, it's a hand around the throat pushing me into the floor/bed/wall. It's about then in my nightmare that a feeling of overwhelming helplessness and desperation takes over, which is the feeling I wake up with.
That feeling, if you've had the good fortune to never experience it before, is very similar to the feeling you get when you're drowning. You know, just incase you've almost drowned and survived, but have never felt like your world has collapsed. For those of you who have not experienced either, for me, first, my eyesight goes - I can have my eyes open, but my vision gets more and more blurry, then finally black. After that, my lungs and chest start burning, and in my stomach, I feel like I'm being punched from the inside. My legs stop responding first, the finally, my arms refuse too. Everything burns, but is so, so cold. My lungs involuntarily try to breathe a few times, then they, too, give up. In real life, I would probably pass out at this point, only to wake up to being raped, but because nightmares are horrible, I stay conscious throughout the whole thing.
You'd think that after so many years of nightmares, I would be able to control what I'm doing and pretend to pass out or pretend not to fight to make it easier, but I'm not the sort of person to ever give up without a fight, even if it's in my best interests not to. I guess fear takes over.
The actual rape part is a lot less scary and horrible than the being attacked into submission part, even though in my nightmares, I'm always somehow or another being strangled, punched or otherwise hurt while the rape happens.
When I was younger and had these nightmares, I remember thinking during them that there's no way that you can die in a dream, it would be like those flying dreams where you fall, and just as you hit the ground, you wake up. I can attest to the fact that this is blatant lies; I have been killed in dreams and have watched my rapist attack my body after I'm dead. I think that gives me the greatest feeling of helplessness.
Sorry, I know this has got less and less readable and more of a jumbled mess, and I'm not sure whether I should post this or not. I guess any comments I get couldn't be worse than how I'm feeling right now, huh?
Maybe this whole writing it down thing will get easier with time. This time, it just made me cry and want to curl up somewhere safe and be alone, but for now, even my house isn't safe, so I guess I should go to work and be around other people.
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