I needed the company of the group today. With the upcoming date, I felt the need to be around the compassion and companionship of women that would understand me. That could offer advice, share similar experiences and generally make me feel less alone.
Whether I would talk or not was not premeditated. I felt anxious driving to the women’s centre. Exhausted already. Sad. Fighting an inner demon. I had no idea how many women would be at this group but I secretly hoped for a small turn out.
My wish was granted. Including me there were six of us. I knew them all. It was the first group of the year.
After the initial catch up I decided to go on and talk about the date that was coming up. It was during this time it occurred to me it would be 20 years. Can you believe I am still so devastated, so painfully effected by something so long ago?
I talked openly about my anxieties, my fears, my nightmares. My nightmares at the moment about being forced to see and feel a male’s gentalia. For such a long time I found it the most grosteque thing. Threatening and imposing. Confusing. I never wanted to know anything about it. I never wanted to see it. Subsequent sexual relationships involved me refusing to see it. It wasn’t anything of interest to me. It was a thing of pain, an object of power wielded over me.
My nightmares include this and needing to bathed in chemical treated water that I know will burn my skin, but I’m so dirty, I need it. I am both terrified and desperate to be clean. I am often being chased, held, pushed down. I can’t get up. I fight, but I can’t move.
I wake feeling tired. I wake feeling drained and sometimes confused.
What was the young girl like before it happened? What did she believe her life would be like? Who did she day dream about? What made her laugh?
In group today I shared with another woman how easily we get anxious in public places.
I shared my anger again over my previously mentioned cheque book theft and the seriousness that the police took it, the investigation, the courts and subsequent sentence. I emotionally and angrily talked about how fraud was treated so seriously but what I went through wasn’t. How people still ask if our credit is affected – it isn’t and if it was it would be an easy fix. But what about the long term effects that I’m going through?
What was stolen from me can never be replaced. The ramifications can never be sorted through a credit agency. The intelligence agency, the fraud squad, the courts – they are far less interested.
The group was useful today. I found solace. I found some comfort. But I’m exhausted. I’m sad. I’m in pain. Nothing can prepare me for the next couple of weeks, not even the last 20 years.