When I first started recovery, the whole process seemed close to impossible. It seemed I’m trying to get over the biggest most important time in my life, to get over a summer that was hell, that broke me to pieces, and left nothing behind to rebuild over. With time I learned to trust that may be I can get better, overcome it slowly. But it was always about changing myself, it was always about moving so much that I’ll never have time to feel that kind of hopeless, helpless pain of being caught in something over which I have no control and no option of doing anything to change it.
I was trying to overcome the idea of rape and all the other things that happened during this summer. I was never trying to make the summer seem just a bigger moment, because it wasn’t. I was never trying to see the guy as anything but monster, because I couldn’t even think that I will ever be able to do that. Forgiving him was never in the cards. I broke down, went through and started getting over the rape part. But I never intended to think about him ever again.
But recovery has it’s own timeline and rules, and you never see them until you reach a new step. Continue reading