End of the Semester: About Concentration and the Fragmented Life

I’ve blogged about most of that first year after my SA and what it was for me, in a way.

But before I move on to the second year, there are few more things to mention.

Oh, and for those of you new here who are new to the story, if you scroll over “Story and Background” you can choose time period, and then go backwards in it to see what I’ve written. I’ll soon add few pages with chronologically linked posts for easier access. I’m also possibly writing a memoir book/guideline for those going through rape recovery. I’ve learned some things on the way of getting here, and although I am not an expert, there are things I learned in the past year that I wish someone had told me when I was first struggling with this. Anyway, that book is in the process of making, and meanwhile, there are few more things I would like to share.

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1. Counseling

I’ve mentioned in a previous post, that counseling somehow helped me, even though I told the counselor very little. One thing that struck me though- and that I tried to conceal from her, because I thought it made me a freak or crazy- was my inability to separate how I feel.

She started asking me things about how I feel.

I remember I mastered some answer, even though I knew that at best I’m twisting the truth.

But she kept asking me how I feel, and what was I supposed to say?

I was spending most of my time at my favorite university, with my friends, completely miserable? And despite that most of the time I am not sure how I feel? I can’t make difference between good, bad, sad, angry? Everything had somehow blended together and it wasn’t that I was running from how I felt. I had no clue how I felt. None. I ran her question through my head many times after that, for myself, and found it disturbing that I still didn’t feel in way. There was no separation of feelings within me anymore. I was an emotional time-bomb waiting to explode.

2. Fragments and concentration

Now, that is the other thing about my first year that I’d like to share. Mostly because while going through it I constantly wondered if I’m going crazy or have somehow broken my brain beyond repair. Only now, getting out of it, I can see how it was, and that it wasn’t forever. I wish I’d known that what I was going through was perfectly fine considering. Continue reading

Lessons Unlearned pt.1

Note: That may be triggering, but I’m not sure. I may have to write it in 2 posts, so the first 1 may be okay.

For that summer, I am like a person with no learning curve at all. Every time I try something- finding job, getting better- something happens and I’m back down again.

I have no memory of that night at all, besides the beginning and the end, and I push that out of my mind in pursuit of finding a job and keeping my sanity at the same time. I’m like a broken clock, I remember and then forget again, and find good ways to explain all strange things and black holes in my memory.

There is no such luck.

Nevertheless, I keep looking. And somehow keep resenting that guy from my house, and avoiding him, and feeling stupid for not being able to pinpoint why I feel this way. The strange bruises fade and I very successfully manage not to think where they had come from. I put the clothes I was wearing then in a bag, and stash them away, so I don’t think about what happened to the zipper. Out of sight- out of mind. Continue reading

Letting go

Tonight, after having a really productive day- something that has been rare lately- I finally feel strong enough to face one more post from this blog I had set to write, and very thoroughly avoided doing so. The post- or posts, depending on the length- about the 2 years that followed after the rape.

I type, without a rest for an hour, determined. Nothing can stop me now. I’m done hiding from my feeling, or from my past.

But at the end of the writing, this very familiar feeling overcomes me. The same feeling I have been having each time when I went over memories of THAT night.

I’m sweating, the blood rushing to my face, like I’m ashamed of something. My body is betraying me, no longer able to sustain the commands of my brain. This heavy, drowsy, sleepy feeling that makes my brain feel hazy overcomes me.

I have perfected the reactions of my body lately. I go over memories, to find the reason for how I feel, I clear it out, distract myself. I try to think reasonably and remember I’m in the present and I’m safe, with a lot of good options of the future.

But this feeling, this feeling I don’t know how to fight.

The only thing I usually do, it go to sleep, as it is usually the only thing I can do.

It almost scares me, the strength with which it swipes through my brain- what if I never get rid of it? What if something is really wrong with my brain? It’s not normal from my brain to shut down like I have drugged myself, I think. It scares me a lot more than any other aftermath of that night, because I have no clue how to control it.

How do I fight a feeling, if I can’t keep my brain awake enough to think and do so? Everything just becomes fuzzy and starts swimming in front of me, while I try to remember where I am and …I try, but the heavy feeling drowns me, and I no longer feel real. It’s just this huge wave of fog that goes through my brain, and feeling that I’m sleepy as if I have drank too much- only that I haven’t had anything more than a beer in months.

I let go of posting that post- my brain is too fuzzy to edit it anymore. I let go of trying to solve anything.

I simply, completely, and utterly, let go.

Until tomorrow.