Life's ... interesting, to say the least. I'm currently in a relationship that for as much as I want it to go to the next level (marriage), I also don't want it to go any farther and just end, leaving me alone for the rest of my life. I can't really say why I feel like the latter. It's hard for me to be with a man who has children, because that equals family. I have a hard time with family. I mean, before I was born my father killed himself because he wasn't ready to have a family, and my mother was rarely around. This has shattered, maimed, and destroyed family for me. But I'm doing well with it, though it's really hard for me. Kevin sometimes gets frustrated with me and my not wanting to go with him and the kids to do things. I mean, seriously dude, I literally woke up one day and found myself with two children, give me some time here; it's going to take me a while to get into this mother groove. The kids adore me and I adore them, but it's still ... unusual for me. My mother was such shit as I grew up, so it's hard for me to find my footing. But I'm doing it, as best as I can. I don't tell Kevin about my inadequacies, and I'm not sure why. I'm not nearly as secretive with him as I was with Roslynn, but for some reason I can't tell him when I'm bothered, whether it involves the children, our relationship, or my depression.
My depression ... ah, my depression ... It grows wild during the warm months. My self-injury gets out of hand (I cut tonight, actually). I feel suffocated. Dead. And there's just nothing that can help. I go about my days as best as I can, and just hope for the best. And that's enough. I can tell it bothers Kevin that all I do is sleep and wander the house like a zombie, not wanting to go out and do things with him and the kids, or even go out with friends. But really, it takes every fibre of my being just to wander around like a zombie. Depression just takes and takes from me. It makes it hard for me to breathe, much less be engaged with other people.
Which brings me to the fact that 17 August is quickly approaching. Last year was hard, it was such a monumental anniversary for me: for half of my life I have been a survivor of rape. Now, this year, I will have crossed that half way point. For OVER half of my life I have been a survivor of rape. It's just so odd and strange to know that about myself.
Every year on that date I lock myself up. I don't talk to anyone, don't go to work, don't watch tv, barely get online. I just shut down and be with myself. And that's good enough, really. Rape steals you away from yourself. Getting back in touch is important, I think.
But since it happened all those years ago, this is the first year that I will be with a man. There's a man in my life, whom I adore and love greatly, and while he knows what has happened to me, I don't think he fully understands it. "My girlfriend was raped." But does he REALLY know what those words even mean? Is he even aware that rape is not a crime that takes a small amount of time, but is something that lingers for years and years affecting every fibre of the victims life? He hasn't woken to find me curled up at the foot of the bed, lost in a flashback, reliving what happened, not being able to tell reality from memory. Would he even know what to do when I have a flashback? Would he know how to touch me when I'm in that state? Would he know what to say? Does he know how to bring a girl lost in her memories back into the here and now? I know what to do, I know what works and what doesn't, but he doesn't, and I'm scared for him to find me suddenly in that place.
Since being with him I have had one flashback, and luckily he wasn't in bed at the time. I know that one of these days I'm going to have one with him laying next to me. He's going to wake and find me curled up, shaking and crying, maybe even whimpering or gasping for air. He's not going to know what to do, and I'm afraid for him to be in that place, unsure, unable to take it all away.
I don't know. It's so late, 3:30, and I'm so tired.
PS: Friday, 17 August is a new moon. Noted.
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