I feel like vomiting. Just now, I searched on Facebook for the [no longer] young man who raped me.
There he was; in one picture, holding a little girl, a toddler, who I assume is his daughter. Another picture shows him with her in her graduation cap and gown. I kept thinking, how would he feel if someone did to her what he did to me? My shaking hands flew to my mouth. Seeking comfort, I called the Old Sea Dog - who was not available. Just like when it happened all those years ago, there was only me. I trembled and wailed, rocked and cried, holding my chest, my heart, my torn asunder fourteen year old self.
Besides killing Wormtongue, the other part of doing this Happy Body Coaching is dealing with the stuff in my past that makes me want to be invisible - bad things happen when men notice me, (Bloody fucking theme. I was molested by the library janitor when I was seven.).
Things that keep the passionate, lovable, beautiful woman I am under wraps. I shouldn't be surprised that this is coming up - I'm stirring the damned pot.
The only way out is through.
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