Long time no see
Well, it's certainly been some time since I last wrote anything here. Lot has happened, started up a Dutch blog as well, but after a while my style of writing became influenced by 'the invisible audience'. My fond memory of this blog is that it resembled a diary, I didn't think too long and hard about style or prettiness, I just dumped the whole load online and that was it. Felt better afterwards as well, like going to the toilet and shitting your guts out.
Sorry, that was to repell any spiritual people.
I'm actually delighted with the 'coincidence' of getting an email about my account. I have been writing in my diary (an ancient creaky laptop) for the last two days and found it a relief not having to keep my family in the back of my mind, friends et cetera, who could be reading and who could feel hurt about certain things. Certain things I need to express, get off my chest, get rid of.
For the past two years I have been living a hermit's life. At first I was hoping to finally write that book about my life (what life? She's only 33, well you'd be amazed), but as it turned out - as it so often does, since I have no control over my life whatsoever, which happens to be excruciatingly annoying - I was home for another reason. To work out a whole load of shit. There we go again on the toilet comparison.
I should have considered it to be a promotion, but of course I didn't. I felt guilty about quitting my sports (martial arts and my only social life) and rarely ever seeing friends (I have only two who have enough patience to deal with the likes of me). Furthermore I have a psychopath living next door to me, which is a great exercise in patience on my part, and of course I failed miserably.
No no no, that's not true, I didn't yell back and didn't throw things in his garden, I just let myself be intimidated. God I'm so happy to be here again.
At the end of last year I went on a holiday to Portugal for three weeks, to get away from all the shouting and violence, to get some peace and quiet in a place mostly visited by senior citizens at that time of year. It didn't turn out as I hoped, since I got mugged and raped in a field, in broad daylight.
And how could I write I actually percieved it to be a test? Who would understand? I think I did pretty well. If this had happened five years ago I think I would have gone mad or something. I wouldn't have been able to deal with it.
But. When it happened I feared for my life, I thought he would strangle me afterwards, and at the same time my head was clear, no jumble of racing thoughts, just rational thinking. Doing whatever was necessary to get out of it alive. Pretending to be a helpless victim so he wouldn't tie me up, which he started to do, with the sleeves of his shirt. I didn't stand a chance against him in a physical fight. He knew tricks to keep me down, was very muscular and fit, so I did a psychological thing.
Maybe details aren't important at this stage, maybe I'll get back to it later.
Anyway.
I was in the Now. It surprised me how little residual fear and anxiety came up in the months after. I only dreamed about getting raped twice. Yes, when I walk somewhere alone, I get scared, but it's gradually gotten less and less, and now is no more than before. I still have my dirty mind and I still want sex.
I don't know how I feel about them not finding him (I looked at about 3000 pictures on the police computer); I acted in such a way that he lost his erection and seemed to feel shame about what he had done, so maybe he won't do it again. And maybe it was all an act, who knows.
One day after the rape I decided I was going to use it as a tool, to turn the experience into manure on which to grow flowers.
I think I did everything I could, I assessed the situation and handled accordingly, thinking clearly despite the immense fear.
The past two months I have been reliving every doubt and insecurity stored in my body during the mere 33 years of my life, which makes me believe I'm nearing the end of yet another cycle in the process.
Now I want to get rid of the wall around my heart, I want to be able to feel the love I'm convinced I have inside me, but don't feel. I don't feel the love, anyone's love, and I'm trying to find a way of breaking down that wall. I know that if I can pinpoint the exact moment I decided it was infinitely safer to be alone and to erect a wall, I can understand, accept and let go. Maybe that iron belt around my chest will disappear as well, and the weird kind of astma that accompanies it.
See, I feel better already.
Sorry, that was to repell any spiritual people.
I'm actually delighted with the 'coincidence' of getting an email about my account. I have been writing in my diary (an ancient creaky laptop) for the last two days and found it a relief not having to keep my family in the back of my mind, friends et cetera, who could be reading and who could feel hurt about certain things. Certain things I need to express, get off my chest, get rid of.
For the past two years I have been living a hermit's life. At first I was hoping to finally write that book about my life (what life? She's only 33, well you'd be amazed), but as it turned out - as it so often does, since I have no control over my life whatsoever, which happens to be excruciatingly annoying - I was home for another reason. To work out a whole load of shit. There we go again on the toilet comparison.
I should have considered it to be a promotion, but of course I didn't. I felt guilty about quitting my sports (martial arts and my only social life) and rarely ever seeing friends (I have only two who have enough patience to deal with the likes of me). Furthermore I have a psychopath living next door to me, which is a great exercise in patience on my part, and of course I failed miserably.
No no no, that's not true, I didn't yell back and didn't throw things in his garden, I just let myself be intimidated. God I'm so happy to be here again.
At the end of last year I went on a holiday to Portugal for three weeks, to get away from all the shouting and violence, to get some peace and quiet in a place mostly visited by senior citizens at that time of year. It didn't turn out as I hoped, since I got mugged and raped in a field, in broad daylight.
And how could I write I actually percieved it to be a test? Who would understand? I think I did pretty well. If this had happened five years ago I think I would have gone mad or something. I wouldn't have been able to deal with it.
But. When it happened I feared for my life, I thought he would strangle me afterwards, and at the same time my head was clear, no jumble of racing thoughts, just rational thinking. Doing whatever was necessary to get out of it alive. Pretending to be a helpless victim so he wouldn't tie me up, which he started to do, with the sleeves of his shirt. I didn't stand a chance against him in a physical fight. He knew tricks to keep me down, was very muscular and fit, so I did a psychological thing.
Maybe details aren't important at this stage, maybe I'll get back to it later.
Anyway.
I was in the Now. It surprised me how little residual fear and anxiety came up in the months after. I only dreamed about getting raped twice. Yes, when I walk somewhere alone, I get scared, but it's gradually gotten less and less, and now is no more than before. I still have my dirty mind and I still want sex.
I don't know how I feel about them not finding him (I looked at about 3000 pictures on the police computer); I acted in such a way that he lost his erection and seemed to feel shame about what he had done, so maybe he won't do it again. And maybe it was all an act, who knows.
One day after the rape I decided I was going to use it as a tool, to turn the experience into manure on which to grow flowers.
I think I did everything I could, I assessed the situation and handled accordingly, thinking clearly despite the immense fear.
The past two months I have been reliving every doubt and insecurity stored in my body during the mere 33 years of my life, which makes me believe I'm nearing the end of yet another cycle in the process.
Now I want to get rid of the wall around my heart, I want to be able to feel the love I'm convinced I have inside me, but don't feel. I don't feel the love, anyone's love, and I'm trying to find a way of breaking down that wall. I know that if I can pinpoint the exact moment I decided it was infinitely safer to be alone and to erect a wall, I can understand, accept and let go. Maybe that iron belt around my chest will disappear as well, and the weird kind of astma that accompanies it.
See, I feel better already.
posted by M. at 2:31 PM
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