unmaking and regrowth
Being Unmade and Regrowing,
a story of survival
CONTENT WARNING
this story is about rape. please click away if you are not in a good place to read about the intricacies of surviving that sort of experience.
here's a picture of a sneaky borb, the story is below.
I've spent a lot of time, an exhaustive amount really, going over the details of that night in my head. time has passed, four years now, and I'm beginning to realize that the specific details don't matter as much. after i raped in june of 2020, it slowly occured to me how abstract the concept of rape is. at it's core, it's a violation of your body. for a long while, i wouldn't dare call what i experienced 'rape' because i thought, "well, i wasn't penetrated.. it wasn't necessarily violent.. at least not physically.."
i was extremely caught up in the particular details, possible legal definitions of certain actions, or lack of action. i was not considering my feelings. i couldn't. confronting them was scary. what if i was wrong, not considering her feelings as much as i should? there's no way she'd come over with the intention to harm me, would she? who would do that? like i imagine any situation like this is, its complicated. either because my anxiety addled brain is making it so, or because it really was. it's hard to tell in the aftermath of something like this.
as i'm writing this now, it's my first instinct to list out, almost in a bullet point list, the exact happenings of that night. i'm trying my best to remind myself that this is not productive for my healing or the healing of others that might see this. the violence happened; its in the past, and what i and other survivors need to focus on are the feelings we carry and how to live with them. i need to give myself grace when someone gives me a hug and i recoil or freeze. i need to be patient with myself when my partners are cuddling me and i have to ask them to give me space.
perhaps that last paragraph was overly indulgent.. i don't really know. if i've learned anything over these past four years it's that getting lost in a spiral is extremely easy and knowing how to dodge them is like trying to find a light switch in the dark when you're not familiar with the location. it's hard. i'm going to give myself some time now to let my feelings equalize and come back to a more restful base-line. it's time to ground myself. the next portion of this will be written after an indeterminate amount of time has passed; maybe an hour, maybe a week, who knows..
well, it's only been maybe an hour or two and now i'm equipped with the budget conscious adhd medication; coffee (particularly cafe bustelo made in a hario v60 pourover). i was thinking of apologizing for that last paragraph, but then i realized i apologized for the previous one also.. hoo boi my brain works in weird ways, if it works at all. anyways. where were we? oh yes, talking about the horrors of rape and how it breaks your sexuality in ways you didn't think were possible.
the woman that raped me was a friend. it was our first time metting in person and things were looking like they were going to be fun. we had planned to play video games and hang out. one of my partners was making zuppa touscana, a wonderfully comforting stew. nothing could ruin this experience, i thought. again, i should reiterate that i'm consciously not going to talk about the specifics of the night past that. i firmly believe that those details will only cause harm to myself and others that might see this little alcove of the internet.
with that last bit in mind, lets fast forward a bit. in the months following the events of that night, i felt.. disassembled. broken down, unmade. previously, i was a fairly sexual individual. not like, having sex every day or anything, but it was normal, i think. me and my two fiancees live together in our comfy little abode. we practice non-sexualized nudity. most of the time when we're home, we're either entirely or mostly unclothed. its liberating, comfortable. why wear clothes when society doesn't expect you to? have you heard of bathrobes or blankets? they're wonderful! clothes are absolutely overrated. i bring this up to say that whenever the three of us go to bed, we're bundled up under our plethora of blankets and it's beautiful. genuinely its wonderful. however, after that night, i just.. could not bear to be naked. i couldn't do it. it took me some time to admit to myself, let alone my partners that anything had happened so from their perspective, everything was normal, then one day i couldn't let them touch me at all while we were going to sleep and i had to be fully clothed. the first few nights i told them, 'oh its fine' or something like that, i don't remember all of the specifics, its been four years. after this kept up for maybe a week or two, they sat me down and thats when i uttered that horrifying phrase for the first time. i verbally admitted to myself what had happened. "i was sexually assaulted when my friend came over" i said, descending into tears. it felt horrible. wrong.
thankfully, my partners are my best friends and they have been extremely supportive ever since those horrible words first came out of my mouth. that first hurdle was seemed impossibly difficult in the moment but after the words left my mouth, i did feel relief among the pain and grief. i say grief because a part of me was and is, gone. it can't and won't come back. however, what i have done is i've regrown that part of me, into something new. something that is, entirely, my own. like a grafted branch on an injured tree, this stolen part of me grows anew.