[Trigger warning: Details of sexual assault mentioned in this post.]
[This is from the sexual assault series of blog posts, if you’d like to read any more on it.]
This post is going to probably sound sad and bleak. And my life is not totally sad and bleak. But I am dealing with tough things. And I think it’s important to talk about that experience too…
At one point (while talking about sexual assault), I said I felt like I was in a soundproof visual-proof-ish box when it happened. Like, like I was locked inside of that metaphorical box that day. And then I never got out. It has remained locked around me this whole time.
The only difference is… When I talked about feeling that way during the incident, I imagined it as like I guess one of those maybe one way mirrors – where I could see him, but, for some reason, I could not be seen.
I laid there so lifeless as it happened. After I could not be heard (saying so much out loud, crying, trying), I just laid there – so in shock, so confused, even somewhat afraid – just sad and lifeless and still.
But in my head – the girl inside who had been shut down, who was dying to get out of that situation – I imagined pounding – I mean pounding – on that (metaphorical) box. Hair swirling everywhere as my head whips around, muscles tightening as my arms punch up – my hands getting all bruised and cut up and bloody as they hit the glass over and over and over. But I can’t get out.
And now I live inside of that box, only I feel like the view has changed flipped… No longer can I not be seen. Everyone can see me. Everyone can try to connect with me… But I can’t touch them. My hand only meets the glass.
Every once in a while, I am able to maneuver a little piece off of the glass, and the air gets in. The full fresh air with new sounds and all of that, it gets in. And maybe I can see a small bit of someone, and maybe even almost reach out and touch them, like barely touch their finger or something…
And then that piece snaps back into place, and I can no longer touch that person…
I don’t connect as well anymore. Sometimes I don’t connect at all… It is so weird, because it seems like people maybe still see me – can maybe even still connect with me. They open up. They look me in the eyes – some people really look at me…
And I feel like I look back as someone who just can’t actually touch them – can’t feel them. Can’t connect.
[*Deep sigh*]
[To see all the posts from this series, you can go to the sexual assault page.]