I Live In That Soundproof Box Now…

Thursday, January 5th, 2017

[Trigger warning: Details of sexual assault mentioned in this post.]

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…

In one of my posts on sexual assault,¬† I said I felt like I was in a soundproof visual-proof-ish box… It was like I was locked inside of that box that day. And then I never got out. It has remained locked around me this whole time.

The only difference is… I imagined it as like I guess one of those maybe one way mirrors – where I could see him, but I, for some reason, just could not be seen.

I laid there so lifeless as it happened¬†(after I’d already said he was making me uncomfortable, after I’d tried to be heard by speaking out loud) After I could not be heard, I just laid there – so in shock, so confused, even somewhat afraid. Just sad and lifeless and still.

But in my head, I just imagined pounding – I mean pounding – on that 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 from the outside… 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 someone’s eye and touch their finger…

And then that piece grows back 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 still see me – can still connect with me. They open up. They look me in the eyes – like really look at them…

And I feel like I look back as someone who just can’t actually touch them – can’t feel them. Can’t connect.

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