[This is another post in the sexual assault series.]
Sometimes, it becomes soooooo easy to get lost in anyone else’s words of “well, why didn’t you do more? Why didn’t you fight back harder?” (And the answers are like, “Well, he was threatening – especially the second time, and it was a split-second decision that it seemed very unsafe to do anything else.) I mean, really. (Funny, how I’m in the midst of writing a post about not questioning myself and then I take a moment to question myself.)
But really, every time I run that second time in my head when I was crying beneath him… It was. not. safe. to. do. anything. else. but. lay. there. and. cry. It just wasn’t.
In the way he’d been treating me in the week leading up to that, he was getting progressively scarier and harder to deal with.
There was one night where he’d made me feel so small and powerless and trapped, I’d thrown up all night long. And that all stemmed from, I think something like me just sending him a selfie, trying to be cute, and him making fun of me and my face and it weirdly spiraling out of control from there (I guess partially ’cause I could never “take a joke” [his gas lighting and insults, etc al]). I dunno… Anyway.
If vomiting all night from interacting with this emotionally abusive man who made me feel like utter garbage happens when I don’t even do anything “wrong,” when I’m just being nice and silly – if (another example) his anger problem rears it’s ugly head when I just say (in the most non-threatening tone on earth), “oh, you erased the hash marks we made on your chalkboard” [they were hash marks about how many orgasms I’d had in one day, and I was trying to funnily/sexily suggest that I guess we’d just have to do it again, wink wink… So, trying to just be cute and light and fun and the anger problems comes out…] and then I’m made me feel like I shouldn’t even be allowed to speak – then what on earth makes me feel like I’m gonna be okay if I dare fight back or say anything out of turn?
He’s on top me.
He’s literally not listening at all what I’ve been saying in the time learning up to that.
He’s relentlessly making fun of me for being so uncomfortable (and more), and he does not get off or give me any space, while being well aware I’m uncomfortable because I’m crying and I’ve said out loud he’s making me uncomfortable and he’s laughing at that fact…
So, like, how exactly do we think it would’ve gone if I’d tried to push him off me. I can only begin to fathom the wrath I would’ve suffered.
It was not a safe situation, and it felt so much safer (it really felt like the only option) to just lay there.