The Crush.

Most cases of rape that can be found on the popular news channels are about strangers that randomly pick the victim, drug her, attack her and even murder her. It’s a fact that 1 out of 5 women have been sexually abused before their 20th birthday. But they don’t talk so much about all those cases of it being your best friend that does it, your husband, boyfriend, colleague…Family cases are brought up but; is it more about the shock factor, the horror factor than the actual news?
Do they publish it just to make you worry about wearing that skirt you bought last week, to make you think twice about being the independent woman that you are and walking home alone, living alone, to make you hold your child’s hand just that little bit tighter and trust a little bit less…Or do they actually give a damn?
Out of my circle of feminine friends, I admit this to be a small one as I tend to find myself more comfortable in the company of men (ironic considering…), maybe only one or two out of all the women I have had the pleasure of being close friends with have never admitted to have been violated in one way or another. Note the tiny number in that sentence and bear in mind that they could have suffered an event like the others but prefer not to tell the tale. That means, let’s say I have 12 female friends for example, 8 of them have been abused or raped, two have been victims of attempted rape or abuse and the other two we make no assumptions about what or what not has happened.

The part that makes my stomach drop, no matter how many times a similar story is told to me through tears, is that these people, the ones that have taken these women’s dignity, their privacy, their right to say no, the ones that have soiled that body that society already makes so damn hard to love “just the way we are”, making it impossible to ever see it the same way again, those people, are nearly always someone so close to them, you’d never suspect it. Why question that she’s quiet around a co-worker all of a sudden? They probably had a problem at work, what about her boyfriend? Maybe the love has fizzled… A husband? Money troubles!
There shall always be a reason she could be quiet, subdued.
But those people love her, right? They care for her, right?
She thought that too and that’s the devastation, right there.
How can you ever trust a person again when the person you’ve trusted the most is the one to crush you in the most intimate way…

 

There’s always going to be someone worse off than you but that isn’t a reason to belittle your pain or quiet down your story, you too are a survivor and that’s something to be proud of, not ashamed.

Countdown.

I really don’t know how much longer I can do this.

I used to brush it off, it was just a bad moment, it would pass.
That’s what people must think when they shout in the snow covered mountains… Just a moment of insanity and an avalanche was born, they suffocated.
I’m suffocating now, with forced normality, forced calm.

The world seems to grate a lot harder on me than on others, I used to think I was strong, I’m not anymore.
Like a rock turned to sand over time by the gentle caress of waves, their dancing foam slowly washing away everything that made me, me, just like the rock, I can’t recognize myself in this sand I’ve become.
Made of glass and bone, swept along, unable to be what I was destined to, waking up is painful now, just knowing I have a whole new day ahead of me, I can’t face it.
I’ve alienated all of those around me, been called crazy, a monster, maybe they’re right, I don’t know anymore, I don’t know me.

They tell me I’m hurting them but they don’t want me to leave yet it hurts so much to stay.
Is is more selfish of me to want to leave or of them to want to force me to stay?

I can hardly breathe, I wish I wasn’t anymore. I wish it would just stop, go dark and the pain would turn into numbness, unaware, I’d be free and freedom sounds like the loveliest thing.

The pacive part of me is turning to active, each time there are less reasons to stay, more to go. All I do is hurt people, wouldn’t it be better to hurt them in one go and then them never suffer me again?
Surely it would be preferable to a lifetime of annoyance, leaning my weight on them.
Surely they know nothing when they ask me to stay, why say it’s for them when they earlier said I only hurt them?

Do they only want me to stay to liberate themselves of guilt? The “I could have helped her, I should have…” the “whys” and “what ifs…” for the rest of their lives…?

I’ve began to think that way, each time more and more.

I have so much to give you world but my time is running out, I can feel it.

I feel myself slipping, my hands reaching for the medicine drawer, each time I care less the dosis I take, I only waver thinking of the consecuences if I fail.

How absurd is it that for trying and failing to take your own life you will be sentenced to jail… ? Your body in shreds along with your mind and all they think of is punishing you, instead of trying to give you help long ago needed. The world is fucked up, surely it isn’t just me that feels it, that can’t stand it… I can’t be alone but no matter how much I scream out, it seems to be in vain, for loving ears turn deaf to things they aren’t ready to deal with.

My throat is sore for begging, I don’t want to do this, I want help, I’ve spent years od my short life asking for it, screaming for it, how can nobody listen?

It terrifies me to contemplate the amount of people that have felt this way, lost in the system, ignored by the world for not being like them, silenced by the air that gave them life. All my life I’ve wanted to help them and now I can’t even help myself.

I beg of you, if you really love me, if anyone really cares,
take my hand, take me to a doctor, someone who will listen, I’ll go, I have a story to tell, I need to tell or surely it will kill me.

I won’t fight you, you claim to want me to stay, we’re on the same side, I’m fighting  for this too.

I always thought I could save myself but how can I save myself from…me?

I’m losing a battle that will determine the outcome of a war, don’t let me lose.

Please, somebody hear me.

Stop. Start.

Featured

30 Minutes.
Day One.

Have you ever felt so low that you get dizzy?
Just standing up is a huge effort… Damn, even breathing is painful because your chest weighs that much.
Bursts of anger surge through you with no fore warning. They just appear, destroying whatever was in front of you. All logic retreats into the darkness that is all around you.

They disappear just as fast as they come, finished before you understand what is happening to you and you’re left with a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve messed up again. You’ve broken it… You’ve hurt him.
And then the pounding resounds in your head, your vision turns blurry, all strenght long gone and all is left is you, a quivering mass of pain, all hope of being normal drained from your being…

Not every moment is this bad.
There’s worse too.
And better.

I was fine five hours ago. I was kissing my boyfriend good bye for work and dancing around with my dog. Sounds wonderful, I know. My life is wonderful, or it would be, if I were normal.

It’s mostly when I’m not occupying my mind that it takes over, but how do I keep busy when my body is failing me?
Every day I spend various hours on the computer looking for interesting jobs, courses, then when they call me to ask me for an interview I shy back, my mind is a web of excuses, terrified of leaving the house it can say anything. I envy its imagination. Yes, I refer to my own mind as another being. I stopped calling it mine when I realized I had no control over it.

“It’s just a bad month, just a hard time at the moment… You’ll be fine.”

Oh, it’s a wonderful world for the ignorant.

I wonder how long they could spend in my skin? Would they claw their way out? End it? Would they drink more? Sleep? Would they turn to drugs? Or could they handle it? Is it just me that can’t do this? Maybe it’s easy and I just can’t find the angle to make it right… It’s a photo that I’m unable to find the right light to capture, a recipe that just needs to be perfected. I can’t even control the flow of my thoughts. I’ve dragged the keyboard onto my lap as sitting correctly is too much for me right now. I can’t even look at the screen as the words waver and flash, is it the daily pain that makes me feel this way or is it this that makes me feel this pain as to be acknoledged?

It used to be just mental, I’d be sad, tired, but I’d sleep and it would all feel better for a few days. Now the pain is everywhere. My whole body is in tension, constantly, whilst I sleep, whilst I live every single day the pain is there. I can hardly talk these days as my throat is so tense, I can’t sing, I can’t scream… My mind is taking me prisioner and I am helpless as it does so.

I always find a reason not to end it, not to give up but sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.
I love him so much, my puppy, my pets but I find it so hard sometimes to convince myself that he speaks the truth when he tells me he needs me and no matter how dark the dark days are with me, the light ones are worth it.
I don’t leave for the fear of the pain that I could cause others, but what about me?
What about me?
I’m so tired.
I need help.

And I have no idea where to turn.

Fuck you 30 minutes of writing. You’ve just made this a whole lotta not better.
Let’s see how tommorrow goes…