VIVID MEMORIES: RAPE Originally published on 8/7/2016
“It's not that I don't feel the pain it's just I'm not afraid of hurting anymore.” ~Paramore (Song: Last Hope)
Sometimes the memories are so vivid.
I sit watching Netflix, I stand washing my hair in the shower, or I kneel sweeping the floor, and it all comes back in an instant. Just yesterday I was okay and talking about it. In fact I was laughing about it.
Flashes of the night flow through my head. We are laughing and having a good time. I take another shot of gin. We laugh about friends, and bets we had made. I take another shot, but this time rum. It hits me, and I know that shot was my last for the night.
Oh wait. I was wrong, there is still rum left and beer and he has already poured some gin for me. I guess I’ll have more.
Time passes. I don’t how long, but then there are just 2 shots left. He takes one, and insists I have the last. I say no, I had enough, and that I really feel the alcohol, and shouldn’t have another. He continues to urge me, so eventually I give in. What is just one more shot?
I don’t remember the rest of the night. I blacked out. However I can recall a few moments. I was pushed over onto my back so that he loomed over me. My hair was sprawled uncomfortably over my face. If this is happening, I wanted to at least be as comfortable as I could, so I pushed it aside. I black out, and the next thing I can remember is that I am concerned. I suddenly realize that it has been 2 weeks, and that means timing is perfect. I reach for a condom. I drunkenly open it, and with blurred vision and slow movements quickly try to put it on him. He grabs it and does it himself. He then wraps his arms round me and once again flips me over, and I lay there unsure, weak, limp, and helpless.
I do not remember any of that the next morning though. I thought I wanted it. I thought I planned it, I thought it was just your typical drunken night. After all it was only the second time I had ever drank, and I didn’t know anything about parties, casual gatherings or drinking, and since he was there for my first drunken experience, I trusted him.
There are days when the scenes from the night play in my head. They play from my perspective, and in a third person omniscient point of view. Of course not until nearly a year after the incident did they. The scenes played in a third person limited view up until that point. I had not known it was rape. I thought it was a one night stand, and since neither of us liked the idea of that we decided to go on a date. I cried to friends because I lost my virginity. I felt empty because I betrayed God. I broke my promises. I ate ice cream sheepishly and spooned more into my mouth before the previous spoonful had reached my taste buds. I thought I regretted it, but no… I was raped. I didn’t want it, and never was able to express that.
There are days when the scenes from the night play in my head, and I try to fight back tears. I try to fight back the panic attack. So I breathe deeply, I name all the items I can see around me and describe them aloud. It doesn’t always work. I move into the fetal position dazed, or become catatonic. My breath shortens and I twitch. My throat closes and a lump grows blocking more air from my lungs. In the summer it is worse. I am wearing shorts. Clothes that expose some thigh and my shoulders. I feel violated, but cannot move to grab a blanket or change. I return to feeling unsure, weak, limp, and helpless.
At times the only thing that helps is alcohol even when I’m nauseous. That scares me. I don’t dare drink gin or rum, but wine and vodka are fair game.
Love & Faith,
Melanie J. Lofgren