Brain spew in response to an article that I couldn't finish reading, just yet...

Rape and rape discourse are important causes to me. They never won't be. I have been talking about them for years. I have been working through my own recovery for a decade. So, why do I want to cry upon reading an account from someone who worked at a rape crisis center? Normally, I would be filled with righteous fury and talk about the issues presented and be all intellectual about it. Why is this account so...personal? Have I really not internalized what happened to me? Have I just let it sit in my brain, not allowing it to filter into my heart so that I can actually mourn? My dad is a ghost, now - caught between alive and dead, in my my mind. I know that he hasn't passed - that he's living in Texas and trying to build a new life for himself and that there are still people who see him. But all I have left are the spectres of what he left me. The pain. The love. The betrayal. The fear. The growth. The disgust. Part of me wants to confront him. To spit in his face, to hit him, to kill him, to cry and wail at him, demanding answers that he won't ever be able to give.

Maybe, it would be easier if he were dead. Then, I wouldn't have to think of him as a person, anymore. He would face his judgement day, stare his God in the face and give the answers that I won't ever get. Strong, Independent Woman broken down to a small girl. Again. And I wish that I still had my rigid walls and two-way mirrors, so that I could pretend not to be wounded, broken, damaged.

**The article that instigated this post is here: http://badassdigest.com/2013/11/14/we-need-to-change-how-we-talk-about-rape. It's a FANTASTIC article. I just got to the point about "My dad will kill me" and I, well, brain spewed**

Comments

  1. UnknownNovember 26, 2013 at 1:44 PM

    You are so much more than the events that happened to you at the hands of this person! Your past is your past and you have become an amazing person who has touched so many and you are loved by so many.

    ReplyDelete

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