Wake up, me!
December 23, 2010 § Leave a comment
I decided to wake this blog up again. I guess it’s some sort of defence mechanism, a response to having so much else to do. And what day to restart it too, the day before christmas. Yes, we celebrate on the 24 here in Sweden.
There has been so much this year. Mostly it’s been about rape. For the first time in my life, I have a boyfriend who is brave enough to stick around and listen, and to understand that if I break down crying, it’s not his fault. He is enough of a person to listen to me when I talk about how our culture has ruined my sexuality, because as a woman I learn to “give” sex, not have sex. I learn that sex is something that I either grant, or people take from me. As Sally says in Coupling (one of the best series ever by the way) : “We got what they want, and we gotta sit on it”
And you know what happens after years and years of just accepting that shit has happened to you, and you could never ever talk about it? When you finally open you mouth and start speaking up? You fall apart. You cry, you scream, you fall. Because suddenly all that sorrow, all that anger comes back. Every. Damn. Second. I’ve started to get physical reactions too, my body is acting strange, my stress-shoulder (it goes up when I get too stressed) is in so much pain I whimper if someone pushes it, I go all stiff if anybody so much as nudges me without asking first. I can’t take sexjokes. I can’t stand being touched in certain ways. I get panic attacks. I fall apart.
That is what happened. I’m still holding back from the big fall, when I’ll have to handle that one of the guys called me up and called me a liar. Why? Well, my best friend started dating him even though she knew what he did to me. And I, after quite a long while, broke contact with her. And he got mad at me for making her sad. His comment was: “You know, it wasn’t rape, I didn’t see it that way at least“. I hung up. We haven’t spoken since. I have nightmares about seeing him, and daydreams about clawing his eyes out. I wish I would have told the police. But I pretended to like it to get away. They would never believe me.
It’s fascinating. Everytime I mention that time, I start getting all worked up, I can’t stop talking or writing. It’s still a big soar. I would love to get over it. Probably wont happen.
But the boyfriend listens. He listens and he holds me and he stays with me and he does his best to understand me. And even though this has been one of the scariest years, I’m so grateful.