What Happened To Me

13: Where it all Began.

For years I’ve had a part of me that was screaming, desperate to be let out. I can feel it, something inside of me trying to break through. Sometimes it’s so strong it becomes a physical pain in my chest.

It feels like a part of me is missing, like I don’t really know myself.

There’s something different about me. I’ve always felt completely alone. I can detach from anyone, even my parents and siblings. I have moments when I feel nothing for them.

I never understood why I’ve been learning to connect with my friends and care more about them than I do my own family. And I feel like a monster for feeling this way.

A few months ago, in maybe June, I was struggling to understand some things about myself.

All through my dating relationship, I’ve been deeply afraid of physical contact. Even holding hands caused a panic attack for me. My man has been very patient with me though, holding me in his arms as I sobbed without either of us having a clue why.

I’ve always had a discomfort with touch, and figured it was because I was hit and otherwise harmed by a teacher at the age of 9. I also knew I had PTSD since then.

But there was something I didn’t know, and it nagged at my mind. There was a nightmare I’d had repeatedly for about a year, along with a feeling that overcame me whenever I was in the dark. And this dream was so so real…

It had nagged at my mind for several months during dating, and I decided at last that if I was going to marry this man, I needed to just tell him things that were on my mind, even if I wasn’t comfortable with it.

So, during a drive we were on, I opened the topic. The second I began to speak, I realized why I had hidden this nightmare from everyone in my life. I’d hidden it because I didn’t want it to be real.

And if I was that afraid of it being real, it had to be. My mind tried so so hard to avoid it, convincing me it was just a nightmare, nothing to think about…

I’d had repeated dreams where I’d be lying in my bed sleeping, and then suddenly realize there was someone watching me. Sometimes this large, dark figure would just stand and stare at me. And I’d freeze, unable to move or scream.

But other times, he came towards me, and I would realize that I was completely powerless to stop him. And he would touch me. His hands going between my legs.

The dreams were so real, I could feel his touch. And I can never forget that.

It took me probably about an hour to get those words out, to tell my boyfriend (Now Fiance), that I had nightmares about being molested. And when I made the decision to tell him, I realized it could actually be true.

I shook so badly, and cried so hard. I have the most amazing man, and he was there to hold me, remind me that I’m safe and nothing had changed between us. He helped me to be able to handle the realization that this had really happened, that it was not just a nightmare but a flashback.

Without his help, I would’ve completely dissociated again and convinced myself it wasn’t real. My mind tried so so hard to avoid it. I even had the thought ‘well that was so many years ago it practically happened to a different person’. It’s crazy what a mind does to avoid reality.

But it made too much sense to keep ignoring it;

I’ve been extremely afraid of the dark since I was pretty young, scared enough that I’d have so many nightlights to make sure there wasn’t a single shadow in my room.

I’m hypervigilant at night, jumping horribly at every sound, totally panicking a lot of the night.

I get bad anxiety at night, most nights. I manage it well if I go to bed early enough and sleep enough, but if I’m up late the anxiety gets bad.

When I was 7, I had a character in my play that had a history of having been abused and molested. This is not a normal thought of a young child. Children try to process things through play, and will play a concept over and over to try making sense of it. This character remains in my head to this day, a way of letting out my trapped feelings.

I’ve always had a lot of fear that someone would come up behind me in crowds and start touching me.

I get triggered by children crying.

My nephew was crying one night and although I knew exactly why, I totally panicked and my first thought was ‘he’s being molested’, even though I knew who he was with and they would never do that, and I knew why he was crying. I had expected the cries, but I nearly ran to save him from the harm he wasn’t experiencing.

Growing up and traveling, kids often have to share beds because it’s too expensive to rent a second room. But I was terrified and couldn’t sleep much during these nights. Afraid of being touched.

There’s simply too much that makes sense. I cannot deny it anymore. #metoo