It's been a while since I've felt so triggered; I can't say I miss these feelings, the bleak numbness, the hollow pit in my stomach, the sense that somehow the world isn't quite real, or that I am not totally in the world right now.
I'm not totally sure what brought it on this morning, but I can guess. Last night, a girl I do not really know well but did meet once, a new-ish brother of the fraternity I both love and hate for their role in my assault, posted a link on Facebook to a NYT op-ed condemning the media for their abhorrent responses to Lara Logan's gang rape and Scott Brown's story of childhood molestation. I commented on her link that I have unfortunately heard some of those comments in person myself, and she replied that she wondered if people would say these things if the victim was their daughter. Without really thinking too much about it at the time, I then replied that I was a survivor of assault, and that I had heard/been told awful things myself by "friends." This morning, she replied that she was sorry that my friends hadn't been there for me, and how disappointing a response that was.
I wonder if she knows that the people I am talking about are her brothers in that frat.
Last night I dreamed about them again. Not about the rape itself anymore-- I almost never dream about the event itself, and truth be told, I think its hold on my emotions is much less than the betrayal, hurt, and anger I still feel when I think about the aftermath. I dreamt about B*, the one person I hate more than anything in this world, more than the man who raped me. In the dream I remember crying tears of frustration and anger at B's smug little face saying things to me that no rape victim should ever have to hear from anyone. I dreamt of him grabbing hold of me to reinforce his threats, and my dream self kicked and cried and lashed out while still feeling helpless. And in my dream those people that were supposed to be my friends and brothers all turned a blind eye to the victim-blaming poison B* was spouting. My dream was real life all over again. Last night I was flooded with the very same emotions that hindered my recovery for so long-- the dismay at seeing "friends" stand by B* and continue to be friends with the one person I would happily condemn to a life of misery.
I hate this. I hate him. I hate the fact that I want so badly to never return to campus and to cut ties with all these people who, consciously or not, hurt me for so long, but I still waver. I have quit and then rejoined and quit again from their email lists. I don't know what keeps me still occasionally fondly referring to them as "my frat" before remembering what they did.
I feel like sh*t. I know that I will never fully heal until I can stop seething with anger at B* and his stupid little cronies that used to be my friends. To this day hearing his name or even thinking about him causes an immediate physical response in me, a helpless frustration, a fury that threatens to boil over, an urge to take revenge and ruin his life in any way I could. It burns me that his smug little self is living a happy life somewhere without ever being punished by anyone or feeling any smidgen of remorse for being the worst jerkface I have ever known. Some days my only outlet to that fury is to think about the worst curse I could wish upon him, a way to make his life full of failure and misery that he caused himself, so that he couldn't play the martyr. I hate him so much, yet I will never receive any satisfaction. I know I have to let this go, but I can't for the life of me figure out how.
I suppose the only thing I can do to give me any measure of closure is to cut ties with those people in any way I can. Deleting them on Facebook sounds so terribly superficial and useless, but if it helps me get back to functioning in the real world for now, then so be it. *sigh*