"Today's the day it's going to happen."

I had that odd thought this morning on the bus as I was going to my therapy appointment at the ungodly hour of 7:30am. I blinked when I heard myself say it. What was with the future tense, the idea that it's going to happen? I didn't know and I guess I still don't know. It's not really the purpose of this post either-- I just thought it was a compelling start.

I did pretty well this week. Some rough moments at the beginning of the week after D* left, but I got through the week, finished my problem set, did my lab, and even did pretty well on a midterm exam. There weren't any bad dreams or triggers. Last night, when I got on the bus to return home after the exam, there was a guy on the bus who looked exactly like Him. I stumbled a little, both mentally and physically, but surprised myself by calmly moving to a seat where I couldn't see him and then promptly zoning out instead of having a crazy anxiety attack.

This morning at the therapy session I talked about how unnerved I was that I wasn't falling apart. Usually the week leading up to the anniversary is bad. This year it's even worse because March 25th actually falls on a Friday, which makes it seem all the more real, more striking. But I didn't become a total failing, flailing mess this week, and somehow that felt... wrong. I brainstormed with my therapist and came up with two noticed thoughts:

1) An oldie but a goodie: "Someone who has truly been through an awful event will always feel triggered, so if I don't feel bad when I ought to, that means the Event really wasn't that bad in the first place and I've been lying to myself and everyone (for attention? for pity? who knows)."

I've had that belief for years, and it's definitely been hindering my healing process because it actively keeps me from letting myself heal.

2) "The fact that I don't feel bad right now means that it's all just waiting to drop a catastrophic bomb on my head later."

This is the worry-thought, the one that tries to be helpful and protective but really doesn't do me much good.


I was on the border of calm/numb this morning during therapy, possibly partially due to being tired as well from not enough sleep (no bad dreams or insomnia, just bad time management choices). I talked about the above thoughts with my therapist but I think I was a bit dissociated; nothing really got through to me. The only thing that stuck a little was an analogy I made, where I mentioned the study that showed that when people complain, trying to problem-solve usually doesn't help. However, acknowledging and agreeing that the subject of their complaint is bad/frustrating/etc. actually appeases them instead. I don't remember why I brought that up, but something kind of clicked and led to the idea that maybe I should try to sit and non-judgmentally acknowledge those Noticed Thoughts up there for a while, because clearly problem solving hasn't worked-- I've been working on those thoughts for quite a while-- but maybe thinking about why they're there instead of determinedly trying to obliterate them could help.

What my therapist and I came up with was that maybe it might be a mutated version of a few different adaptive behaviors/thoughts. People often understand themselves or see things about themselves through others' eyes. When I first started having severe depression, I went to friends and needed to see that they saw what I felt, to receive that external validation. Another beneficial behavior is surrounding yourself with and seeking out people who are helpful, understanding, supportive. Both those things make sense and seem okay, but they have combined and mutated into a belief that I have to convince others that something bad really did happen to me or it wasn't actually that bad to begin with, and that I have to do that forever.

I asked her if this was normal behavior for someone healing, and she said it's normal not to trust the signs of healing, because feeling okay is such a foreign feeling after you've been hurt for so long. That makes sense to me, but I feel like it's not the whole picture. I feel like I almost got to some kind of epiphany about what was going on during the session, but didn't quite reach it.


I actually started writing this post because I took an afternoon nap and woke up after a horrific dream feeling tense and scared and dissociated. I got a little sidetracked with talking about this morning's therapy because I thought I should present the whole picture of today, but really this post was going to be about how I feel now. It's gotten a little better since I started writing this post, but I was so tense that my muscles all over my body hurt. When I was thrown out of my dream into sudden wakefulness, the world seemed different, distant. My body wanted to tense up and curl up and stay still and small and watchful. I was taking tiny little breaths and moving as little as possible, out of fear or wariness for some unknown. I tried reading a book of comforting words to survivors; while the words were nice, nothing really reached me. I tried calling D* but couldn't get through. I tried to cry but I couldn't. I felt frozen, unable to get out of bed, but I knew I needed to do something. So I got myself here, to the computer, with the hopes that writing might help. I'm not as tense anymore, but I still feel dissociated. It's better, I guess. D* is coming down to be with me tonight, and I have a long list of things I have to do before he gets here.

Oh, one other thing from therapy that might be worth mentioning. In previous years, I have tried to stay up till at least 2 or 3am, in an attempt to somehow acknowledge the gravity of what happened when it happened, to sit and feel and be with those feelings and accept. However, tomorrow morning I have lab at 9am, so I have to go to bed early and I can't do that this year. The analogy popped into my head that it was a little like being a kid who had to go to bed early and miss New Year's. It feels weird, skipping over such an important time. It makes me uncomfortable. It's like a bad version of going to sleep before Daylight Savings Time takes effect and suddenly having things be different in the morning without an explanation I was there to see; like something happening in the middle of the night and I wasn't there to acknowledge and accept and understand it. I don't know, I just don't like the fact that I can't truly commemorate, for lack of a better word, the Event properly. It feels like tonight won't be the same, won't be complete somehow. I don't know how this will affect the rest of my weekend, but in a moment of either sanity or insanity, I went ahead and scheduled visits with potential roommates for Saturday afternoon and Sunday, trying to treat this like a normal weekend, I guess. We'll see how it goes...?

Okay. I have to get myself to at least do some basic things like clean up the room and change the sheets and do laundry. I have to write up the pre-lab for tomorrow, but that takes more concentration so it can wait. *takes a deep breath* Onwards and forwards.

Three Years.

This weekend will mark three years since the Event. March 25th/26th also happens to fall on a Friday/Saturday this year, which makes it all the more difficult. Three years seems like both a long time and a short time since my life broke apart and I had to put it back together.

I've already cried a lot just thinking about it. I'm terrified I won't be able to hold it together this week; I can't afford to be triggered and depressed constantly because I have a midterm exam, problem set, and two labs for my classes. There's so much riding on this week, so much I have to fight for and do.

I'm scared. :-/

If anyone figures out how to let go of rage, please let me know.

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*

See No Evil, Hear No Evil...?

From my apartment I can hear the fights of the couple across the hall from me. The screaming, the crying, the sound of things being thrown or broken...sometimes they catapult me back involuntarily to my past. A little bit of my family situation, but mostly two of the abusive relationships I was in before D*. Crying several times a day was the norm, as was being yelled at and insulted. Things were not thrown that often, but the few times it happened really stuck with me, bolstered by nightmarish memories of growing up. I was completely miserable. I was too afraid to end the relationship because I had been stripped of all my friendships and support networks and led to believe that I was too incompetent to be alone. If I had had someone, anyone, reach out to me, acknowledge what was happening, ask if I was okay, any sign of support, I might have found the strength to stand up and end an emotionally-abusive and draining relationship, but there was nothing for months and months and months.

I am very conflicted about the role of "bystanders," if you will, in abusive relationships. The worst relationship for me took place in the very same coed fraternity house in which I was raped. This was when I had first transferred to Dartmouth and didn't know anyone. People in that frat had similar interests to me, and I enjoyed going there. I got into a relationship much too quickly and became isolated from everyone, even though I pretty much lived with him in that house. When things turned sour and he and I started fighting, I knew everyone could hear it. (The walls were paper-thin and you could hear a normal conversation in one room from the next room over.) I was too intimidated to approach these people that I sort of knew but wasn't sure I was really friends with, and for six months, no one ever approached me.

To call the situation awkward was a huge understatement. I saw my neighbors in the social spaces of the house, but I had to keep up the friendly facade of talking about classes and every day chit chat, even though part of me screamed inside Don't you hear me? Won't you help? But they weren't really close friends, and I knew I was on my own.

A couple months into our fighting-and-crying phase, my then-boyfriend received one email from someone asking if he was okay. When I heard that, a surge of jealousy and desperation rose within me. Why couldn't I have received one? If I had, I might have spilled out all my misery and been able to ask for help. But I didn't have the courage to just go to someone and bare my soul unwarranted, and so I continued to stay shut-in. I was lonely even though I was surrounded by people. That kind of loneliness is the worst-- the kind where it's not about absence of people, but rather absence of interest. People politely looking away, shutting their ears and eyes, because they're not interested or because they think that's what they're supposed to do.

Because of my past, I have always urged people to speak up and say something if someone they know seems trapped in an unhappy relationship. I have done so myself, after witnessing a friend and the very unhealthy dynamic in his relationship. But I was surprised at the reaction I got-- he closed up, assuring me that everything was fine, even though it clearly wasn't. All I could do was just be a friend on the sidelines and hope all was well. But at least I was glad I had expressed my support and willingness to listen if help was ever needed.

On the other end, when I talked to friends about reaching out to other people, they expressed concern about prying into people's private matters, and said it was better to just wait and see. I was terribly confused. Why were my beliefs so very different from theirs? I would think that it is better to express care and concern and be brushed off than to not do so at all while someone hopes and waits. The friends I spoke to were so reluctant to bring up the topic even when there was evidence of other unhealthy relationships in the House. They were content to just wait until the explosive breakup happened, and then swoop in with care and comfort. I didn't understand then, and I still don't understand now. Is it that they were worried someone might be shamed by being approached about his/her relationship? Would being asked if they needed help be that embarrassing and awful? Is it about losing face? I don't understand.

To me, this culture of caution and privacy is awfully close to being dangerous. It seems like avoidance. Maybe part of it is the bystander effect-- if I see the signs then other people must too, so someone will probably handle it and it doesn't have to be me. Maybe part of it is projecting embarrassment or denial onto the person and thinking they won't want to be asked if they are okay. Maybe it's fear that the response will be so strong and angry that the friendship is harmed. I don't know what combination of reasons it is, but my heart breaks to think there are other people hoping someone will reach out to them and waiting, in vain.

So coming back to the present-- I suppose I am in even more of a dilemma here, because I don't really know my neighbors. The guy asked to borrow a vacuum once, and I know his first name. That's it. In terms of feasibility, it doesn't really seem like there's anything I can do, but I feel so helpless just sitting around. Any kind of inquiry I could make might be mistaken as a complaint that they're too loud or disruptive, which isn't what I would intend at all. (From experience, the last thing an abused person needs is to have someone complain that their fights are too loud.) It really does seem like there's nothing I can do, and it grates on me. I wish there were more I could do to help people in situations similar to my own. :-/

Frat Update

It's funny-- the physical and emotional reactions I have to someone talking about rape or something reminding me of my own event are never as bad as the ones I have in response to my fraternity.

They have resumed talks (again, for the third time?) about changing the permanency clause, thanks to a good friend of mine. A few minutes ago, an alum sent an email to a mailing list about it. When the event happened two and a half years ago, and during the few months afterwards, I remember him being a bit of an insensitive jerk about the whole thing. When I read his email just now, my heart started pounding. I feel chilled and very tense and everything around me feels dulled down and unreal. With one email, my world has been flipped around. I haven't had physical symptoms this bad for a long time.

We'll see how this discussion thread goes. I guess my body is just gearing up for an emotionally upsetting and tumultuous fight. I don't know why I still care about this issue, but the fact of the matter is that I do, despite my best efforts to change that.

I'll try to still study for my organic chemistry exam, even though I feel like this. At least tomorrow I get to see D*, and we're going to try to go dancing as part of our therapy assignment. (More on that later.)

Bullying: I do not think the problem is what you think it is.

(Princess Bride reference aside, let's call this "Adults and Cowardice.")


Bullying. You've all heard about it recently-- the heartbreaking stories of gay children and teens driven to suicide, and the 14-year-old girl who hanged herself after being bullied for coming out as a rape survivor. Bullying has suddenly become a big deal. Great, you might think, people might actually support anti-bullying programs in schools now that numerous victims have already died. But no. Christian groups like Focus on the Family argue that anti-bullying programs "push the gay agenda." A Michigan high school teacher was suspended for kicking a student out of class who made a homophobic comment. What is this, people? Jezebel has got it totally right: it's time schools quit treating homophobia like it's a valid opinion worth respecting. Homophobic hate speech is no different from racism, and you wouldn't allow that in your schools now, would you?

One recent argument I heard against homosexual couples was that the children that gay couples might adopt would be harmed. A slew of studies have shown that this is not the case. (That article links to several different reports and studies.) As far as studies go, the most recent one was fairly scientifically rigorous: the measurement of social development and psychological health of the children was not based on the opinions of their parents alone but also of outside observers, like teachers and caregivers, and a control group of heterosexual couples was used. The conclusion? Quality of parenting determines the psychological health of the child, not the sexual orientation of the parents. From a policy standpoint, the data provide no justification for denying lesbian and gay adults from adopting children.

But won't children of gay and lesbian parents be bullied in school, you might ask? Yes, there is a high likelihood that they will. However, obese children, ethnic minorities, economically disadvantaged children, even smart children get bullied too. The solution to the bullying problem is to address the bullying, not use it as a reason to prohibit gay couples from adopting children.

When I was in elementary school, I was bullied every day. Sometimes it was for being Asian in a neighborhood of rich white kids; sometimes it was for being a smart girl; but usually it was about my physical appearance. I got picked on for having a "mustache," the unfortunate result of having black hair but light skin. This bullying went on for years and only got worse as the tormentors grew in vocabulary and cleverness. It was a sly comment here, a rude gesture there. All things that might have been caught and reprimanded in kindergarten but ironically were ignored in sixth grade. I cried every day when I came home from school. Finally, I told my parents, and they spoke to my teacher about the bullying.

Her response? "That happened to me growing up too. You can buy products at CVS to bleach that hair."

My parents accepted that as an answer. So did I, at the time. Only after I left for college and had the ability to look back on those years without overwhelming bitterness did I realize how wrong a response that was. Where was the apology for letting this hateful bullying happen right under her nose? More importantly, where was the action in response to it? Even after my parents met with her, she never spoke up or stood up for me against the bullies. They never got in trouble, even though now she couldn't say she didn't know it was happening.

This is the huge problem with bullying nowadays. It is easier for teachers and administrators to coerce the bullied into changing than it is to confront the bullies themselves. Society already does its fair share of looking down upon the marginalized and pressuring them to change their identities; that makes it far too easy for adults to do it under the guise of looking out for the child's best interests when it is in fact a cowardly way of handling the problem.

If gay children are bullied, don't try to change them-- stop the bullying. If children of gay parents are bullied, don't prohibit gay couples from adopting-- stop the bullying. The problem is not why these children are the way they are. The problem lies with the parents, teachers, and administrators who turn a blind eye to the hateful words and actions that shouldn't be tolerated in the first place.

Why is this such a hard concept for policy-makers to understand? It's not like bullying is a valuable skill that children need to learn to grow into healthy, capable adults. (And if it is, well, something is grievously wrong with our society.) Stop bullying. Make sure kids understand that it is wrong, it is hurtful, and it reflects badly on them, not their victims. Give victims support. Stand up and say that bullying will not be tolerated in my classroom/school. And actually follow through with that-- watch for instances of bullying and address it every time it happens, not just when you feel like it.

No one should have to change who they are in order to go to school and not be picked on constantly. It's not about "pushing the gay agenda" or "protecting freedom of speech"; it's about creating a healthy environment for children to learn and grow in. Racism, classism, homophobia, and all other forms of hate speech are not valid opinions to be respected. Period.



On a more heartwarming note, here are two things that refresh my faith in humanity:

A 14-year-old student gave an eloquent speech in defense of the high school teacher that took a stand against homophobia. I was touched.

A mother proudly defended her son's right to wear whatever he wants for Halloween and correctly points to other mothers' judgmental attitudes as the problem. This was an amazing and uplifting piece to read.

Rape Jokes, Part 3 -- Confronting People

I am mentally and emotionally burnt out from the last two days. It has been a constant cycle between trigger-induced numbness and seething anger that I have had to control enough to do three problem sets for school. While I was waiting for my organic chemistry lecture to start this evening, I thought I would turn my exhausting ordeal into something productive. So, since my recent experiences have told me that some people need help with this, welcome to:


How to tell if you are using the word "rape" appropriately in everyday discourse (A Guide For Dummies)

It's so simple anyone can follow it, I promise. It involves asking yourself one question.

Am I trying to be funny (edgy, witty, ironic, sarcastic, etc.)?


If you are, then your answer is no. No. NO. You are horribly abusing the term. Rape is not funny. You are not funny (or witty, or cool). Being offensive is not "cool." Contributing your ugly, unwanted, unneeded two cents to a culture that is already violence-insensitive and victim-shaming is not "cool." Triggering rape victims and reminding them of the horror they survived is not "cool." There is nothing about being an ignorant jerk that makes you cool or funny. Capice?

Now let's say you slipped up, made a rape joke, and got called out on it. Let's talk about your choices now.

a) Apologize and don't do it again. (No, don't just promise not to do it again-- actually don't. Ignorance isn't an excuse after the first time you get called out on it.)

b) Call the person who asked you not to do it "selfish" and accuse her of expecting the world to revolve around her.

c) Tell the person who asked you not to do it that it's a free country and you can do what you damn well please.

d) Say that you think they're funny and other people do too so you're going to keep making them anyway.

e) Delete the polite Facebook comment asking you to use a different analogy and then proceed to "like" every other joke about or reference to rape in the comments following the post.


You might be thinking, hm, the last four choices seem awfully specific and full of bitterness, and if so, you are quite correct. Those are all responses that I've personally received after asking someone (in person) to stop making rape jokes or (online) requesting that they delete a particular status and repost using a better analogy.

The situation described in choice (e) happened on Wednesday and really pissed me off. I have been struggling to sit with my feelings and still function like a normal person and go to class and do homework the last two days, even though inside I feel like a cold, barren tundra filled only with painful memories and numbness or a raging inferno of anger and desire-to-introduce-person-to-my-fist-or-other-forms-of-pain-equaling-what-I-feel-every-time-someone-makes-a-g*ddamn-rape-joke. It's really hard to do that for two days. And it's all because of a careless comment made by someone who thought he was being cool and edgy, and the immature response to my polite request.

I sent a message to that person that reads as follows:

Dear X,

Yesterday you made a status update that I found to be offensive and in poor taste. I left a comment politely asking you to use a different analogy that would not trigger or trivialize rape victims. I was not alone in the sentiment-- two of your friends clicked "like" on my request. Yet your response was to delete my comment and "like" every other comment on your post that made a rape joke or reference.

I found that to be a hurtful and immature response. If you can find something funny about pain, shame, and terror, please enlighten me, because I just don't see it. You're probably thinking "it was a joke-- no one gets raped by elephants." Please remember that even careless and casual references you might make can affect people, even if it's not the exact situation and you think you're being edgy or witty or funny. Rape is not funny. Period. This insensitivity is one of the reasons we live in a culture that trivializes rape and shames victims.


Sincerely,
Me

If he writes anything back, I will post part II of this saga.


The point of this post (apart from letting me rant) was to ask you to help spread the word that rape jokes are inappropriate. Not only are they seriously not funny, but they are also hurtful to people who have already gone through more trauma than anyone ever should. Please, if you hear or see someone use "rape" in anything but a serious and sensitive context to mean nonconsensual sex, call them out on it. As demonstrated in this unrelated but still very awesome video, most people who have these attitudes are ignorant and/or cowards. If they were simply ignorant, maybe they'll realize the error of their ways. If they're cowards, then maybe they'll stop if enough people confront them. Either way, a changed mind or a shut mouth would do the world good.