An ugly word

It is with added difficulty that I continue to share but it is worth it. There are many ugly words out there that can harm us. We are taught the "sticks and stones" ditty, but we do not completely share the aspect of just how some words are more harmful than others.

Rape is a very difficult word to say. It comes with great penalty of mind and heart. This word is more painful than cancer. But, pressing on is the most important task.

I recall the Sunday well when this happened. It was the 4th of July holiday and one of my best friends had just had her son. She was in the hospital another couple of days to undergo a "tubal". I had thought that day at service that things were going much better. The mood in the air was very strange and I was not looking forward to returning back to his house. But, we did. We ended up going down to his basement apartment and to "relax" on the couch. I recall that I was wearing my morning clothes from service. While I was in his "place", we were on his couch "wrestling". He was attempting to become intimate; however, he was never able to be intimate. He was not able to show the emotions that required it. As I was on my back on the couch, he had physically restrained me by holding both of my arms to both sides of the couch above my head. I was unable to move or to stop him from what was going on. I was beginning to be scared and told him to stop several times. However, he did not stop. No matter how I tried to move, it made no difference. I recall feeling very terrified and panicky that I could not move. I knew what he wanted and how it was going to be done. I do remember the look on his face. It was a look of determination and intent that I had not seen in a very long time. He had held me down which seemed like an eternity until I stopped moving. As his knees moved my legs apart, I knew that I had to give in and allowed myself to give in. I had prepared myself for what was going to happen and when it did, I was determined to leave as quickly as I could. I do not remember crying. I do not remember fighting anymore. I do not remember anything other than him and the look on his face. After everything was done, I was able to compose myself and return back upstairs.

Not too long after that, my friend had called to let me know about the baby and how she was doing. I hated that every year on his birthday I was reminded of that event. Too, I have always hated the 4th of July and have not intended to share it with anyone. I have been asked if I had filed charges but I did not. Date rape is the hardest to prove and can be the most traumatizing event ever.

I have shared. This has been the most difficult thing ever and to know that others will be reading this to find some hope lightens my heart. I look forward to good and better days.

Pushing on. Pressing on. Digesting on.