Among the Weak and Strong

“You’ll always be stronger than he’ll ever be,” Lisa said to me.

When I called her I was crying next to the FIU fountain. I felt ashamed and wanted to stop crying, but I couldn't. Lisa told me to just let it all out and to stop keeping it in. Because it’s okay to cry. Lisa is the first person I gave a detailed view of the nightmares I have everyday. I see an element of my abuser in every man that I start to develop feelings for and so, I force myself to move on. But, I’m not going to let that happen again. I’m so done with crying randomly because it’s like I’m letting him win. And I refuse to ever let him win. I’m going to have to stop pretending to be so strong and actually become strong.

Later that day, I told Evelyne everything. I had to. My best friends and sister are the people that have made me decide that the world is worth living in.

“Promise me. Tell me you’re strong,” Evelyne said to me.

She placed her pinky in front of me and nods at it. I resisted at first but finally relented.

I put my pinky forward and squeezed my pinky tight against hers.

“I am strong. I am strong. I am strong.”

And then I cried.

Sometimes I convince myself that I really am not strong. It’s like I can hear him telling me that I’m weak and useless. I can feel him, smell him, hear him and see him. All of him. I can hear him talking to me, telling me to be his good little girl. I feel him winning. I feel him laughing at me. I feel him laughing at me while I cry. And that’s what scares me. He’s winning. It's like every day and every time I have my bad days, I let him win and he's just smiling at me. 

For a while, I've been preaching about how you’re stronger than you think and we as humans can go through anything, no matter what the trauma. But who am I kidding? There are just some things we cannot escape. Today, I had one of the worst mental breakdowns in my life. I left my club’s meeting because I was just so scared of crying in front of everyone. Fuck, I was even nominated for a position. And I can’t believe I let him win me over today. I never have done that before, at least not in public.

People that have been through what I’ve been through or anything traumatic, know what it's like to wake up sometimes and just feel nothing. You wake up and you just want to cry. And it’s not pity or pain. It’s just nothing. You wake up and you feel empty inside. A part of your soul and your life is gone and that’s when you realize you’re breaking and can’t do anything about it. I’ve been trying for years now to make the world a better place. But what can I honestly do? I honestly don’t know what I’m doing anymore. How can I help others when I can barely help myself? However, I will try. I don't know how just yet, but I will.

There are three specific memories that I remembered clearly today from my attacker. I was six years old during all of these, an innocent little child. This is why I had a breakdown today. Because I remembered all three times perfectly with all the terrible details. I actually didn’t just remember the pain, his face and his smile and everything he ever told me. I remembered each thing I did and what he did. A man my parents and I trusted. He was told to take care of me and he would be paid. Seeing as he had no income at that point, he took the opportunity.

He took me to a room and told me to be a good little girl. He pulled down his pants. He told me to pull down his underwear. I asked him why and I told him that I didn’t want to. That’s when he smiled this disgusting, dark smile that I will never forget. He told me that I have to be a good little girl. That if I don’t do what he says, he’ll tell my father and that my father would spank me. So I pulled them down. He gave me instructions. He told me to put my mouth around him and—ugh. But I did what he told me to do. And I can’t believe I did that. A SIX YEAR OLD WOULD KNOW BETTER. I should have known better, but I didn’t.

And I was so scared that I didn’t tell anyone. And I don’t want to be scared any more.

The second memory that stuck to me all these years was when I wanted to play with my neighbor. When I ran out to play with my neighbor, he grabbed me because I didn’t clean up. He said I will have to be punished. He said I was a bad girl. He touched me. He put his hands all over me and rubbed me. I remember screaming and trying to get away. But he said that he would tell my parents that I was misbehaving. So I let him do it again and again. He had me on his lap. I could still feel his fingers inside and on me. I could feel his smile against my neck. I can still feel him. And I shouldn’t.

The third, my most vague and final memory was at a party. Everyone was outside. After using the bathroom I was walking out. He stopped me. I mainly remember him pulling me after I tried running away and him pushing me onto the couch's. I remember feeling a slap of pain and tears and he took off my underwear and he raped me. And then there was blackness. I just remember going home and there was so much blood. My mom saw blood all over my new white underwear. She asked me what happened. I told her it was because I was playing and fell.

“Audrey, your pookie is getting ugly,” she said to me.

And I think this is when hatred toward my mother formed. She knew. What mother doesn’t know after seeing all that blood? I remember that I was still in pain the day after. And I still feel pain, just not the same kind. There was so much blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. She had to throw that underwear away. You can’t bleed that much from falling. You can’t bleed that much from playing. Can I not trust my own mother? I started to blame her.

When I was 12 my mom made a comment about rape. I asked her if she has ever been raped. She replied with a question, “Have you?” I didn’t know how to reply. So I didn't.

When I finally did tell my parents at 13, they told me to forget about it. It was in the past and there is nothing I can do about it. He committed suicide. He's gone. He's dead. They blamed me for not talking about it earlier. They told me that hey, you’ll get over it eventually. But I never did.

Today, when I told my best friends of my breakdown, it was like they knew what to do. I guess they’re kind of already used to dealing with my breakdowns. Which I feel terrible about because I hate putting my pain on others. I hate that I have to depend on others to feel some sort of comfort. But knowing them, they would say that it’s fine because that’s what friends do. And I agree because I’m willing to endure anything for them and my sister. Again and again my friends would tell me that I didn’t know better, that I was a kid. But hello, kids do know better. Sometimes, things just feel wrong. But yet, I did it anyway. And I’m not sure why I let him win as a kid and why I still let him win.

I don’t know what I tried to accomplish by writing this. All I know is that I don’t want to pretend to be so strong and powerful and independent. Yes, I will still be those things, but I’m going to show my vulnerable side. That side of me that I don’t show. The side I struggle everyday with. The side that sees his face everyday but ignores the images and the feelings.But I think the main point is that it’s okay to be weak. I guess I just wanted to show you guys my vulnerability. I wanted to show you me. I wanted to be completely honest and free in front of you. And I want you to take it and learn. Learn that you're beautiful. Learn that it's okay to feel hurt and confused because with help, you'll learn what to do.

Because, it’s not easy to forgive and definitely not easy to forget. It’s not something I’ll ever get over. Rape, sexual assault and incest are a serious traumatic crimes. It’s the murdering of the soul, the robbery of trust and the abuse of humanity. These things are not things to get over. Trauma is something you live and cope with. Something you take with you until you die. I think that’s what we have to do. When something traumatic occurs, you don’t get over it, you live with it. You know how to cope with living with a sibling or a pet or a disease, this is something like that. You have to learn to live with it and try to grow from it. You have to learn how to wake up each morning and convince yourself you are strong and capable. No matter how hard life is getting. You have to wake up and realize that hey, so you have your bad days, but the good days are worth living for. Because you are worth living for. You didn’t make it this far for no reason. Luck is on your side there. So take it and do something with it.

It’s perfectly fine to cry a lot and feel helpless. But it’s not okay to believe that you are helpless. That is what I learned from my best friends today. They taught me that I am strong. I am not helpless. And I am not alone. It’s funny how you know all these things, but when you hear someone say it, that just gives you a whole new perspective.

I’ll be okay. Because it’s perfectly fine to be vulnerable and scared. Everyone is, as long as you’re with someone along the way, you’ll be fine.

You just have to willing to put up with the bullshit, take it and use it. Then go forward to find the love and take that in. I hope you guys get what I’m saying.

I love you,

Drey

Please love yourself. Regardless of however fragile, vulnerable or how painful it may be. You're incredible and perfect.