It Will Never be OK

she took her power back ~

without permission
 

(Terri St. Cloud. "Her Power". Her White Tree)

I sometimes find myself inviting my STBX over to my house for a meal with the kids and me...not because I particularly want his company, but because the kids want to see him and still feel safe and warm when we all sit down for a meal together. I often find myself regretting my generosity. Sunday afternoon about three weeks ago was one of those times.

We had been to Mass together as a family, and things had been going relatively well, and I had a lot of food...so I invited him over for lunch, but made him aware that after lunch I would have chores to do and our older daughter would have homework to complete.

We had lunch...and then he wouldn't leave. I went upstairs to use my bathroom, and the kids went out to the backyard to play. He went upstairs and knocked on my bathroom door asking if I was alright. He was in my bedroom. WHAT??

When I came out, I found him sitting at the top of my stairs, blocking my way down. At this point, I realized that we were alone in the house and insisted that we go downstairs, as he continued to insist that I sit on the steps with him (there was only room for one, so the only way I could have done this would have been to straddle him...no way!).

When he finally got up and we made our way down the stairs, he continued to hug me and to want to kiss me, although I clearly wanted no part in that. After much prodding and insisting in my part, he eventually turned to leave...but not before adding, "Why do you want to hurt me?"

I simply responded that I was not trying to hurt him, but then realized that this was not enough...that it sounded too trite for the true and clear emotions that I felt when he touched me.

So I looked him frankly in the eyes and said, "I am not trying to hurt you. When someone does not want you to hug them, kiss them or touch them, it has nothing to do with wanting to hurt you, but everything to do with that person not wanting to get hurt. When you hug me, kiss me or touch me, it does not feel good. It always brings back bad memories, so when I don't want you to hug me, kiss me or touch me it is because I don't want to have those memories. It has nothing to do with wanting to hurt you."

"So it's just because of that one time?", he argued as if it had been such a small thing.

"No, that and everything else. That was just the last thing."

At this point, he began to argue that there were other good memories from our marriage. I agreed but explained that his hugging, kissing and touching never called upon these memories. His hugging, kissing and touching only brought me to a painful place. He must have felt as if he had broken through or something, because he continued to argue his point seemingly impervious to the fact that it was completely irrelevant to what I tried to make clear to him.

I felt my emotions simmering and knew I was near my boiling point. The more he continued to try to convince me to ignore my truth, the angrier I became...until I felt the need to look him square in the eyes and remind him.

"You raped me in my own bed!", I spelled out...then he got angry.

He began to deny things again. I never wavered. My gaze never unlocked from his.

"That wasn't rape!"

"Yes, it was. When someone says no to sex, and you proceed, it is rape."

"It wasn't sex."

"I asked you to stop and you never did."

"You're a liar! It's all a lie! Lie! Lie! Lie!"

...and on it went, with my eyes always locked on his, my words over his and his words over mine, like the argument scene from a drama film. I was convinced of the truth and realized that all he was trying to do was to erase my truth...obliterate it...smother my confidence with his aggressive words...as he had done in the past. It was not going to work this time.

I saw where this impasse was going and simply asked him to leave. He continued to call me a liar. I opened the door and pointed out, in case my words were inaudible in his raging head. He continued. He wasn't moving...and just before I once again got hooked on his rotten bait and melodically cursed him out, I remembered what my therapist had suggested in the past.

Get the fuck out of my house never left my lips. Instead, I clearly and evenly said, "If you don't leave, I am going to call the police."

It worked..."Yes, I'm leaving.", he finally said...and left (and returned for his phone...LOL).

I could not believe how satisfying and refreshing saying those words felt to me. You see, I wasn't screaming or crying or shaking when I said them. I felt completely in control, as if I had just asked my child to clean up her toys or she would lose privileges...and I knew I would follow through if I needed to.

The thing is that it will never be OK. No matter how much he tries to erase that awful night from history, it will never be OK that he took his pleasure with my body against my will. It will never be OK that he held my legs down and open, while I wept and remembered terrible things from my past. It will never be OK that he continued, while I tried to push him off me. It will never be OK that I said no, and he didn't stop.

There was Only One Way Home

I returned to EMDR today.

Over a month ago, I had had a panicky experience while driving over a bridge in the dark. It wasn't being on the bridge that incurred this sudden fear, it was looking at my GPS screen and seeing absolute nothingness around me. I couldn't tell where I was...there were no roads, no houses, not even trees...on the screen, it looked like wilderness...and it was completely dark (no street or road lights). I tightly grasped the steering wheel and drove in a panic, trying not to look at the GPS screen. It seemed like infinity before I reached a more developed area and began to calm down. It was an awful experience.

Today, my therapist and I decided to see where EMDR could take me with this...a very bad place, of course. It had not been the first time that feeling lost in the middle of uncharted territory had uprooted these fearful feelings in me, and each time this has occurred to me, the feelings have been akin to those of being stranded and lost in swampy terrain.

I don't know how old I was when my stepfather started taking me for rides in his van. I suppose the things he wanted to do with me where too much to be able to do discretely at home...so he took me in his van to a place that seemed like uncharted wilderness to me. I didn't know how he found this place. I just knew that I had no idea how to get back home.

These are the things that I saw during EMDR today. I saw him taking me for a ride in his van...I was lost in this uncharted wilderness. I felt that he had an enormous amount of power over me, because he was the only one who knew how to get me home.

I saw us arrive at this desolate location in the middle of the wild...and then I could not get past a certain area in his van. I could not let my memory take me to the back of his van...I knew what was coming, and I couldn't bring myself to remember that. I remembered the kissing and how kissing my STBX against my will reminds me so much of this time with my stepfather

I struggled with the memory that I couldn't let in. Eventually, however, I was able to realize one thing. I realized that my stepfather was the only one who could take me home during these trips...and that there was only one way home. I had to say yes to him. I had to agree...or I would never get home. I saw and I profoundly felt that what I had done with him wasn't my fault...even if I had said yes.

...There was only one way home.

After this, I was exhausted. We stopped EMDR. I caught my breath and my soul and went to the back of my own van. I wrapped myself up in soft blankets and fell asleep, as I told myself that there had only been one way home and it was not my fault. When I awoke, the first thing I told myself was to go to a good place...and I did. I am being very gentle with myself today.

Finding Unsoiled Beauty Again

trembling, she opened her heart,

quietly, she whispered,

'let's go.'

  

(Terri St. Cloud. "Let's Go". Her White Tree)

 

 

"Open your heart", he says, but it's not my true heart he means...it's my vagina. I find the words in the poem above simply beautiful...touching...personally meaningful...yet soiled by my husband's expression.

 

How do I find unsoiled beauty in my life again?