The only evidence I have that I was raped...

In nursing school I was taught that to diagnose a disease there need to be symptoms.  Following the symptoms we do diagnostic tests that yield a confirming answer.  Growing up, my thoughts had always been clear.  I'm the type of person who can do a little soul searching, some one on one time with myself at the height of a confusing situation and in the end come down with a clear and decisive answer.  This all stopped the day I was raped.

I can look back on the days, now years, following my rape and all i see is a huge blur.  The way I thought, my actions are all unclear to me.  Although they had to have been crystal clear to all those around me, I was some how left out of a situation I was in.  The only things I know are how I felt.  Even the way I feel is confusing.  During therapy I was asked if I could pin point the strongest emotion I've felt during all of this.  I broke down crying.  I don't know the answer to that.  I don't have one.  I feel everything.  It'd be easier if I could hold onto one emotion.  If I were just angry. Period.  That'd be easy.

Unfortunately, it's not that easy.  When I do decide to painfully allow the past to come out from it's hiding place, my thoughts flow through a mix of every possible emotion.  Here's an example of what it's like- I'm mad...ok,  "but no because what if he didn't mean it.  he DID mean it, it is NOT my fault. Ok it's not my fault but it's still hard to fathom that he really intentionally meant to hurt me, who really intentionally means to hurt anyone? Ugh that's extremely naive and stupid of me.  But maybe he was hurting from something in his own life that I don't know about.  STOP sympathizing with your rapist what are you the weakest person alive?  No i am not weak.  I need to stop thinking about this.  I'm going to turn into one of those people who sits around feeling sorry for themselves.  Ok be normal.  It's not that easy.  Think strong then.  Ok I am strong...But by pretending I'm strong and nothing happened it only sits in the back of my mind constantly haunting me. "  

I'll stop there.  But thoughts have been flowing in and out like that since the day I was raped.  It's been THREE years.  So here comes the part where I diagnose myself.  Because I can replay the night I was raped over and over again and still come to a confusing conclusion that maybe I was raped, maybe the signals were read the wrong way, maybe he didn't hear me when I spoke, maybe he's used to girls who act like they don't want sex when they really do.   Maybe he thought I was shy and took charge in his own way.  Who knows.  My defense mechanism for avoiding making the definite conclusion in my head that i was raped are quite impressive.  

As the years have past I look at my symptoms for guidance instead.  Since I haven't been able to consciously watch myself as I've fallen into unhealthy coping mechanisms (my excessive running, dieting, hatred toward my body, pushing others away, forcing uncomfortable sex with strangers, crying for no reason in private etc) I just concentrate on how i've felt for an answer.  

I tell myself that normal people don't act the way I have the past couple years.  That's step one to realizing that something happened.  I tell myself it's not normal to hear "rape" and be scared out of my mind and have the bodily reaction I do.  Step 2.  I tell myself it's not normal that anytime I see a man resembling my rapist I feel shots of anxiety running down my entire body.  Step 3.  I tell myself it's not normal to be as anxious, uncomfortable, nervous, self-hating as I am.  Ok I'll stop here.  I look at the symptoms and only from the way I've reacted and felt am I reassured that yes I was raped.  

I'm realizing as I write this that my thoughts are coming out just as confusing as they are in my head.  ugh.  Ok moving outside of my head and into reality-

I started therapy last week and today was my second session.  In preparation to start stirring up those unwelcoming thoughts, I began to fall into my old habit of looking in the mirror and picking out everything I hate about myself.  Chris was at work when he called me and  despite my attempt to sound as normal as I could I still started with, "So I really think I want a nose job.  Along with the boob job I want."  He's used to me picking apart myself so his response was, "Oh will you stop.  You're perfect the way you are.  God spent a lot of time making you, you shouldn't mess around with what he's already done."  This went on for a little while- him telling me I'm pretty, etc.  I couldn't stand it.  

The worst thing about hating something is when someone else stands in front of it and tries to rationalize that it's actually pretty.  It's like someone picking up gross smelly trash that's already been thrown away and trying to reason that it's beautiful.  I would not and could not be convinced that my nose was not too long/ my boobs too small etc etc.  The thing about it too is that I'm not a superficial person by any means.  It's not really about my nose or my boobs.  My therapist helped me to realize this today.  It's the inner pain talking when I start hating myself.  I'm dirty.  My body is a constant reminder of the rape.  Someone used me and now I'm like a dirty towel and have to walk around with the filth constantly.  My body is the source of shame in my life.  Why and how can I ever come to love it again?  My inner crazy/ pain became stronger and stronger as Chris continued to reassure me that I am not ugly.  I just got nasty and came out with, "It's not about being pretty Chris.  I was raped ok and now I have to talk about it and it hurts."  After realizing that there was no right thing he could say at that moment he said he loved me, that I couldn't push him away- no matter how hard I try and that he'd talk to me in the morning.  I laid awake until 3 hating myself more and more.  

The thing is, he said the exact right things.  It feels good to hear him say what he does.  There truly is no right answer.  I don't want to feel good about myself.  After being raped I stopped doing all the things in my life I feel good and love doing.  I was a swimmer since I was 10 years old and swam division 1 at my college freshmen year.  It's now been 3 years since I've really swam.  I've also played the piano since I was 5.  I took lessons in college for credit my freshman year along with classes such as - "music of the classical era" and "the history of rock and roll."  I LOVE music.  love love love it.  I used to make everyone in my life that weren't exposed to every single type of music, listen to it.  I'd make my ex boyfriends sit through hours of listening to Chopin and Tchaikovski.  Explaining the emotion intended my the composer and all the reasons I loved playing/ listening to it.  Playing the piano made me feel such contentment and inner peace.  I haven't touched it since my rape.  The thing is, I don't want to feel happy.  I don't want to make this disgusting body that he used feel joy.  

If there was any fault in what Chris brought up it was him saying, "God spent a lot of time making you."  Why did he have to go and bring up God.  I don't want to talk about him.  I'm soooo angry at him.  I know it seems stupid.  I know to religious believers, priests, etc I'm being ungrateful and horrible and what not.  The thing is if we bring up God then questions I don't want to ask start coming up.  If he's really in control up there than he let this happen to me.  And that sucks.  period.  And if I try to search deeper for a meaning in all of this than he's teaching me a lesson.  Seems kinda fucked up though.  We're then implying that either I did something to deserve being raped or that I'm being taught some huge life lesson.  Well whatever lesson's being taught here I don't get it.  And I don't want to find a reason or a lesson because I'm still angry and very very hurt.  I shouldn't be so sensitive I guess but I am.  Ok I think this post is already enough of a confusing mess of all my inner pain.  I'll write again next week.