Posttraumatic Stress

Usually I keep a more personal blog/diary for these kinds of things (hinting to the title here), but I feel as if I'd explode if I don't put this "out there" somehow. I feel like "hiding in plain sight" to quote Dexter Morgan.

Before this will make sense to the common reader I have to get past this certain barrier that always hurts me to write and/or speak of but here goes: About 2 years ago I was raped. There. Now that we're past that let me remind you not to feel too sorry for me, because I don't want to be a victim. I don't feel like one in any case. It was, luckily, a one time event, the perpetrator was barely one I knew and for most part I feel like I'm past it.

Unfortunately only 'for most part'. But a so, let me be honest, brutal violation like that will probably never escape my mind completely. And I don't hope to ever forget it, that would be denying its existence and what it has done to me as a person, but I do hope I will, one day, be able to look back at it without wanting to cry.

During my regular everyday life I do not think of it one bit though. I'm lucky enough to have a bunch of good friends, a lovely boyfriend and a caring family who are all there for me. However, once in a while an event occurs that makes it impossible for me to not think of that night.

Actually I don't really think of him or the rape itself, it's the emotions, and with that the physiological responses, that come running back: The creeping fear, the unwanted shaking, the blank mind, the angst. It's actually a very interesting study in human behaviour that way, with myself as the subject: I've learned to feel sad or cry if I turn up in a situation that my head connects with that night. I'm one of Pavlovs drooling dogs.

The event that happened today was actually pretty, well, uneventful in itself. I was walking down the road because I was going to buy my mom a bit of medication for her cold. Our street is well, let's just call it split up. On one end there's housing and that part of the street is calm and lovely. The other part is full of pubs and drunks, however. Most of them nice people though, I've had several conversations with alcoholics there who just seem like nice people that made bad choices for themselves. Well anyway, that's changing the subject, but I want to give you an idea of what kind of street it is.

It's really like walking into another world as soon as you pass the first pub. You just know, instinctively, that you're out of your natural habitat. The sounds become different, the people are louder and thus you tend to tense up a bit. With you I obviously mean I.

And it was exactly as I passed that first pub it happened. I saw them from a distance. Two young men, drunk, standing outside the before mentioned pub. I could tell from the way they were talking to each other that they were in the "I'm so social, I feel like talking to anyone!"-stage of their buzz. And they had spotted me. It's an interesting feeling that one. You know something will happen but you don't feel like backing down, I didn't anyway, I didn't want to let the vibe they were sending me ruin my path to the pharmacy.

As I approached them one of them suddenly stepped out in front of me blocking my path. This, THIS exact moment, is where my mind already started thinking of escape routes. If anyone has seen the new Sherlock Holmes movie, it was exactly as when Holmes himself calculates how to punch his opponents to do the most damage with as little effort as possible. Cost-benefit analysis. I had a clear advantage because he was drunk, so I figured it would be the easiest to go for his wobbly legs, preferably in a way that would make him hit his mate, too. Then I would be able to run right past them. If I for some reason would be unable to attack, however, the door to the pub was right behind me. Too many people in there for them to want to cause a commotion.

All of that went through my mind, and much more, within nanoseconds. I was ready. I was locked on my target. But then he says: "We have a club, my mate and I." His mate giggled loudly at this. "We kidnap people. Especially people like you with black hats on!" As soon as he had uttered these words I realized they were just, as my mates call it, "drunktards". I said: "Yeah, that sure sounds awesome." as I bursted (yes bursted) right past them.

At first I didn't think much of it. I hadn't even realized all the thoughts that had crossed my mind in those few seconds. I laughed a bit thinking: "That was odd." But it didn't take long before I could feel a stream of tears trying to emerge. For a second there I felt extremely faint, but I kept walking. I just kept my goal in mind. My mom's medicine.

I considered if I had any alternative routes when I had to walk home again. I did, but I didn't want to use them. I wanted to pass them again. I didn't want them to be the boss of me. I know that they probably didn't think much of it, but I could feel that it was important to me.

So after I had picked up my mom's medicine, I walked the exact same route home again. And as I figured they were still there. As I walked past this time they shouted at me trying to make me stop: "Hey! You again! With the black hat, c'mere!" But I just kept walking in my same ol' sturdy tempo. They laughed loudly, but I was just happy they didn't follow.

And that is how something as simple as buying medicine for your mom can turn into something very eventful - for me at least. Exactly because of this I've also become way more patient with people I meet in general. Especially the angry or upset ones. I know something's wrong. And I understand their pain.

I was right though. I did defuse my inner bomb by writing this. Lovely :).