Pandora's Aquarium: My Responsibilities as a Survivor: Working through the Grey Areas - Pandora's Aquarium

I've come to the realization recently that there is not single truth when it comes to matters of the heart. Many of us have perceptions of the truth as we know it to be. If you ask a dozen people about what they saw on a particular day, they will litter it with perspective and personal experience. When I was working on my graduate degree I had to actually learn how to write from an unbiased perspective. It was very difficult. In doing so, I had to actually include accounts from both the opposing and supportive perspectives. My degree is in social sciences so it's exceptionally hard to write an absolute truth when there are several different perspectives. You do the best you can, with the evidence you have and state your perspective position.

I was recently raped-- a second time. Never thought it would happen again as I thought I was stronger than that.I assumed that after years of therapy, finally admitting that what happened with my brother-in-law in a drug induced sexual encounter was actually coercive sexual abuse, and going on antidepressants that I was finally ok. Unfortunately, sweeping the truth under the rug prematurely not only didn't take it away, but it also made me a prisoner to my own thoughts. Turns out that post traumatic stress disorder is real and a very serious matter to a survivor of rape. Because I spent years not talking about it, suddenly when the flood gates opened, it was like the trauma happened yesterday. Even my sleep wasn't safe. There was a dark figure who haunted me nightly to the point that I wondered if there was a ghost in my bedroom. One night I woke up screaming because I saw the dark figure sitting on my chest. It wasn't just a dream-- I was awake and what I felt was very real. Then it happened-- again. This time I wasn't a 16 year old girl but a 32 year old woman.

The stories are essentially identical. I was smitten by a man of power and prestige. I was in a place of loneliness and discomfort. And there he was, a man willing to listen, tell my I am beautiful, and give me his attention. I took it. I let him into my precious realm. I always thought of myself as strong, independent, and a feminist. But for some reason, when he kissed me I froze. In each situation it was wrong, inherently in my being, it was wrong. Did I say no? I don't know. For 3 years of my life I lived in dissociation. It's so wonder that I didn't end up with dissociative personality disorder. I guess I am fortunate.