Stand In Line

In my mind I heard the whistle blow. I stood at the back of a line which seemed like millions of people. 272,350 women to be exact, all victims of men who didn’t know when no means NO. I was one of them. I was a victim.

I had become a victim of rape. The standing in line, the “I am a statistic” mentality that followed me throughout the months that chased after me. The way people stared, not really knowing what I was going through.

I followed the line, looking at the woman’s head in front of me. In my mind I could hear the whispers say that I had brought the attack on myself. I created a false hope that didn’t exist. I wanted to take the pain of being a victim and create a fantasy world where I could be wrapped up somewhere safe. Somewhere where pain didn’t hurt me. I was tired, and people noticed. I hurt, I couldn’t find my mind. I felt lost. I had created this false hope that I was the cause of this pain, it was my fault, and I truly came to believe it. I believed I was not a victim. Being a victim had turned me in to something I did not want to be. I knew I was lying, I was a victim, but not in the society created sense of the word, I needed to find a way to tell someone, anyone.

The ones that I told looked at me disbelievingly, all this ache and “they” didn’t care, “they” didn’t want to believe me. Their faces held skeptical looks. “Are you joking with me, because Keely this isn’t a good joke.” a friend whispered to me one afternoon. The pain was increasingly worse. It was like reliving the tearing of my innocence again. Their views of victims were false views, “they” knew the victims that lied because they were ashamed of what they had done. I was not one of those victims. I wanted this pain of the rape to be over; I needed it to be over. I felt like it was never going to leave. It had become a part of me, and I began to wish I had never told anyone.

I found after months of tenderness I didn’t want to be a victim any more. I wanted these images and ideas to stop creeping into my head; I begged it to stop now. Slowly, I felt the pain trying to dissipate, it slowly start to fade. I decided I didn’t want to be in twinge. I wanted it to leave, and the harder I tried to get rid of it, the more I went to therapy, the more I relived the memories, the faster it left. I was happy again, I could walk through the halls of school without flinching, and I could walk past him and slowly take a breath without choking. I believed I could take it, I needed to fight. The faster I cut in line, the more I ran, the harder I tried, the faster the pain left. I was standing in front of all the women looking forward into the space of glorious sun, the clouds had begun to fade and the rain became a warm sun drizzle. I was essentially a victim, yet I was strong not weak, I was healing not dwelling in the pain.

The warm arms that were wrapped around me now had become a sanctuary. I wasn’t scared any more. I could be touched and be fine. I was healing, still am, and all ways will be. I would not wish being a victim on any one, whether like in my case it is rape, or cancer, or just statistics themselves, it is the hardest thing to get over, the thoughts of others, the judgments, and the false accusations. Every case of hardship is different; no one person can experience an event like another’s. Today, this I believe I am no longer looking at the back of another ones head, I am a survivor not a victim.