"She said she wanted to run you over with her car?! Because you tossed a notebook onto the seat instead of placing it down gently?! Dude, that chick is crazy! You need to break up with her!"
Umm, this makes me sound bad.... Maybe I should start over.
I was 19, maybe 20. I had just gotten out of an emotionally and verbally abusive relationship of almost three years, which I was randomly raped in (date raped-does it make a difference what I call it?) throughout that time.
I had been writing a lot in a notebook that I had started in high school which I called my DarkStars book. It had started out with magazine clippings and rhyming poems about how I wanted to stand out from the crowd or how I wanted to look like a model or change the world or whatever other teenage girl thing was on my mind that I could rhyme to. But lately my writing had gotten very dark. Every page was seeping with my depression and self loathing. Questing God, letters to my rapist/ex-boyfriend...I had put my pain in that book. I told it everything; it listened and it didn't judge me. It just sat there and let me scribble pure emotion all over its pure pages. It was my release, my friend, and the only one believing the severity of the truth I had been stuck in.
(DarkStars almost 15 years later)
I had recently found myself in the arms of a guy named Jeff, a semi-recently made friend that was becoming more. He was around my age and had been through a local addiction program and was sober and working as a counselor there. He had been around a lot of people with a lot of different experiences. I shared with him what I was going through and he was an awesome support for me. He believed me and empathized with my pain and was angry with the lack of support I was receiving from those close to me and the police department. He treated me with more respect then I was showing myself, and refused to take our relationship past a physical boundary he thought I may regret in the future. If there was a man to be set in front of me at that moment to prove there were genuinely good guys out there, he was it.
We were dating for about two weeks officially and spending almost 24/7 together. We spent a lot of time listening to music and driving around, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes late into the night underneath the summer stars. We spent a lot of time reading through DarkStars, talking about my abuse, my rapes, my cutting and how my past counselor could never remember my name.
He was walking me to my car one day - Jeff was always a gentlemen that way - opening my doors and holding my bags...and my book.
He opened the back door of my SUV, tossed in my overnight bag, and then my book.
Oh, wait, what?! Did he just throw DarkStars?! Toss it carelessly into the back seat?! The only thing keeping me sane?! The only thing that hadn't left my side since before and after my recent trauma?! The only thing that saw and knew and held all of my despair, my secrets, my shame, my being!?
I was furious. How dare he disrespect my book! How dare he disregard my feelings, my rapes, my pain, my tears, my heart, me! He was disregarding me. He threw me into that backseat. He was treating me like trash. I can't let this happen again! I can not get into another relationship where I am treated this way!!! (Obviously now I realize that maybe I was over reacting a bit. Perhaps he was being a gentleman helping me with my things and had accidentally triggered the emotional abuse I suffered through. I'll let you be the judge of that.)
I don't really remember exactly what I said or did. I do, very clearly, recall telling him that I was very enraged and, although I wasn't going to, I felt like running him over with my car, and that I needed to leave. I then proceeded to get into the vehicle and drove off.
He went to work and talked to some friends about what had happened. Knowing him he probably did not disclose all of the gory details of my present struggles so, yeah, they were like:
"She said she wanted to run you over with her car! Because you tossed a notebook onto the seat instead of placing it down gently?! Dude, that chick is crazy! You need to break up with her!"
About a week went by and Jeff and I were still hanging out, but he had told me what his friends had said and by the end of the week he decided that no, I wasn't crazy. I was hurting. I was in pain, and that I needed help and support, but from a professional and from friends.....and mayyybbbeee I should be single for awhile.
For years I was told that a was crazy, over-sensitive and over-reacting by a guy for no other reason then to seclude me, control me, and sexually abuse me. I finally acted crazy and I was around a man who saw that I was not.
We did remain close friends for a long time, and now through the powers of Facebook we can see each other smiling with our spouses and bringing new life into the world and experiencing joy.
In case you're reading this, friend, thank you for believing me, supporting me, and knowing this chick's not crazy.
B. is a survivor making her way in this world trying to heal from her past and help others along the way.