It's Not Who I Am!!

I couldn't help but smile.  "That's funny.  Because what does that mean?  Even if this hadn't been happening to me our ideas of fun still wouldn't be the same.  If this hadn't of happened to me and I still felt more comfortable being at home, being alone, doing quiet things and not being around crowds you would just think I was quiet and shy.  Maybe I would be completely different.  Maybe not.  But I don't have the luxury of knowing that.  And honestly?  I like who I am.  I think I'm a decent person with good values and simple, reasonable, ideas about life.  So bad things happened to me.  Sometimes I'm tortured by it.  Other times, I'm not.  It isn't something that you and I have to let rule us every time we get together."

"It's hard for me to forget."

"I know."   We were both quiet.  "I regret telling you for that reason.  How it makes you feel.  But I will promise you something if you take me for my word and trust me."

"I trust you."

"Good, then know this.  If there is a time that I can't deal with this, that I can not live with this, I'll let you know.  That's a promise I am willing to make with you.  If you will believe it.  I have never gotten to that point before. I don't see it happening.  If I need help I will ask for it."

"I want to believe that."

"Then do.  This isn't a soap opera.  It's my life.  Yes I have down times.  Who doesn't?  I've seen you when you aren't happy.  You don't act any different than when I'm not happy.  You get through it.  I get through it." She was quiet.   "I am so tired.  Just trust me Mary.  I'm not going to tell you about this and drag you into it then to just lie to you."

"I don't think you're lying to me.  I just hope you can recognize when you might need help, because you haven't.  Up until now."

"But that's your opinion.  I think I didn't tell because it would have been harder for me to deal with my parent's pain then it would be to deal with my own."  She shook her head in disbelief.  "I think that's my choice Mary.  I'm dealing with now, and now I am not telling my parents.  Now I'm safe.  I can say no.  I can be safe.  I don't know what I am going to do about this next week or next year.  But for now I have to do it this way."

"It certainly is your choice.  But I don't agree with it."

"You don't have to."

"I know".   She opened the car door and got out.  She leaned in.   "Just remember your promise."

"I will."   She closed the car door and I waited until she went in the front door and closed the door behind her.  I went home.  Mom and dad were in bed.  I turned off the porch light and locked the door behind me.  As quietly as I could I took a shower and went to my room.

The night was very cool and felt wonderfully clean as I opened the my bedroom window to let it in.  I sat in the dark and looked out the window.  Will I ever go through a day when I don't have to deal with this?  A day when I am so wrapped up in work or play that I don't analyze everything I think and feel.  Where everything I think and feel isn't about 'it' or influenced by 'it'.  What kind of day would that be?  When will that day be?  Mary struck a nerve talking about other kids he could be doing this to.  

He wasn't.   He couldn't be.  I was safe for him.  There wasn't a risk of me turning him in.  That had to be obvious to him after the first few times.  I wonder how scared he was?  Or was he at all?  Was he capable of feeling fear?  Or was that part of the excitement for him.  I shook my head as if I could shake the thoughts of him right out of my mind.  If only it were that simple.

It was so dark.  I felt so comfortable here.  Sitting on the floor where no one could see me but I could see out.  Not that there was anything to see.   It was just the idea of sitting here and looking out on this little part of the world and this little part of the world couldn't see me.  I turned my head to look at my room.  It was pretty dark but my eyes were adjusted to it.  Even without lights I knew every corner of it.  The books on the shelves, clothes in the drawers,  CD.s in their cases, the radio station on my alarm clock.  It was all where it needed to be for me.  I knew enough from Mary's mom's books and our talks that this could easily be an attempt at organizing my life in the only areas that I felt any control.  I knew that.  So what.  Whatever the reason, it made me feel better.   And there's no harm in that.

Crap.  I climbed up on my bed and carefully got under the covers.  There was no reason why I had to feel angry and frustrated.  So why did I?  The day with Shaun, Tim and Mary seemed so far away already.  The talk with Mary was pulsing in my head.  Or rather, the feeling from that talk.  WHy do I have to be responsible for what Doug does?  And why in the hell do I have to tell the world what happened to me?  Mary would love to see me go into a support group and tell my story a hundred times and listen to a thousand other stories.  That wasn't for me.  If ever I was to talk to anyone it would be one on one.  I couldn't stand the looks from people, the pity, the curiosity, the sadness.  No matter what Mary said, it would all be there.  I know.  I've done it myself when I hear of something terrible happening.  All the questions that go through your head.  I can completely imagine details, or pull them from my own memory.  But the questions still flash through people's heads.  No one can tell me different.

But the worst part.  I don't want anyone comparing me to everyone else.  There is not a "group" that I would belong to.  Because this happened to me, I am not like others who this happened to.  It's not a membership.  No one can know me because of this that happened to me.  It's not who I am!

Damnit Mary.  Why do you keep pushing this?  I felt my arms so tense by my sides.  Fists clenched.  Forehead drawn tight.  Slowly I made every effort to relax.  Loosen my hands.  Soften the death grip my forehead had on my eyebrows.  Again, like hundreds of times before I saw my parents as they discovered this.  I could see mom's face and dad's hands.  After yesterday I couldn't help but picture grandma too.  Mostly how I pictured their reactions depended on whether I was feeling secure or not in my life.  At least with mom and dad.  For some reason with grandma I always picture her protecting Doug.  Which made me think maybe she had some sordid secret of her own.  That wasn't fair of me, but still, I couldn't help but wonder.

With grandpa it was different.  I always imagined his reaction as the same.  But it was different than grandma's.  I pictured him getting mad, at Doug.  No fear or pity from grandpa.  Just anger.  One thing I quickly learned after Doug started...... it never happened at grandpa's house.  Even when I was younger and Doug still lived there and I was visiting.  Not once did he do anything there.  I don't think it had any thing to do with grandma.  I always figured it was because he was terrified of grandpa.  That's an image I created very young and hung on to all of these years.  Grandpa was not an intimidating man.  He was tall, lean, non-threatening physically.  At least to me.  Maybe it had something to do with grandpa saving Doug from his own family.  Who knows.  Who cares.

My neck was hurting.  I regretted not asking mom to check in to one of those neck pillows.  I need to do that.  Tomorrow.  What else do I have to do?  Put some money in the bank.  Did Mary say she wanted to do anything?  I couldn't remember.  I just want to sleep.  I don't want to think about what Mary said.  I closed my eyes.  Where did today go?  I only spent the last hour of it talking with Mary about this again.  So why don't the other eight hours stick out?  Shaun's party.  Shaun.  Encouraging me with looks and little nods of his head.  Like he was a coach.  Why did he feel he needed to do that.  I wonder if Mary told him.  He just acted like he knew something.  Why is it I can lie here and think about Doug without even trying to and I don't want to.

When I would rather think about, maybe Shaun, and I can't have one thought about him unless I drag it through all of this other muck.

I was tired of fighting the thoughts, tired of thinking.  Finally I slept.