"Will I Live?"

It started off big. There was no undercutting of my confidence or my person before. Six months of a regular relationship; dating, flirting and generally getting to know one another. Then the momentous moment which forever changed who I am. A knife to my throat and a moment of wondering “Will I live?”. “Will I live through tonight?”

Those were my admissions last night in group.

They asked what I did in the moment (1). They asked how I excused his behavior the next day (2). Here are my answers to both:

(1) I hid. I hid in the washroom. I hid within myself. I curled into a naked ball against a couch. I hoped. I hoped I would make it. I hoped it would end. I ran. I ran upstairs and not out. I ran away from him. I ran into the arms of his friend when someone finally came home. I hid. I hid in his friends room, in his friends clothes for the rest of the evening. Until sunlight rose, I hid.

(2) I do not remember excusing his behavior. I recall him apologizing and looking chastised for days. I believe now that I mentally and emotionally got through it by being in shock and staying in shock for 7 years. By not remembering and choosing to let it go. Could the trauma of someone you “love” having the power to kill you be too much for a girl at my age then? So much that you just let it go and carry on?

More and more comes back. I did not remember until last night thinking, during that moment, of whether or not I would live. Seeing it written down was shameful, I blushed when I said it because I was embarrassed. I looked at it once during group and never again for the rest of the evening. I could not.

I now need someone to come back with a story similar to mine. I need one of them to admit they wondered if they’d live. I crave it. In a weird way I feel it would complete me, though it probably would not. There’s an emptiness in my soul that I somehow need to fill. I just haven’t found with what yet.

I think that’s all you need to know for now. I think that’s all I can write without disappearing for today.