Emerging Courageous Online Magazine - Stories
I start to wake and the struggle begins. In sleep, my fears and my rationality are at peace but in consciousness, they are at war. I know to win this battle I must fight. I must fight to rise up, get out of bed, and to face reality, face the day, and face what’s outside—the daffodils.
I set my alarm for five minutes more as a compromise. I’ll give my soul just a few more minutes to escape from what I know is coming, but it’s no use. It’s already begun.
I saw the first signs of them yesterday. The daffodils, that is. They were out there, in public, in front of everyone. They were in the park I have to walk past every day. Their slender leaves had breached the surface of the cold, hard winter soil. Soon the bud stems would follow with their little golden-yellow trumpets ready to burst open. Then they’ll scream at me, “Remember! Remember! Remember?” And like the buglers of the old civil war, they sound the call to battle.
I pull the covers over my head and retreat instead. Try to go back to safety, to sleep, escape. It’s not working. He’s here. He’s here, in the dark, dismal corners of my memories. He coyly smiles and enters my home. He hands me that bouquet of daffodils. How sweet, I thought. If only I’d known.
It was April 14, 1993. It was our first date. I’d yearned for his attention for months prior. I’d sat by him every Sunday at church and even sang with him in the choir. He was mysterious and enticing. Something about him made me want him. Everything about him made me want him. Finally, he’d asked me out to lunch. It was easy to say, “Yes.” He was beautiful. But then so was Lucifer, right? We never made it to lunch.
It began as soon as I’d placed those daffodils in the vase. I had invited evil into my home. I blocked out most of the next few days. He’d stayed and brutalized me over and over and over again. I lost track of time and only retained bits and pieces of the torture I’d endured. Psychologists call this selective memory. But my body remembers everything and every “anniversary” when those damn daffodils appear, I feel the handcuffs on my wrists, his breath on my face, and the agonizing pain of his penetration, and I fight him all over again.
The alarm clock goes off and buzzes me back into reality. For a moment I’m not sure where I am or what day it is. My wrists are aching and I’m covered in sweat. I must get up, must keep fighting. I must not let him totally destroy me. I slowly pull the blankets away from my eyes and look around. I’m in my new home, in a new place that’s far, far away from the evil. The weight I feel pressing down on me is only my dog, my protector. His wagging tail thumps the bed and his loving eyes tell me he’s here for me and nothing will get past him to hurt me now.
My symptoms are a classic example of Post-traumatic Stress Disorder in rape victims. In fact, rape victims constitute the largest single group of PTSD sufferers. Not every rape victim/survivor experiences the same intensity or duration of symptoms. Studies by clinicians and researchers have determined that there is an association between a woman’s post-traumatic stress response to rape and her pre-existing perceptions of self and other. According to some Mental Health Social Workers, women who have positive early life experiences are able to mobilize adaptive coping mechanisms better and thereby diminish the long-term impact of the sexual assault experience. Growing up in my family, talking about problems was considered a weakness and crying over something only got you teased, not sympathy. Needless to say, I learned not to talk about my problems and not to cry over anything. As a child, I was not able to develop strong coping mechanisms. This could explain why I still, after nine years, experience such strong PTSD symptoms.
This month is the “anniversary” of the rape. Fortunately, each year
my symptoms seem to become less and less. And one day I expect to be walking
past that park and realize the daffodils have bloomed and I didn’t even
notice. But for right now, as I throw back the covers on my bed and turn the
alarm clock off for the last time, I’ll concentrate on just getting through
today. I’ll get up. I’ll get dressed. I’ll have some breakfast and then I
think the dog and I will go for a walk to the park. I have some daffodils to
face.