Another Gut Spillage

*sigh* I was hoping this emotional post wasn't going to come bubbling to the surface for a few more days, but here it is.

December 13, 2006 is an anniversary. A very important milestone in my life. If hadn't endured that day, I wouldn't be the woman I am today. In a strange concoction of life, sin and evil on the rocks with a twist of irony for flavor, I am sitting here today healthier and more at ease than I have ever been in my life.

I guess things just came to a boil tonight while I was talking with a few girls I've known for a while. I finally shared everything with them. The rape, Maggie, Joe, all the shit from the past year. Suddenly Lynne was sobbing and admitting that her sister had just been checked into a mental institution after being gang raped on Saturday. What do you say to that?!?!?!?!?!? Lynne kept telling me, "I understand how you feel"

I guess in some sick, sad way I was relieved. Finally, I had met someone that could relate to the hell I have been going through the past 3 years. (Wow. Hard to belive how long it's been!) I feel like I've been living under this dark cloud. I have always just chalked it up to depression. Depression I can handle.....shame? Well that's a different story.

I don't have many memories from my past due to the fact that I've repressed most of them after my parent's horrendous divorce. But there is one day in particular that I will ALWAYS be able to remember with the same amount of pain and anguish I felt the day it happened.

December 14, 2003.

That was the day I learned, through an AIM conversation, that I had been witnessed having sex with another guy....not Joe.

I remember how I felt when I slowly began to put the pieces together. I don't remember that. It suddenly felt like all the blood in my body had moved to my head and was now trying to escape out my ears. I would never have sex with someone else! I remember my feet feeling like they were floating off the ground. What the hell is going on?!?!?!?!? I remember looking at Joe's face and feeling like I was the worst person in the world. What happened last night? What am I not remembering?!?!?!? I remember him telling me that he was going to take me back to my dorm so he could sort through things alone. i was raped. I remember wanting to die.

A short couple months later, news of the growing Maggie came along. I tried to go back to school. I wanted to make it work. I wanted to prove to everyone that I had it all together....I could do this! I can't tell you how much time elapsed. Slowly but surely I was sliding into a dark depression. A depression that could only be detected by myself. On the outside I looked fine, on the inside I was black.

One day I woke from my stupor long enough to realize that I hadn't eaten in a week. It dawned on me that of all the people I knew, I myself posed the biggest threat to my daughter. I alone was going to be responsible for whether or not she lived. If I had kept going where I was going, I surely would have lost her. I had a developed a strange love-hate relationship. I loved her more then anything because she was my daughter....a part of me. I hated her with a blinding white passion because I couldn't hate her enough to kill her.

Sobbing, I called my mom and begged her to come get me. I told her she had to save me from this....she had to help me save my daughter.

I wish I could tell you, that after I left that enviroment, everything was peachy keen. It was far from it. As days turned into months and I began to look like I was smuggling a VW Bug under my shirt, I began to resent all the people around me. I hated Maggie for how she had ruined my life. I hated everyone my own age who got to live life normally....happily. I hated Joe for his ability to just walk away and forget it all. I hated God for hating me so much. And the hatred I felt for myself grew with every passing hour. Because I had made such reckless decisions, my daughter would never know her mother. I added her life to the long list of others that I had managed to ruin.

September 8, 2004 marked the day I became a mother. I have yet to see anything as beautiful as my daughter. I would burst into tears every time I looked into her face. The last night in the hospital, I begged the nurses to leave her in the room with me. All night I lay there with her in my arms, watching her sleep. This tiny little angel had been sent down from heaven and I loved her with my whole heart. I physically ached from the pain that I knew I was going to have to bear in the next twelve hours.

I'm glad to say that since September 11, 2004, I have never again felt as much pain as I felt that day. I watched the love of my life, my heart and soul, being carried away to a new life. A life that didn't include me. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

I remember the weight of her tiny body as I dressed her in pink from head to toe. Maggie, please don't hate me. I remember feeling her soft hair against my cheek. I love you more then you'll ever possibly know. I remember hearing the snap of her car seat straps and thinking they sounded like gunfire. I can't do this! I remember collapsing into my mother's arms as she was being carried away. Dear Lord, please don't make me do this. I remember screaming, "Oh my god! My baby! What have I done?" over and over again until my throat was raw. Please just let me die because I can't live without her. I remember crying until I passed out. Please just let this be a horrible dream...

For days I slept on the couch because I couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in my room alone. I couldn't imagine what it would be like waking up in my bed and not feeling her move around. I hated myself. I hated life. I hated everyone around me.

To this day, at random moments, my heart skips a beat and I want to double over in pain. I'll hear or say the name Maggie and for a moment I'll feel like I'm going to faint. After I came home from the hospital, I developed an eating disorder trying to control the pain that was overwhelming my days. Some days I swear I can still hear the sound of her gentle breathing, although the memory is slowly fading. I still get phantom kicks in my stomach. Sometimes I still wish I could have her back.

I've been through hell and I've made it back. What choice did I have? If I fell apart, two lives would have been lost.

A friend once said it best, "I live my life one day at a time, as depressed as I feel, I live it." That's all you can do. Failure is not an option. You press on, you deal with the consequences. I have conquered an eating disorder. I have found Christ. My sins have been forgiven. I have forgiven my rapist. I have forgiven myself. I have a relationship with Maggie's parents. I am four semesters from being handed my bachelor's degree. I have an amazing boyfriend. I have close friends. I have repaired relationships. I am so close to be being engaged I can SMELL the diamond!! ;-) Things couldn't be better.

The thing I've learned, life is too precious to walk away from. There are a lot of things ahead for me in the future. Marriage, motherhood, PhD, saving children. I have so many things too look forward to but...sometimes it helps when I look back.