bite your tongue

**TRIGGER WARNING: THIS POST WILL COVER RAPE AND ABUSE. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION**

it's scary starting something you don't know how to finish. i don't have any answers in this post, just a whole lot of questions and mess. 

there have been...well, in my opinions, way too many women in the news lately talking about sexual assault. 

not way too many because they shouldn't be talking about it, way too many because it's HAPPENED to way too many.

i'm one of those women, and now i'm talking about it.

a few years ago i was raped. in my own home. by someone i know. by someone i thought was a friend. someone i've known since high school.

the rape was, well, a rape. details don't matter. they physical part of it i've dealt with. i'm fortunate enough to have a great counselor that helped me work through the trauma part of everything. i'm not scared of sex, i'm not scared of men, i'm not scared of going places alone. i AM slightly wary of drunk aggressive men, but that's just good sense in general.

the part i haven't been able to deal with is all the stuff that comes from being raped by someone you know.

the basic stuff is basic: you remove them from facebook, delete their contact information, cut off all communication and interaction.

when he text messages you at thanksgiving saying he misses hanging out with you, you delete the message and pour a shot of whiskey. when he messages you at new year asking for a fresh start you again, delete the message and yeah, probably another shot of whiskey.

then you just stuff it deep down inside and go about life.

but what do you do when it's not just someone YOU know but someone people all around you know? when he have a company whose logo you see all over town? when he's best friends with people you can't separate yourself from?

when you end up still seeing pictures on facebook of him out drinking, something he swore he would never do again because of what happened, because friends of friends tagged them or commented or because facebook likes to recommend people you really want nothing to do with (gee, thanks facebook, keep your recommendations to yourself why doncha).

and you don't want to say anything. you don't want to blow up a family. you don't want to cause a rift between lifelong friends. you certainly don't want to cause a rift with people you still have to work with. in my case, the guy who raped me just so happens to be friends with my son's dad. my relationship with the baby daddy is solid most of the time, tenuous or strained for legit reasons on occasion, but rarely has it been hostile. the relationship with my son is just now starting to come around, letting something like this out of the bag would be...well...a few steps back is about as polite as i can phrase it. through no ones fault. it's news no one wants to hear. news even fewer people believe.

i know.

because it's not the first time i've held onto information like this.

my mother's husband is...he's not a great guy. i grew up, from a very young age, being told how i needed to learn to please men. i was being groomed for abuse. i was told plenty of things a 12 year old girl does NOT need to know. when i was 18, in my very first apartment, with my brand new baby, he decided it was appropriate to not only stash his (extensive) porn collection at my house but also...partake in said porn. in my living room. in front of me.

i held onto that for years. i finally told my husband when i was married. he then turned it against me and forced me to tell my mom during one of our particularly bad fights.

i finally told my mom about it and her exact words were "...well, it already happened. what do you want me to do about it?"

then years later, when she asked me to go to therapy with her, she told her counselor "...well it's natural for him to want to have relationships with teenagers. he never had friends when he was that age, he's just trying to make up for something he missed."  shortly after that is when she decided to tell me that i'm a liar and nothing i say is or ever will be true.

and that's why i haven't talked to my mom in several years.

sometimes it's just better to keep the information to yourself. the fallout cost is extremely high.

the point of all this.

fuck. i don't know what the point of all this is.

at the start of this school year we started giving one of the kiddos friends a ride to school. every day i see his dad's rig parked in the driveway with the bumper sticker logo of the company of the man that raped me. seeing the logo prompted my kiddo to ask again why i quit talking to my rapist. it made him ask, again, when we would be able to buy a sweatshirt or a hat that he's been asking about for a long time. a few days later a post popped up on facebook tagging my rapist in a lovely three day weekend out on the lake with a mutual acquaintance. wife, kids, friends, sunshine, out on the lake having a great summer. and it popped back up to the top of my feed every time someone liked it or commented on it.

HOW DO YOU DEAL WITH THAT? how do you deal with seeing the logo all over town? how do you deal with seeing the posts on facebook? how do you answer people who asked why ya'll don't hang out anymore? i don't live in a small town, but it's small enough. eventually we're going to cross paths. then what do i do?

and my experience is really trivial.

think of all the women at fox news- their career, their goals, their ambition is controlled by tolerating the actions of asshole men. keeping the secret because it's what they need to do to keep going. when they DO speak out they're shredded by the media because it's easier to believe a woman is a liar and seeking attention than to believe a guy everyone looks up to is not what he seems. think of the women that tried to speak out against trump. think of all the women who tried to speak out against sports stars, frat boys, community leaders, ANYONE.

my mother's husband is, of course, an upstanding citizen. he's a leader at their church, a hard worker, they take in exchange students (good lord don't get me started on the risk posed to exchange students who have no idea what is acceptable or normal in a totally foreign culture).

of course she believes him over her own rebellious, promiscuous teenage daughter.

and, like i said, i don't know what the answer is. i just know it sucks. it really, really sucks to have to keep ripping that band aid off while still trying to hide the wound.

and i know i'm not alone and that sucks even more.