Permission to feel

Last week, something happened. I’m still not sure what to call it, how to classify if, but for arguments sake, let’s say it falls under the category of sexual assault. But I really don’t want to talk about it.

That’s a lie, I desperately want to talk about it. But wanting to and knowing how to…being able to, are apparently very different things. I don’t know why I can’t, it shouldn’t be hard to say the words. I don’t want to be cryptic about it, I don’t want to be vague, so I don’t know why I can’t just talk about it.

Do I not want this person to get in trouble? Is there a (huge) part of me that is afraid people will think I’m being ridiculous or dramatic? Is it that I’ve been through so much, I’ve been through “worse” (but really, that would be comparing apples and oranges at this point), so this shouldn’t be that big of a deal?

Do I just not want to believe that this person could have done that to be?

It’s probably all of that and more. The problem is, I feel like I need to label it, understand the “severity of the offense” before I can begin to talk about it. I feel like I need permission to be upset about it, like I need to be given the “okay” to be given to me by someone else that yes, this was a big deal and I have a right to be as upset as I am. Or, on the contrary, “yeah it sucked but sort of just get over it”.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this. I don’t know if this person could get in trouble, but I don’t want them to.

Honestly, it has everything to do with who this person is. I have to see him tomorrow evening under the exact same circumstances, and to be honest, I am panicking.

I saw him yesterday for the first time since it happened and it didn’t go well. Not for me, anyway. Things were said to lead me to believe my safety will potentially be in jeopardy once again tomorrow.

I don’t feel good about this. Hah. That’s a fucking understatement.

Shit. I guess there’s a fucked up part of me that feels like, if it happens again, if something like that happens again, there’s absolutely no room for me to question myself. it will hurt more than I could ever describe, but at least I’ll know.

Every night this week has ended with drunken panic attacks and violent nightmares that literally end with me attacking my husband in my sleep.

I’m not okay with this, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to feel. And I definitely don’t know what to say.

I can’t take many more nights fighting with myself about this..fighting my feelings, desperately trying to be okay with it all the while knowing… it’s really not okay.

I’m absolutely terrified for tomorrow. I don’t want to be in this position. But, again…

If you knew who it was, you’d understand why I can’t just not be around them. I wish it was possible, I wish I could run.

I wish I had a fucking choice.

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