“Tell someone, anyone”

It’s usually at night, once the alcohol starts reclaiming its all to familiar home within my body, that my brain allows itself to wander. To feel, just for a moment.

“Tell someone”. My head is screaming at me to tell someone. Tell my husband. Tell my friends. Tell literally anyone. Sometimes I think one drink too many and I just might do that.

But I can’t. Not yet. I’m not ready to.

But do you know how hard it is to live with this alone? Do you know how hard it is…

Do you know how hard it is to have sex again, to be touched again by someone who loves you, by a spouse…after you’ve been violated like that by someone else?

My husband goes to touch me and my thoughts are not with him. They are back on that night with that person when he forced himself on me.

I literally feel disgusting, and terrified and just panicked. Every fiber of my being wants to tell him. Honestly, I think he knows some of it, what was done to me right in front of him. But I really don’t know.

There’s safety in anonymity, which is why I feel like I can only even write about it here. But even then, even here, I hold back. I don’t know if the full story will ever be told, if I’ll ever really be strong enough for that.

It’s so scary to write about this. To talk about it. To bring it into existence with thought. But it’s real. It happened. It happened to me. And honestly, I’m fucking terrified it’s going to happen again. If you knew who it was, if you understood the situation…

I wish I knew it was over. I wish I knew I was safe. That all that was in front of me was the road to recovery… But I know I’m still in danger.

My nightmares are getting worse…my insomnia, the drinking…I’m losing ground here.

I know I’m likely talking to nobody here, but maybe someday, someone reads this and finds this relatable. And if it helps them, even if only a little….then this struggle and clumsiness to get these words out will be worth everything.

My story is not often talked about. Certainly not this fresh, this raw…but it is common. It’s so fucking common.

It’s so common that this isn’t the fucking first time I’ve been in a situation like this, although this particular situation is disgustingly unique.

I’m so angry. And I’m so scared. I fucking hate him. But I’ve spent my entire life trusting him. It’s fucked up. And I feel everything. But I don’t know what to do about it.

So for now, I’ll do nothing. I’m not ready to. I’m still in shock, honestly.

I guess I’ll just keep torturing myself and rewatching 13 Reasons Why. Because that’s so healthy.

I will be ready one day. But today isn’t it. I just freaking hope that nothing worse happens between now and then.

He fucking lives next door.

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