Especially afte…

Especially after closing the door on my child, I felt much like a marionette. Being tugged and pulled and moving about at the hands of something or someone else. There was no time to think things through, I had to act with feriocity. 

My body moved down the stairs, through the sitting room, and dining room and into the kitchen. I could feel him on my tail, but was determined to get what I needed. There I was, reaching for the large knife I had pictured myself grabbing, but I fumble. I try again, this time grabbing whatever I could, he was so close to me. The wooden block was full of different knives. There was one in there that we never really knew what to use it for. The filet knife had a curved shape to it and was maybe 8 to 10 inches long.  Certainly not the knife I would have seen myself using to pierce the flesh of my attacker.

I am holding a knife. It falls to the ground. I can barely breath and know that I will die now. He is hovering over me, chest toward the ground. I am below him and as I stand and turn toward him I stab him.  The knife travels with ease through his layers of clothing, and into his flesh. My hand hits his pectoral with a thump. I release. He is caught off guard, arms flalling, body faltering, I start to fight him. I kick his ass right out the door.  His blood, fresh, on my floors is the reality of what just transpired in my home.

The SVU detective I spoke with later that night told me that he could’t understand why this man lived – I had hit a main artery in his chest and he should have died. At that moment I had wished he was dead. In fact for many weeks, and months following I wished that he had died. I couldn’t fathom meeting him again!  I knew there was to be a trial in the future and I did not want to face him again! I was terrified of him.

What if I had killed him? How would that have affected my healing and who I am today.  I don’t think I would want to live the rest of my life knowing that my life experiences include killing a man. I can’t imagine that my heart would hold the lightly, a burden I do not wish to bear.  Maybe this is why he lived, for me, so I could heal myself.  I am still very mad at him for what he did to us on that day in December, but I have forgiven him. Carrying a burden whether of death or hatred is too much in this short life. I choose, to be free.

Long Enough

Yes, its has been a while. So long that I forgot my user name and password. 

Why today? I am not really sure, guess it just feels right.  I have found, that for me, the only way to conquer my feelings is to share.  I have been very preoccupied the past few years, but it is this time of the year, every year, that my body starts to react. The thoughts of what happened to my family don’t stir up these crazy emotions.  My body just starts to feel different. Then my head. And it is cyclicle. And it lasts almost the entire winter.  On and off. Hot and cold.

My mouth is dry, and my body clenches tightly to my heart. It starts to beat rapidly. I feel dizzy and nauseous. I want to cry. I can feel the strain in my throat, cheekbones and in my eyes.  Waves of utter fear invade my body. I am unclear as to what I am so fearful of. Negative thoughts trickle and don’t stop. I am never suicidal, just completely vulnerable. Like anything can and will happen. Most of it is related to my girls and the possibilites of losing them. All this dissipates over a few hours and I am fine.  It never paralyzes me, just sets me back a little bit.  I overcome and move on. And that is the cycle. 

I understand all of this. It has been going on the past 6 years. But what now, what am I to do with it. That is always where I get stuck. So, today, I write.  It helps to share with you that I still feel the pain, it is very real after all these years.  I remeber that a friend reminded me healing is a process and this is just part of it I suppose.  I just wonder if it will ever all go away, or will I always be reminded at this time of year that Luna and I were attacked by a monster. That our lives were threatened and our idealistic home terrorized.  We rebuild, add on but remain at the core, unsettled. 

Thank you all for listening. It really helps me. xoxoxo

I haven’t talked much about Luna’s recovery.  She is very well, a happy, sincere little girl.  I have always called her an “old soul.”  She has the wisdom of an elder and has helped me tremendously in my healing.  I find if I really listen to her, she gives me answers to really difficult questions that I have about myself.  She is the epitome of beauty and compassion, and I am so proud she picked me to be her mother.

The day after the attack, I called Luna’s pediatrician.  I shared the events of the previous day with him, telling him of the attack.  I asked him what I could expect from Luna.  He assured me that children are resilient and that she was too young to remember.  I hung up the phone knowing in my heart that Luna was not a little girl who was going to just forget what happened that day.  She was still acting very normal for a two-year old many days after the attack.  But, she was definitely carrying a burden, and I could hear it in her voice when she would ask “are you okay mommy?” 

We were staying with my parents after the attack.  One of my father’s friends came to the house a few days later.  He rang the doorbell and then walked into the kitchen.  My Luna convulsed with pure fear.  Terrified, she called for me, and when I picked her up to console her, she clenched her little body around me and sobbed.  I knew that this incident was a trigger for her and that she was going to need help.  She reacted in this way a few other times shortly after the attack.  The doorbell is still a trigger for her.  She does not react like she did that day, but she immediately stiffens up and does not relax until she knows we are all safe.

I will continue to write about Luna’s experiences in the following posts.  This is one of the most difficult parts, because I really don’t want to think about what my girl has had to go through and what she has lost.  I just have to remind myself of all that she has gained, and that she really is a loving and happy little girl.  I am very proud of her.

Read my story at Violence Unsilenced, link is under the blogroll.  It will be published April 22, 2010.

Alexi (just begining)

You have come here with a purpose, fierce and red-hot

Your cries of passion fill the warm moonlit room

Round and bursting you come searching,

you attach yourself to me and fill yourself up,

reluctant to let go, I do not want to be alone

You clench your tiny fists tight,

and then release for all the world to hear

“I am here and this is me!”

My child of the sun, I embrace you and your ferocity.

I am your mother.

Luna (just the beginning)

You came into the world blue-faced and barely breathing. 

I begged you to breath, to be with me.  I need you too. 

A tiny cry entered the heavy air, your cry. 

You are present, with me,

in my arms, against my breast. 

You are searching, for warmth,

reassurance, love, milk. 

I give you all that I can and I always will. 

My child of the moon, I will always give you what I can.

I am your mother.

Home

We moved into our home in the Germantown section of Philadelphia, a little over a year before the assault. We had bought the house from an elderly man whose wife was born in the house and we were the first newbies to live in it.    It was an 80-some year old row with all the character that you would expect.  Original oak wood floors, ornate glass doorknobs attached to real, heavy wood carved doors fixed with working transoms, teeny tiny closets and bathrooms,  a built-in cedar closet in the basement.  It was a truly charming home for first-time buyers, one I fell in love with the moment I walked in.  The block was not devoid of character either.  It was very diverse filled with colorful people, old and young, black and white, hetero and homosexual. Elders that had lived there since they were born and  youngsters moving in to revitalize the old hood.  That is what I had wanted, to breathe life back into a very historic part of the city, with the hopes that other young families would follow.  I had dreams for our new house and neighborhood.

Because the house was so old it did need some work and updating.  We did a lot of painting, cleaned up an old bedroom that was covered in layers of intricate wallpaper, started updating an outdated bathroom with a rusty old faucet,  traded in the 1950′s stove/oven  for a newer model, and cleared our small plot of a backyard.  We consistently discussed our ideas for a new kitchen and layed out the garden areas in our backyard.  Our plan was to make  this our home for at least 10 years.

I wanted to put my roots down here, figuratively and physically.  I daydreamed about the various community gardens I would help create, ones filled with lush landscapes, fruiting trees and delicious vegetables. Children would congregate and explore the greens, tasting and smelling plants.  They would find insects, birds and furry little animals with the excitement of opening their Christmas presents.  My community would come together through the year, planning and planting with the common interest of making our neighborhood a better more beautiful place for our children.  It wasn’t too far-fetched, it was happening all over Philadelphia – Kensington, Fishtown, Northern Liberties, Mount Airy, and in Northeast Philadelphia.  I had big plans for my new home.

As you know, these dreams were shattered by the vicious acts of one man.  What had happened to this poor man to bring him to perform  acts of vulgarity at least FIVE times throughout  his life?  Who had destroyed his dreams?  Did he have dreams or was he a born rapist?   I wish I knew the answers, I wish I could understand where and what he was coming from.  I do not hold hate for this man, because if I did I would not heal.  I hate what he did, but I do not hate him.  Instead I am filled with compassion for this man who has lived a horrible life.  I still have this “I can change the world” mentality that I have had since I was twelve, but I do believe in my heart that I am close to something big and though I may have lost those particular dreams, I am so filled up at this time in my life, that I want to thank the one man who shattered my dreams because he brought me new life.   I am onto something big, ya’all watch out!

Birthing

I remember telling myself in one of those very first nights following the assault, that I was going to do all that I could to protect the livelihood of my family, especially Luna.  No matter how difficult it may be I was going to get out of bed in the morning, I would eat food throughout the day, I would not drink alcohol or take medication and I would continue to excercise.  It was not easy, but I could not imagine destroying my family’s life due to my own self pity.  Luna didn’t deserve a weary mother, she deserved someone she could be proud of.  That is what drove me.  I knew that the healing would be hard, sort of how a woman knows that childbirth is hard, but to really go through it is something else.  It is a complete ebb and flow of emotions, a truly crazy experience of the human psyche and I am glad to have been there.

We stayed with my parents for several weeks.  Ten or so days following the attack, I was to appear in court for a Preliminary Hearing.  I have written about that experience in a previous post, but I just want you to understand the sheer fear that I felt in that court room.  It was a debilitating dread, I stood with the weakest of knees, my throat constricted with emotions, my head a concrete block.  I thought that I would never get through the day and thankfully it didn’t cross my mind that I would have to go through this again 9 months down the line.  I can honestly say that I have never felt this kind of fear, nor do I ever want to again.

I remember lying around a lot, trying the keep the panic attacks away.  I played with Luna a bit too.  During the day, my mom’s house was empty, everyone carrying on with their lives and their work.  I looked forward to the evening when the house was full again, I felt safe this way.  I tried hard not to let Luna see to much of my pain and anxiety, but she could feel it.  I hated that. 

I remember how difficult it was going to my sister’s house and to other friend’s houses.  I hated how they had homes with their own food and their own fires.  I envied them and it angered me that I had no home anymore.  I hated watching other friends and family carry on their daily routines while I struggled to get through the days.  Christmas was approaching and I hated that everyone else bought trees and trimmed them it in their homes with their families.  I felt like everyone was uneffected by what happened to us and I hated that.  Not that I wanted people to suffer in any way, but I wanted our old life back, the one where we went on as if nothing happened.

These resentful feelings lasted several weeks, until one day I was at the park with Brian and Luna.  I looked around at the other mothers and fathers with their children and felt that envy, and I took a moment and thought how do I know that these people haven’t come from something difficult or traumatic.  I don’t know anything about what others really go through, so how can I be truly envious?  It was the biggest thing that I have learned from my whole experience;  I can not judge based on what I see, and I would listen to others stories without judgement or comparison.

George

I am going to focus on some details of after the attack for a while.

Brian got the call at work a few minutes after I pushed my attacker out of the house.  He was home within minutes.  We passed Luna off to Brian’s boss and friend.  The police were there and questioning was about to begin.  Brian sat there next to me, awestruck.  I told the police everything I could and then was escorted downtown to Temple Sinai where I received a rape kit. 

That hospital was about the worst place to have to go after I was just attacked.  It was full of junkies, drunks, thugs and just outright frightening people.  I felt so afraid there.  I was called into an exam room and a Doctor poked and swabbed me, took samples and gave me the 72 hour abortion pill, just in case.  

A case worker from Women Organized Against Rape came in to speak with me about their organization and gave me some information.  I had a miserable headache.  From here I was to go to SVU where I would go through more questioning and have to pick out the perpetrator from mug shots.

You can not imagine how terrified I was looking at those mug shots.  I was so sure before hand that I would be able to pick this guy out in a crowd, but here lie the photos in front of me and I panic.  I was  never very consistent under pressure.  I shook horribly inside and decided to eliminate men.  They looked so similar to me and I DID NOT want to make a mistake.  After several minutes I pointed to man, the man that forced his way into my house with a 10 inch knife and sexually assaulted me while my baby girl watched.  He was a 51-year-old man who lived in our part of the city, 1 block over two blocks up.  He lived with his girlfriend and took care of her children.  He worked as a landscaper for an Irish man in our area.  He had worked and been invited into the home of one of my friends.  He had a history of drugs, alcohol, probation, theft and as I found out during my trial, rape. 

After all this, Brian took me back to our house where we met an officer to show him a piece of evidence, and then we went to my parents house.  It was 11ish PM by the time we got there and moments after I walked in I watched my house on TV with newscasters in front of it telling MY story.  It was so unreal.  Luna was in bed and I went to her bedside and cried.

Four Years Later

I am not quite sure yet how to approach this day.  Do I give it recognition or treat it as just another day?  Do I weep or celebrate?  I just don’t know.  For now I am just going with it, not really doing much about it. 

Four years ago a horrific episode occured in my home, something that I wish never happened, but at the same token I am grateful for the opportunity to better myself.  I have been forced to better myself and I just don’t know if I would have had this journey of new self discovery if it wasn’t for that day.  Sure it is sad and the healing has been difficult, but I have learned SO much about love, life, friendship, compassion.  Luna is a very happy and spirited girl and I have worked very hard to encourage that.  I have taken very good care of myself; asked for help when I needed it, forced myself to eat and excercise, talked a lot to friends and therapists, I gave myself whatever it was that I needed to get through this. 

I am very thankful for each day that I have with my family. For having the opportunity to watch my children grow and flourish and for being able to kiss my husbands lips and feel his warmth all around me. I think these are the things I will focus on today.  I am not a victim, I am a survivor, a mother, a sister, a daughter and a friend.  Peace and love to all…