the untold story

June 1st – that’s a lovely date to remember.

a few months ago, I decided that I trusted my two friends (married couple) enough to tell them my story. I didn’t know when would be the right time to tell them, but I knew that I was ready to trust them with it. as time passed, I allowed more hints to drop. one, I trusted them enough with such information, and two, I simply just hadn’t found the right time to explain everything.

last week, several of us hung around for HOURS after class. it was the couple, me, and another girl who is a good friend to us (just not close like the three of us are). we were swapping stories – stories about our pasts, things we’ve done, things that have happened to us. the other girl shared a difficult story about her family, and I dropped a lot of hints about mine. I said I wasn’t going to share the story here, but I would next time we were in a quiet place together.

tonight my married friends invited me over, and after a while they asked me to tell them. I knew it would happen that way, and I was glad of it. I knew that curiosity would kill the guy – he would puzzle over it, hypothesize, and continually ask me to tell until I finally did. not that he would do all these things for insincere reasons – it’s just the way he is. it doesn’t mean that he wants to know for the sake of curiosity alone. I was glad of what happened with our discussion last week – it opened the door so that they could INVITE me to tell them, rather than me try to find a way to step out there and tell them this difficult thing.

so, I told them. the usual story, though quite hesitant since it’s been a while. I never share what the abuse was – at least not until the voyeurism part of the story – I just share sort of a timeline of events. I noted as I spoke my lack of emotion. actually, I smiled a bit. it was difficult to tell the voyeurism piece, as it always is. as I got to this part of the story, I remember scott visibly moving to sit on the edge of his chair. the hardest is telling about the videotapes. it’s always the hardest.

when I finished, they were both quiet. scott said several times that he was struggling with what to say and not say. he didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

I also talked quite a bit about PTSD and my lingering symptoms. I wanted them to know. I want someone to know. I knew that it would be interesting to them, and I wanted to share it. I’m tired of being so alone with these symptoms. obsessing that someone might touch me, the paranoia about things that logically won’t happen, the constant hypervigilance and startle response, the nightmares and flashbacks and hallucinations.

they said so many good and helpful and kind things. they promised to help in any way if I ever called them – such as if I was having nightmares. they initiated telling me that this story wasn’t a burden to them – it wasn’t too much for them. I was so glad that they told me that, since it is always one of my worries in sharing. it was 12:20 before we noticed the clock. my friends usually go to bed much earlier. I felt back keeping them up, but the talk was just so wonderful.

when I finished the story, and my friends weren’t saying anything, I remember just smiling. I looked at the floor, smiling. I looked at one face and then the other, smiling. it felt good to have it all out there. it’s difficult, yes, but it feels so good. it felt somewhat inappropriate to smile after such a story…but I just couldn’t help it.

driving home tonight, I felt a brick in my stomach. it still makes me so nervous to share. it feels so…unsafe. I’m still scared that it will change things, that somehow this will come back and hurt me. I don’t know how to explain it…it’s just a brick of weight in my stomach.

so june 1st is the date to remember – the day that I finally told someone at grad school about my past. I hid it for an entire school year – 9 months. I haven’t held onto the secret that long since before I was at Hanover. wow.

and actually, I just realized that I missed my three year anniversary of the day I testified against dad. I’m pretty sad that I missed it – it’s such a special date! I was so busy this year that I completely forgot.