I've already made promises to three people, at least, one of whom is my husband, that I will stay in the forum longer before "giving up", and I always keep my promises.
Besides, after I finish this novel and start revising the memoir, I might really need your support
(None of the smiley faces really seem to fit how I'm feeling right now.)
Last night I thought of one way to cope on my own: dance in the dark to Lady Gaga's "Fame Monster". We weren't allowed to dance when we were young. Maybe that's not the way to put it.
The first time I danced I was just under four years old and had just had those horrible braces removed from my feet and legs. I'd never even been able to walk before, let alone dance. So there I was, in the empty dining room, dancing away, when my drunken father (6'5", 250 pounds) grabbed me and started doing things that didn't feel "good". I managed to get away and run into the kitchen and "hide" under the kitchen table. He pulled me out, despite the fact that I was desperately holding onto the kitchen table leg (dislocated my shoulder, breaking my collarbone, and dislocating my hip in the process). Then he raped me.
When my mother came into my bedroom to see what I was crying about (I don't know where she'd been the entire time I was screaming for help and yelling at him to let me go), I told her that he did something bad to me. There was, of course, blood everywhere. She lifted me by the hair, slammed me into the wall, called me names which I did not yet know the meaning of, then shoved me into the closet, saying it was all my fault, that I deserved it for "being bad", and then locked the closet door, telling me that I had to stay there until I stopped crying and figured out what I had done wrong.
I don't know how long I was in there, but I know I never did figure out what I did wrong: except dance.
Every time after that, whenever I tried to dance, I attempted to do it in private. Somehow, my father, and later my stepfather, always managed to "catch" me (Silly me: they just heard the music, but I never figured it out), and my dancing always let to their raping me. Whenever they raped me, my Muncher mother's abuse of me increased exponentially.
So, I stopped dancing.
Last night, I decided to take dancing back. I was feeling very anxious. I went into my office, took my iPod, set it to Lady Gaga's "Fame Monster" put on the headphones and danced in the dark all around my office. Once, when "Telephone" (one of my favorites) ended, I put it on repeat, and I saw my husband standing in the dark in the doorway watching me. I closed my eyes and kept dancing. I danced and danced and danced. When I was done, I didn't feel anxious any more.
I felt tired, but in a good way. I went back into the bedroom, where my husband was reading. He said, "Feel better?" and I said yes. He said, "Was that Gaga?" and after I said yes, he said, "Gaga is good for you."
I've just taken dancing back from my incestuous-rapist father and stepfather and made it part of my healing.
I've just taken dancing back from my Muncher mother.
Dancing is good for me.
So is Gaga.
So is a loving husband who watches you dance and understands.
So is a support group who listens.
Thank you for listening.