This time of year, I am always confronted with the face, actually multiple faces, of Mark. Early me. April is sexual assault awareness month and also the "anniversary" of my second rape. 1990 was one of those years that was unbelievably incredible and completely tragic at the same time. It was the year I first experienced sex with another man. It was, also, the year I was raped by two different men I knew, the second being my boyfriend.
Each year, I am faced with the memories, it doesn't matter how far I have come, or how much I have learned, the shame still lingers. Each year, the shame isn't as intense; I can actually look at myself in a mirror now without lowering my eyes.
Being Daylight has really opened my heart and eyes to the reality of my life rather than the projections of my shame that generally circle my soul. Embracing the sexy ways of Daylight has allowed me to look at myself in a different way; in a brighter, more playful and kind way. In return, those new sensations allow Marco to see more clearly who I am and, this year, I have been blessed with seeing Mark smiling back at us! Haven't seen him smile in 26 years.
This year has provided me with more breath and support for my voice. My meditation has brought me face to face with that terrified, frightened and shame filled Mark who couldn't face the reality of his world as a survivor of rape. Mark was too occupied with excusing the situation; turning blame on himself. Only seeing the discarded body, a spine with child bearing hips and an abused ass of his 21 year old body.
I don't remember much from that time. I recall moving home, but mom and dad had sold the house and were in a rental; so the comfort of my childhood home and forest sanctuary were not available for me. I remember taking to the bed with a terrible sciatica attack for a few weeks and disappearing behind the dark room and pills. I remember drinking to face my day and putting on a mask of joy, so that no one would know I had been raped. I felt like the shame was so large that it was obvious to anyone who would look at me.
Enter Marco, he was new to New York, no one knew him, so he had a fresh slate and a heart full of optimism. The path to self-love had begun. About time! The previous 3 years had been a blur of school, cigarettes, performing, drinking and searching. Searching for a thread of the innocence I loved about myself. I searched for the kindness I needed to feel alive.
What I found was I learned to be alone, not lonely. Huge for me. I was finally able to walk by myself without fear of being attacked; that stemming from the assault my senior year of high school. Sometimes I feel like the biggest broken record. Stuck in the same spot; never able to move beyond. This year, as I saw Mark smiling at me, I recognized that is not the case. I have been climbing a wide spiral stair case up from the depths of my shame. Always staying towards the center of the stairs, never daring to look over the edge. I took a page out of my own book, and took a step beyond my comfort zone and peered over the edge and noticed that the distance I have travelled is vast! The starting point nowhere to be seen.
I looked up and out and saw I was surrounded by the vast beauty of nothing, skies and skies open and free. It caused me to take a breath. The work has been worth it. All the years of therapy and learning worth it! That is the lesson, we are all worth the work. Facing the issue of sexual assault and not allowing the shame to control me is the technique. I was flabbergasted the other day when I was having a causal conversation with a friend and I made the comment that this is the first time I've actually liked myself. I and 47. I am so glad I figured it out because I am worth the good times on offer.
It was like the moment I first did Contact Improvisation and I have to give myself to another human; I had to give in to gravity and allow myself to be supported by another and give support in return and to move without control. To allow our bodies to move through space and time as they must. This lesson was brought even further to light last week at an Alexander Technique workshop and we were focussed on my ribs. It came up that I carry my ribs more elevated. I used to say it was from dance and theater. The reality is, I did it so that I wouldn't shrink away and disappear. It was my 'fake it till I make it' stance. I was able to see it for what it is and work on letting it go; giving in to gravity, finding my water strength and giving in and rolling on. My mantra singing within, "I am not my wounds. I am not my wounds. I am not my wounds."
No comments:
Post a Comment