A long long time ago, on another planet (it seems), my whole world took a turn for the insane. I’ve only sat one person down in the whole world and explained what happened from beginning to end. He knows what I mean when I say ‘the stalker’. He knows that I refer to not only a person, but an event – a happening. An incident.
My husband knows that when we reminisce, when we retell our lives to each other, when we recount our worlds pre-us, some of the stories run into ‘those’ stories and sometimes I choke on what comes next. He knows I use stupid phrases that don’t fit to encompass entire periods of time. He knows that when a story comes to ‘and then, the stalker’ that that is, in fact, the end of that story. That ‘and then, the stalker’ is where many of my stories just hang.
I don’t even have a proper name for it.
Either way – here’s the point: I wasn’t the only the only one there, then. I wasn’t the only – victim? Survivor? There were a lot – more than I’ll ever know. More than, I think, I even want to know about – but everyone else was inhuman to me. Their stories tried to make mine fade and tried to make my reaction invisible. The others stole pieces of my pain to smooth their own, and tried to turn me into a number. All, of course, but one.
She became human to me – made me realize that we were still women, still alive. Still going to live. She really was a survivor. I would have never considered adding ‘victim’ to her story – she was going to beat this. She was going to kick this things’ ass. And she did. And now, years and years and years later, and on another planet (it seems) she wants to visit me.
Where I live safely because no monsters live here or ever have lived here.
I am beside myself with worry that with her will come the rest of the story. Or more of it. Or some of it. Or just the ashes of what’s left of it. I am filled with anxiety at the thought that she may want to talk about it. We did agree - seven years ago – that we were done with it. That we would remain great friends for reasons not related to the terrorism that brought us together. But we haven’t seen each other since then – seven years ago. What if we have nothing else in common? What if conversation lags and the silence feels weird and she says “Hey, remember when he choked me?” and I panic and say “yeah, and remember when he hid in my basement?” ..then what?
Every time another piece of Then floats to the surface, I spear it – blurt it all out – talk about it – write about it – smash it to pieces – overcome it. I do fear that if I don’t, a tiny piece might fester. So what, universe, do I do with a whole person that floats to the top – hmm?
Beautiful post. I’ve never heard about “The Stalker” before, but I hope you can summon the strength to post about it in the future. I know things like that are very hard.
But, umm.. I was very excited when I looked out my window yesterday and saw a big box on my porch. I ran outside only to crumble to pieces when I realized it was YOUR box, and that my stupid head-in-his-ass bf obviously wrote the wrong address on the package. There was a big RETURN TO SENDER stamp on it. OMG. I could’ve died. I’m so so so sorry, and I TRULY feel like an ass. A big fat one at that.
I’m mailing it BACK out today, please send me your snail mail address again as I have cleaned out my inbox last week.
Please forgive me. I’m such a horrible friend.
Katherine
http://atomicmom.typepad.com
@theatomicmommy on Twitter
Katherine’s last blog post..Help! My Child Has Been Abducted by Aliens!
I am deeply sorry that you and anyone else was ever hurt in such a way…
Can I pose a question?
Would it really be so bad, after all you know and have discovered about this person that you admired, liked saw something to relate to in – would it be so bad to only have ‘that time’ in common?
I ask because, good people that we can connect to on any level are hard to find – but rarer still are those people we can relate to about the most nightmarish details of ourselves or our lives – details that maybe others would not be so inclined to allow us to share…or still, others would not be able to understand.
Cat
Cat’s last blog post..Flash Friday 55
*snort*
No problem – sending it now!
You are right – I really do need to embrace the fact that someone does identify with it. There are so many people out there going through things that have no one that understands.. thanks for the new understanding.
Well, I read your story on Friday and it took me until today to gather and organize my thoughts enough to comment on it. First off, thanks so much for sharing this with me. It’s not as though I hadn’t heard it all at the time, but there is something almost more intimate about reading it now (I mean that in a good way). Thank you.
That said, I had a stronger emotional response that I anticipated, and it took me a while to figure out why. Then I realized that although I had heard all of this, it was at a time when I was SO TOTALLY CONSUMED by my own experience (read:Trauma), I wasn’t really absorbing yours – other than as information. I didn’t really have my emotional response to what happened to you, until now. And holy fuck, I am so sorry!! I was also really struck by how different your experience was than mine. It was horrendous in both cases, but it was almost like reading about a different person in a way – he seemed to tailor his terrorism to us as individuals – like picking up on our worst fears and playing on them. Clever.
Enough on that, though. I am most of all proud of both of us for coming through this beautifully. I felt like you gave me way too much credit, both back then and probably now as well, for having my act together. I just faked really good (there is that to be said for narcissistic defenses).
But we’re OK now, and trauma-bonding entirely behind us, I am happy to have you as a friend. You inspire and delight me, and even if none of this had ever happened, I would TOTALLY want to be your friend. Thank you for still being mine.
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