My friends are scared

This is wrong. My friends are scared. They fear for their safety. They worry about raising kids in this world. Their kids are terrified they won’t come home each night.

Who do they call if they need help? They have no one. Worse than that, they are the hunted.

In this crazy, upside-down world, victims are turned into the villains. Children are growing up without dads, moms, aunts, brothers, sisters, uncles, cousins. Because of hate. Hundreds of years of falsely reaffirmed hate.

I have not stopped crying about the deaths of black people this week. It can’t be real. Why hasn’t this stopped already? Why can’t I wake up? But this isn’t about me. And it’s real.

It’s about my friends who are scared. Those who I do not know who are scared. My beautiful friends. The beautiful people I do not know. Who loves them? Who protects them?

Do something. Racism exists. It isn’t over. Read the comments on articles and you’ll see it. Look around and you’ll see it. Listen to your black friends and you’ll hear the scars left by racism.

We all need to make a change. Be the change and be the good.

Relief

For those who wish: the original story of my sexual assault.

Today I found out the man who raped me moved across the country. I never thought I’d feel such incredible relief. I never thought about the possibility of never seeing him again. I thought he would be a constant in my city. In my life.

Whenever I would see him, I always would get a chill. Whenever I saw him, I always felt like I was being watched. Always.

I hate that being raped affected me. Before I was invincible. Now I am vulnerable.

I was raped by a friend, not a stranger. Not some peeping-tom creeper. But I still check all the doors, windows, and cars to be sure they’re locked at night. Somedays I feel insecure being in public. It’s a control thing. Knowing what to expect and when to expect it feels comforting. It’s my new normal.

It’s like wanting to have all the lights on, and simultaneously have them off. You want to see what’s in the shadows, but you want to hide in them too.

You want to sleep, but only in the dreamless sleep exhaustion brings. When Chris is out of town it’s the worst. I stay up way too late busying myself with chores until I’m beyond exhausted. Sometimes I sleep in bed with one of the kids, or just have them all in my bed. My kids will save me from the boogyman. That’s how I roll now.

I’m sure this will always torture me, but that might begin to heal now that I won’t see him. Ever.