The beauty of day dreaming. Some of the most emotional pitfalls I’ve had in my life were daydreaming about a life impossible to have. My life is truly a blessing. I know that I have so much to be grateful for. However, I’m an average person. Not exceptionally intelligent, not particularly attractive, not artistic or wealthy, just an average Jane. That may sound like I feel sorry for myself but I also don’t struggle with many anxieties or insecurities. I’m not saying I’m without them, just that they roll off my back pretty easily. As a little girl I had big dreams. I wanted to be a dancer, music always moved me and I could let myself get carried away with it. More than anything in the world I wanted to be a wife and mother. I guess I would say I was born conservative minded if you can claim it’s a trait from birth. I wanted the whole apple pie. My dream was for a romantic proposal with adoring onlookers sharing our magical moment. All of this followed by a breathtaking wedding dress made of virginal white silk, lace, and adorned with intricately placed pearls, chosen with my lifelong best friends, long lost mother and a mother in law who was so grateful her son chose me. As a young girl I had already chose colors and venues from castles to beaches. The whole event was very extravagant.

The first time I married I was a runaway ward of the state, 15 years old, and nine weeks pregnant. Those attending were myself, the babies father, his sister and the only judge available due to elections. The worn blue jeans and blue shirt begrudgingly wore was nothing compared to the awkward way I tried to hug my new husband instead of kissing him in front of the judge. Following the ceremony I headed to his sisters house while they left for work. My romantic honeymoon postponed for never.

The second time I wed I was gonna do it right. I went with my best friend and daughter and tried on a wedding dress. Listening to all the mothers and daughters cooing over how breathtaking they were in their dresses. My very heart started shaking taking my breath away. I stepped out of the dressing room, my best friend and the sales lady tried to assure me that I was a vision as well. The mirror before me told a different story. The picture I saw was not at all what I had envisioned. Before me stood a person scared of loving another, there was no magic, no tears of joy. The woman I saw before me was a fraud. She was no princess with people vying for a glimpse of history in the making. She was a woman with few friends and with no family. I stared into the eyes of a woman giving up on a hope, broken hearted I quickly turned away and removed the dress. With conviction I made the decision to marry in a simple dress with mostly our children present . No one need witness the pain of me accepting a defeated dream.

She was strong, she was open and none of us questioned her. She was a natural leader and she defended her friends from the staff. As the eldest and possibly the most street smart she had an air of confidence about her that abuse and circumstances had robbed from most of us. This was my friend from the first group home I called home. From day one she took me under her wing and I was so grateful. Finally I was greeted with a commonality after so much time of being on the outside and left to fend for myself. She welcomed me to sit beside her at dinner and also when we had “house meetings”. House meetings were typically about household chores, conduct or personal belongings. I can’t express my gratitude for having a friend with mere words. At ten I was the least of the group and hadn’t learned the ins and outs of juggling group life.

Many times she would come to my bed at night and we would laugh and talk after others had fell asleep. She would talk about her horrible mother and I would listen mostly because I had always been taught to keep my pain quite. She asked me if any sick man touched me and made me feel bad. I quietly wept and she hugged me tight. She was truly a friend.

One night I cried out having terrors and she came in and shook me awake and crawled in beside me and held me until I fell asleep. This happened several times and it was so nice to have this connection and not feel so alone. As I fell into the silky comfort of having a protector I became less guarded and let myself feel some peace. That’s when she reached around and went from hugging me to rubbing my breast. Alarms immediately went off and I pulled away practically pushing her off the bed. My voice started escalating and she pulled away. “Whoa chica, I must have been dreaming, but you would get me in trouble?” She left my room obviously angry.

The next morning I was isolated. She snubbed me and rolled her eyes at me. I really regretted over reacting but now I lost my only friend, my only grounding and the loneliness was so painful. After days of this I sought her out and apologized. She side hugged me and said “it’s ok mija, you could learn a lot from me but I guess you are are too young” I begged her to still be my friend I expressed that I’m not that immature and I don’t usually overreact. She said “I don’t know, maybe you should hang with the younger girls”. Later that day she brought me a pen that was mine and it smelled of strawberries when I wrote with it, I had been looking for it for several days. She tossed it my way smiling and said “see, I still got you”. I knew then that she was befriending me and I was so grateful I would never be so childish again.

That night and every night after I laid in bed where she explored every inch of me, expressing to me that touches are meant to feel good. They did feel good and I found myself wanting her to come visit. I acted like I was asleep but she knew I wasn’t, pretending to be a sleep I could feel like I didn’t agree but I never fought her or complained. Instead I would position myself for easier access, leaning into the touches.

For years I have lived with the guilt. Feeling like I had eagerly accepted these advances. Instead of realizing that in the beginning she had spun her silky web. It was beautiful and glistened at times. Once I was in the web she approached and I struggled. So like all hungry spiders she stuck me with her venom of loneliness and isolation. That pain was greater than anything else at that time. This venom turned my insides into a liquid state ready for digestion. I seemed fine from the outside but inside was hollow. My body did have normal reactions to touch because healthy and unhealthy touches no longer were separate. This guilt that I’ve lived with, the shame of protecting my abuser because of my own blame. My guilt in allowing it, my guilt of enjoying it, and my guilt of sacrificing my body to save my heart from being alone.

Please please don’t feel guilty if someone takes advantage of you and you don’t know how to respond. Don’t feel guilty if your body responds in a manner that your heart or mind isn’t happy about. Don’t feel guilty if you choose a lesser of two evils that repulses you. Always remember that Peter loved Christ and never imagined himself denying him because that act would go against everything in his heart but faced with fear he chose to betray his Savior and himself. Later he redeemed himself and stood up for his love and our one true King, Jesus Christ.

Dissociation: the ability to disconnect mind from body in a daydream like state (not clinical term)

Mithridatism: administering non lethal amounts of poison or venom to build immunity

Today at church our pastor encouraged us to write down our deepest pain on a piece of paper that had the word (Thankful) written on the other side and then place it in a prayer box. We would then pray and give thanks for the lessons learned from the pain in our life and for victory from the pain. I couldn’t participate. The first time I couldn’t even write it down, the second time I wrote it down but clutched it with all my strength and refused to put it in the box.

When I was a very young girl I fought and grieved my abuse. I tried to understand why someone would hurt me. I feared the dark alleys, whined about hunger, had faith in Santa and Jesus, Then repeated doses of trauma caused me to build an immunity. Every time I went hungry for days, or my body was used to release a persons anger or satisfy fantasies I became more indifferent. I quit crying for help or fighting for freedom. I was given doses of trauma in a way people give themselves venom to become immune to snake bites.

I am grateful for my strength and the lessons I’ve learned but how do I turn over the grit that keeps me indifferent when I face pain again.

The strength to disconnect from my mind when at gun point, the ability to produce hallucinating fractals when I suffer, the courage to cut people I love from of my life, these are my imaginary super powers.

Why don’t I break? My core comes from a place of acceptance. I had been in denial, anger, bargaining, depression, to finally just accepting my poison. Why does divorce shatter someone’s entire life? Why does an affair render someone useless and emotionally cripple them? Why do financial struggles cause families to split? How can I let it go that every person I’ve put my trust in not only let me down but tortured my body or mind for their own satisfaction.

I used to think I was singled out for pain, now I know I was. There are some in my life who would never hurt others or never have, but I was treated as dispensable. Trust me when I say, I don’t want pity. The woman I am.

Is strong and capable. I am never afraid of anyone or anything, because in all honesty. I don’t know what they could do to me that the people I loved and trusted hadn’t done before them.