Ten

one thing I know / this pain will go / step through all that's left to feel... / one thing I know / this day will go
~ Suzanne Vega, Birth-day

July 5th will mark the tenth anniversary of my rape. Many of you don't even know that that is something I survived; it's not something I generally open with. Now before you stop reading for the discomfort everyone experiences at the word 'rape', let me assure you that this will not be your typical whiny 'why me' rant. I know why me. In years past this anniversary has not necessarily gone well, I'll admit. Sometimes the body remembers what the mind refuses to even acknowledge. It was as though the memory of that night lingered on my subconscious; just hovered beneath the surface. Enough for me to have a totally crap emotional day, but not enough for me to even realize WHY I was having a crap emotional day. A few years ago, my mother and I made a pact. A pact that no matter what we would celebrate that day. This might seem awfully strange to some. Celebrate the day I was raped? But that's me. I look for the silver lining. It took me awhile to come to that, by the way. This wasn't an immediate waking up the next morning skip to the doodle all day yippee I got raped and beaten discovery. Quite the contrary. The next morning after I was raped, I got up and went to my summer English class as though nothing had happened. Actually, there was not getting up as I never really went to sleep. I refused to believe that my life had been utterly shattered and changed. For awhile the rape was something I hid. My boyfriend at the time even dumped me because he could not deal with it. Really? How did he think I felt? Then I went into 'dealing' with it. Which basically consisted of me trying to not have any emotion and everyone around me trying to get me to cry for my 'loss'. Thank you to those of you who stood idly by, gently patted my shoulder and apparently expected nothing of me. It was all I could give. Somewhere along the way though I found me. There was a lot of therapy, a lot of disaster. There was a whole whole lot of me trying to get back the girl I was before that night. And then there was a realization that I should just kinda go forth from where I stood right then. I wish I could tell you some eloquent romantic tale of how that discovery came to pass, but there is none. As all real truths occur, this one silently tip toed upon me and gently took me over. No startling revelation. Just a simple, ' I think I'd like to grow up now. I think I'd like to be a real girl'. And so you all came to have a Catherine. And here is my tale of thanks - without all of that, without all the pain, the unfortunate drama(s), the bad relationships, the suicide attempts and the therapy bills, without the rape and the pain that ensued I may not have wound up me. I'm a pretty big fan of me, I'd like to think you are too. Five years ago my mother and I went to celebrate my 'birth-day' and were met with utter disaster and much laughter. We went to go hiking, we wound up washing paint out of all of my dry cleaning on some rocks in a creek. And laughing and laughing and loving. I have no definite plans for Saturday the 5th, my 10th birth-day, but I think I will go to the beach. I will head for the water. I'll think about the girl I was, I'll be grateful for the woman I am, and I bet I'll get a pretty good sunset out of the deal.