TW: violence, sexual assault. 

Hubs being all excited about me finally going for a ride on his motorcycle, decided to start rewatching Sons of Anarchy. I’d never really seen it, nor really found any interest in it, but Hubs enjoyed it so we sat down to watch an episode together. I came in right at the beginning of the second season. The very first episode ends with a horrible, flashback inducing scene. I’m sitting there on the couch next to Hubs, and he tried to turn it off once he realized what was going to happen but it was too late. One of the main characters was kidnapped, beaten and raped. 

I did okay that night, but the next few days were rough. Mostly because the flashbacks I’m having aren’t of the assault I’ve written about here before. This is something else. This is partial or repressed traumatic memories of the break in at my apartment slowly working their way to the surface and I’m not sure what to do with them. Emotionally it hasn’t been nearly as difficult as it was when I first started my therapy. I’m definitely much better prepared to cope with things than I was before. The biggest problem I seem to be having is the process of flashback memories themselves.

It’s like I’m traveling through a dense fog and these scenes just sort of pop out at me. It’s even more difficult to distinguish what are genuine flashbacks and what was the product of my subconscious connecting the dots while I was only partially aware. I felt like I was dreaming half the time, which I’m sure has something to do with my missing prescription pills. There is a thick veil of doubt surrounding everything.

The most clear events or memories I have after choking on what I assume were my missing pills are only a few vague moments. I remember being excited at first thinking that my husband had come home from work. I remember being in my bedroom with someone who reminded me of my husband, flirting with him and treating him to a sex act we don’t usually do together. That’s when things got weird. 

Suddenly it became obvious that this man wasn’t my husband. I pushed him away from me, and became very angry. We fought, screamed, and yelled at one another. The most I remember about that is being pissed the ehf off that this guy had taken advantage of me when I thought he was my husband. I remember the feeling of anger and betrayal more than anything else.

The third flash of events is me and this intruder in my bed, and his sweaty body hair being pressed up against my face as I was trying to push him away. The anger had subsided at this point and all of my emotions had shut down. I was in that moment and that moment alone, but I felt very detached from everything happening.  

The next thing I remember is Little screaming for me, not being able to shake the sleep from my head long enough to get up and rush to her aid, her wandering into my bedroom crying talking about a strange man, and the sensation of a warm body pressed against my own in the dark barely giving my Little room to snuggle in bed with me. 

Later that morning I was finally able to wake up by hearing my name called from outside my bedroom window, with the haze and headache that comes from using my seditives, a horrid, unfamiliar taste in my mouth and upset kids. 

It would have been easy to deal with if I had recognized immediately that some one had been inside my apartment. Instead it took me about a week. I was only home one more night after the break in incident before I returned to Indiana to work on the house. I found everything the night I came back to the apartment but a week had passed and now I’m stuck. It all feels uncertain and I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust my flashbacks enough to definitively say: “THIS SPECIFIC THING HAPPENED” the only thing I can do is talk about the weird drifting feeling, and evidence to support my intuitive nagging.

There WAS someone in my apartment. Little confirmed it. I remember jeans and a tan/light brown jacket. I have the shower curtain smeared with egg. I have pictures of the evidence left behind when he muscled his way in through my sliding door. Like the issue isn’t if he was or wasn’t there. He was there. The issue is trying to sort out what actually happened. 

The fact that these flashbacks happened after a triggering event makes my memories seem legit. The event wouldn’t be triggering unless there was some unresolved trauma somewhere. That’s what triggers ARE, and as vivid as my dreams can be I’ve never had a dream that was resurfaced by triggering events unless it was associated with legitimate trauma.

ARGH… I am frustrated with my broken brain. I wish my repressed memories would just STAY repressed, or be erased all together. I can accept that I’ll never really know what happened that night, but I’m really tired of boomeranging back to my half memories about it. I don’t need to be reminded that I can’t hardly remember. lol. Hopefully the wave will pass soon and I can keep on moving forward. It’s definitely been much easier over all this time. I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on myself. It took me ten years to recover from the trauma that sent me to therapy in the first place. We’re just barely at two months for this one. Onward and upward I guess.

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