Here and Now

My name is Angela. I was raped by two men when I was eleven years old. It was brutal and ugly and I kept it hidden from everyone but myself for twenty nine years. I have finally found my voice. I'm trying to use it!

This way, that way, your way is always the better way. “Is this good?” I say Will I really get lost if I don’t do as you say? Just like this. See through my eyes. Put on my glasses. Try this disguise. I’ll show you how much easier your life could be if you could live it exactly like me. “Is this good enough?” I say What are the words that I hear? Don’t tell me that I don’t. I hear them plain. I see them clear. My way is no way. Angela Minard 2007

I can feel the words running through my mind like ticker tape. Flashing, scrolling, red , red ,red... I try to slow them down, faster than the speed of sound, the second hand spinning around and around. Push my fists into my eyes. Black, the sparks of starry skies. Rolling off my tongue they fall. Silence is not what it seems at all.

Good Vs. Bad colors darkness books hands kittens the smell of fear babies sudden loud noises quiet rain in the afternoon fingernails on a chalkboard violins stretch marks watermelon jolly ranchers ipecac swings teeter totters butterfly kisses angry shouting wishing unanswered prayers diet coke root beer the back of a little boys neck cigarette breath fuzzy caterpillars spiders stars thunder pink clouds whispered hate floppy velvet beagle ears being lost the smell of Dave's chest in the middle of the night being left

I got into a huge fight with my husband. Mostly over how I spend my time, which sounds so ridiculous. He has been so wonderful through all of this. I know that it is hard for him. See, I never told anyone about being raped when I was eleven, until last summer. I was in therapy to deal with the anorexia, and one night it just came out when I was talking with my husband. I had thought that I could keep it a secret forever, but inside I always felt like a fraud. He has been so great. I know that he is worried, and I have given him plenty of reasons to worry. Telling about the rape brought out feelings that I had tried to forget. I began having flashbacks and panic attacks. I have had a lot of episodes where I dissassociate and cannot remember anything. He feels like I "check out" to escape. Either with the anorexia, or drinking, sleeping, or the computer. If only I could truely escape!

I don't even know where to start right now. I am an adult woman, but if anyone had overheard the conversation that I had with my husband this morning, they would have thought that he was speaking to a child. Why does he think that he can tell me how to spend my free time? He would like to plan my schedule around his wants and needs. I'm so sick of it. I woke up at 5:30 this morning. I wrote and worked on my poetry website and for most of that time the rest of the family, including him, was still asleep. It is as if anything that I do just for me doesn't count. I should have been doing laundry, or cleaning, or any of the other hundreds of things that need to be done around here. I have been trying to balance my time so that no one feels slighted, but no matter what, it is never good enough. I'm just so frustrated right now, and so tired of feeling like I have no control over my own life.

A Perfect Circle There is no beginning. No perfect ending. Fear of losing. Never having anything To call your own. How can you be lost If you can’t call it home? There is no beginning No perfect ending. Until you close the circle. Call it your own. Then you can say you found your way home. Angela Minard

I'm so very tired right now. Tired of running. Tired of hiding from myself. Hiding from bad boys who think that they are men. Boys who do bad things. Bad things to an afraid young girl. I'm just so tired. I want peace. I want to take back what was mine. My body. My soul. My life.