I hadn't thought of the rape in a long time, since getting a fragile peace in April of 2009 from my good friend that was mixed up in the whole mess. Making sure he knew the whole story was important to me in 2009 (click here to see why).
In 2014, I have been talking more about the fact that I was raped. I do not want to talk about the rape. I do not want to talk about it with my therapist. I do not want to talk about it with my husband. I do not want to talk about it with anybody.
But since I mentioned it, I have had three separate people contact me and tell me that they also had been raped, sexually abused, or otherwise tortured. I had no idea how prevalent it was, how many unspoken stories there are.
And I wonder if it is time for me to talk about it.
I have no idea how many people read this blog, and I'm under no illusion that it's a staggering number. I don't want to write a piece about rape that nobody will read, but by the same token I don't want to write about this traumatic event and have people read it just because it's got a buzzword.
I will tell you one thing about my rape. I had to have part of my body surgically repaired. Remember that hemorrhoid surgery? Yeah, not a bad cover story...my mother didn't even know. So it's a bit gory.
In therapy, they are trying to make me do a play-by-play. I don't want to talk about it. I want to forget about it.
But that's not possible.
Writing has always been a better medium for me.
My story is a lesson in stupidity (don't ever put your drink down, even for a second), but it's also a lesson in pain and the long lasting effects of such a trauma.
One thing I've learned in the past few months is that I am still impacted by that event. It has, in many ways, shaped my adult life.
But is it worth sharing?
I'm not sure ...