What was I thinking?

None of this makes sense - at least to me.
There was a period of time where, during the dealing and acceptance of the rape, that I grieved for my rapist. Stupid right?

My rape (holy cow - it has taken me a LOOONNNGGGG time to say that) was very complex. There was nothing simple about it. I don't mean to belittle anyone else who has ever been raped or abused saying theirs was not as bad as mine - because no matter how bad it was - whether it was simple or not - to that person - it's lifechangingly bad.

My rapist was a sadist as well. He found arousal in the punishment and release in the sex itself. Mind games were huge with him - and I unknowingly fell right into my role as I was supposed to in his stupid plan.

Since he was so calculated in his actions - he had two sides. There was a sweet, attractive, funny man - who at times I desired to kiss. He was a protector. He saved me from the other man ... the asshole. The asshole was just that - an asshole. He was cruel and calculating and lived for the snap of his belt. Sex with him was not enjoyable - it was torture.

During the rape, there were many times where I longed for the sweet man to emerge and save me - and several times - he did. I fell in love with him. Stockholm syndrome - or so I've been told. Even years after, while replaying all of the horriffic clips in my head, I missed the sweet man. I felt as though my heart had been broken. To this day, I don't completely understand this.

Through therapy and long talks with a friend, I have managed to accept the reality. The sweet man was an illusion. He never existed. He was an act - and I bought a front row seat to the show.

I often feel foolish when I think back on my feelings through this point. I think of myself as a smart person - someone who is not easily fooled and a pretty good reader of people. Boy - I really read him wrong!

I'm not the stupid, scared, naive little girl anymore. I am a mother and a wife and a friend ... but down deep inside, that scared little girl still resides.

I am proud of the progress I have made and continue to make. It is all a part of my story - one that someday may be told to the world. It has made me who I am today - flaws and all.