Psyche logo

They Were Friends of Mine

A road to healing

By Meka JoyPublished 3 years ago 18 min read
2

They Were Friends of Mine

Joy

Joy sat her car, fidgeting with the collar of her sweater as she patiently watched the clock on her dashboard. She had another ten minutes before the group started, and she took a deep breath, as her stomach fluttered with anxiety.

Relax. Nothing has even happened yet.

It’s hot in here, why is it so hot? Joy thought as she unzipped her jacket.

You’re panicking. Just stop. Group will be fine.

It’s not like she hadn’t been here before, in fact, this was going to be her third session. It was a small group, maybe like 6 to 8 women, all of varying ages. Everyone was polite, if not a bit too polite. She guessed it was because they wanted to make you feel welcome. Welcome to the group, the trauma group.

Joy laughed lowly as she rolled her eyes at the thought.

This had been her therapists idea, and at first, she thought it sounded stupid.

“Why the hell would I wanna sit around a bunch of fucked up individuals and compare stories of fucked-upness?” Joy scoffed as her therapist looked unbothered.

“Because I believe it could benefit you to be in a space where there are others who understand you.”

“I don’t need anyone to understand me! I want people to leave me the hell alone!” Joy responded.

Her therapist took a long sip of her coffee, and Joy couldn’t help but watch her intently.

She was beautiful.

Her dark skin was perfectly unblemished, and her straight hair was pulled back into an elegant bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a red skirt, the sort that swished at the slightest movement, and as the woman crossed one leg over the other, the skirt swished softly.

Joan was a good therapist. She was efficient, honest, and empathetic. She was black, cultured and her extensive knowledge of trauma and PTSD, and how it affected women of color was impeccable. Joy knew she wasn’t trying to push her, just encourage her, and the sharp rage that beat against her chest suddenly faded and was replaced by sadness.

Joy dropped her head as Joan spoke.

“You want people to leave you alone, but that’s only so you can continue to punish yourself. What happened to you was not your fault, Joy. Isolating and self-harming isn’t going to change anything, it’s only going to make it worse. It’s not like NA, it’s more emotional, and less restrictive. Yes, I’m sure there will be things that annoy you about the other members, but it really doesn’t matter. You’re there to listen, talk and heal.”

Joy bit at her lip, the thought of talking about what happened to her made her queasy.

“You don’t have to talk; you can just listen. I really think this could be good for you, and at least give you a reason to get out the house and try a normal routine again.”

“Are there men in the group?” Joy asked hesitantly.

“Not in this one, I checked.” Joan said with a soft smile.

“It’s 11:30 to 2pm. I think you can survive that, besides sometimes you get a free meal as well.” Joan winked as Joy chuckled.

“Fine...I’ll go to one session, no guarantees after that. This shit could be bogus, and weird.” Joy said as she snatched the pamphlet from off Joan’s desk and prepared to leave.

“One session.” Joan repeated as she watched the young woman leave her office.

Speak

Joy sighed, she had made it through two sessions already, and she didn’t know why today of all days she was starting to have some major regrets. The women were okay, most of them were older than her, and they were all pretty friendly. Some of their stories were familiar, and she tried her best to hold in her tears as each one spoke. At the last session, she had forced herself to remain calm as the moderator’s gaze fell on her, urging her to talk. Joy had shook her head, clamping down on her tongue so hard she could’ve drawn blood. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on her. Were they judging her? Did they think she was weird?

“Joy, would you like to tell us why you’re here?” The moderator, Stacy asked as Joy looked around the room nervously. Her chest was tight, and she felt sick to her stomach, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

“Joy, take some deep breaths okay? Remember how we discussed deep breathing and being centered in the moment. What are you feeling right now?” She asked.

Joy muttered a barely audible response, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. She did her best to relax, putting her head back a bit, and took in a deep breath in through her nose, and out through her mouth.

‘’Good job, Joy. This is a safe space, no one is here to judge you. All the women in this room are here to listen and support you.” Stacy said.

Joy knew it was time.

It had been several weeks since the incident, and her whole body seemed to be crying out, screaming for someone to hear her, for someone to know what they did to her. She had been mute through it all, her body and mind rendered numb, frozen in shock and terror. But today, today she felt ready. Today she wanted to speak.

“They…they were friends of mine.” She cautiously choked out, her voice sounding odd and hoarse.

The room was quiet, the ladies patiently waiting for her to continue.

You can do this. Speak, just speak. She told herself.

“It was my birthday weekend, I just wanted to go out and have some fun. I like to party, ya know? Like really party.” Joy said hesitantly. She scanned the room quickly, her eyes darting back and forth, and landing on Stacy. Her kind eyes urged her to go on.

“I was drinking and dancing, it’s my fault. I did way too much cocaine and I even popped some pills, it was a stupid idea, but I didn’t care.” She said, her boldness returning as she sat up straighter.

“It was my fault” She repeated.

“She wasn’t supposed to be there, that evil bitch...sorry.” Joy said, her anger returning.

“She wasn’t supposed to be with us that night, but she had the hookup and my regular dealer got locked up the day before. I was desperate; work was killing me, I hated being at home and I just wanted one night that was all about me. I deserved it, that’s what I told myself anyways. I just remember dancing, and looking sexy, and feeling great. The room spun and I was spinning with it, I didn’t care about anything other than the beat of the music, the sweaty bodies around me, the compliments and the flirting.” Joy said as she remembered the feeling.

“Everyone was so hyped up, and in a great mood. I even danced with her, Kori. She had on tight jeans and this horrible top that didn’t do anything for her figure. But for that one night, she was actually nice to me. She told me happy birthday, she brought homemade jello shots and made sure nobody aggravated me that night. I thought, that for the first time in two years, that her and I were really connecting. I didn’t even know why she didn’t like me in the first place; but it was always there. Disdain, jealousy, and resentment.” Joy said sadly.

“She hated me, but that night in that moment, we were like best friends. It was so much fun.” She said.

“Later on, most of the people there had dispersed, grabbing their lovers and running off to explore each other’s bodies. The high was overwhelming, and the alcohol made me stumble and drool. I remember feeling so off balance, my head was fuzzy and all I wanted to do was take it down for the night. I had made plans to spend the night at a friend’s house, and she and I eventually went back to her apartment. What could’ve turned into a night of sexy, sapphic fun, ended up with us both awkwardly getting into our pajamas, bumping into each other, and trying not to vomit. I remember her going and checking on her son, as he had woken up at the sound of her.” Joy said.

She gulped, trying to catch her breath as all the memories hit her at once, she felt exhausted by the story, but she had to keep speaking.

“I…I just wanted to go to sleep. I wanted to lay down, so I got a small blanket and crawled onto the couch. My head hurt and I was so exhausted…” Joy hesitated.

The tears came freely now as her hands shook violently.

“Joy, take a breath…you’re safe. You’re safe here.” Stacy’s soft voice pushed through Joy’s rushing thoughts as she tried desperately to hold onto her reality.

“I woke up to them, cause there was somebody pulling my pants down…” Joy said sadly.

“The one who put his hand over my mouth, his breath smelled old cigars and beer. I remember trying to see, but it was so dark in the room. I heard other voices, but none of them sounded like my friend” Joy cried.

“I didn’t know where she was, or what was happening, why didn’t someone…do something!?” Joy sobbed as a woman next to her handed her a tissue. She nodded a sloppy thank you as she blew her nose.

“I panicked ya know…tried the whole screaming thing, I even tried to bite him” Joy laughed miserably.

“He was strong though, smacked me so hard I thought my ears would bleed. He was able to flip me and get his elbow on the back of my neck…”Joy said as she rubbed the spot on her neck, flinching a bit.

“I ain’t no small chick, shit. But the thought of getting killed by these men scared the hell outta me” she said.

“Your homegirl Kori said it was your birthday baby girl, and that you wanted to party. Relax. We’re not here to hurt you, but if you fight me I will. It’s your birthday, we just wanna party with you.” Joy said in a whisper, repeating what he told her.

“They took turns on me, I stopped counting after four. You know how they say, you go to another place when something traumatic happens to you? Like you leave your body?” Joy asked the group as a dark woman on the other side of the table sniffled and nodded.

“It wasn’t like that, not this time anyways. It was my friend’s son Jesse’s crying that kept me from fighting, that kept me alive. He was wailing, and that’s also when I knew my friend wasn’t home. She left me there, us there. We were alone with these men inside the apartment. I just kept focusing on his cries, terrified by my own screams and the sounds of the men ransacking the place.” Joy said

“Anyways, after they were done, they robbed us. Took whatever they could outta the place, and out of my purse. I laid on the couch, trying my best to force air back into my lungs, I swear you would think I didn’t breathe the whole time they were on me. I remember jumping up and running towards the baby’s room, grabbing him out of the crib and snatching what was left of my belongings. I ran with him down the hallway, screaming at the top of my lungs.” She said.

“I must’ve knocked on five or six doors before someone in that complex opened up and let me in! I don’t know if it was the blood on me or the baby that convinced him to help me, but either way I was grateful” Joy said sadly as she quickly apologized and put her head in her hands.

Embarrassment and shame filled her as the women stared at her with a mixture of pity and empathy.

They didn’t mean it.

It was a lot.

“Joy, I’m so proud of you.” Stacy spoke up, beaming at her.

“Thank you for sharing that experience with us, I know it wasn’t easy. How do you feel?” She asked.

Joy hesitated a moment before she realized she was okay.

“I’m glad I finally said it. It’s out there now, and it’s my truth. I…I think I actually feel better.” Joy said finally.

“Silence keeps us trapped in that moment, in order to accept what happened and be able to move forward, you have to be willing to speak up about it. You went through something absolutely horrible, something no person should ever have to experience. You did what you had to do to survive, to be able to be a living testimony. There’s no shame in that, and nothing about what happened to you is any of your fault. No means no. It doesn’t matter what you wore, what you did, or what substances may or may not have been in your system. You didn’t consent, you were violated.” Stacy said firmly.

Joy nodded, doing her best to believe what she was being told.

I was set up and gang raped. It wasn’t my fault; Jesse and I are alive. It wasn’t my fault.

Scream

Three weeks later.

Joy sat quietly at group therapy, listening to another woman share about her week went. She did her best to pay attention, but her mind was elsewhere. She nibbled at her nails, biting them to the pit with anxiety. She did her best to stay present, not allow her anxiety to get the best of her. The women all took their turns, each one with something different to tell. One of them got a new dog, the other met someone online, and one of them was struggling with self-harm. There were so many different emotions in the room, and sometimes Joy would grab a piece of paper and some colored pencils from center of the table and start doodling or writing. It helped keep her focused, and not dissociate.

“Joy, how are you this week? Anything you feel like sharing?” Stacy asked as Joy gave her a startled look.

“Uh…no. Pass.” Joy said as she dropped her gaze.

“Are you sure, you look troubled?” Stacy pushed lightly.

Joy sighed, dropping the colored pencil, and crumpling the paper in her palm.

She was angry.

So angry she could feel the scream stuck in her throat and every time she opened her mouth to let it out nothing would come.

“I got my results back from the clinic.” Joy said with a miserable smile.

“Remember Joy, anything you tell us here is confidential and sacred. None of us are here to judge you.” Stacy said calmly, as she watched Joy squeeze the ball of paper in her hand repeatedly.

“Yeah well, my friends from my birthday party sent me home with a parting gift.” Joy said angrily as her vision blurred.

One of the women next to her, a kind acquaintance over the last few weeks, gently touched her wrist. Urging her to relax and let it out, as Joy allowed her to clasp her hand.

“We’re here for you Joy.” She whispered.

“I have herpes…genital herpes. They say my viral count was pretty high, and it explains pain and outbreaks I’ve been having down there.” Joy said.

She could feel it again.

The outpouring of mutual sadness, empathy, anger, and pity that flowed throughout the room. The energy centered on her, moving her to tears and she eventually broke down.

Hard, angry tears poured from her eyes.

Her whole body shook as the sobs came.

“Joy, these are you’re emotions. You’re allowed to have them, own them. This is your story, say it out loud, don’t keep the pain in. If you need to, scream!” Stacy said boldly, as she wrapped her arms around the broken young woman before her.

“This is your truth. It wasn’t your fault, what happened to you was wrong.” Stacy continued.

Joy felt ill and ashamed.

“But now I’m untouchable, I’m filthy!” Joy cried loudly.

“No one will want me now; I’ve had those monsters inside me, and I can’t them out! I can’t get them out! I’ve tried to burn them, and they won’t come out.” Joy sobbed.

It was a lot.

She continued to open up, telling them all about her self-harm and mutilation. Burning and scaring her body and genitalia. She spoke up about how alone she felt, how invisible. It was like she was stuck; stuck in that building, in that apartment and still face down on that couch. Begging and pleading for mercy, angry at herself for not doing more to stop the assault. And now, now she had this hideous virus coursing through her, and she didn’t know how to deal with it. She knew it was manageable, she knew it wasn’t deadly, at least not mortally, but perhaps socially.

She hadn’t even be able to really tell her closest friends, and her family was in just as much shock as she was. They were doing their best to deal with her trauma, to support her through her rages. Her nightmares and paranoia kept her awake, sweating and heaving, jumping at any noise and creak in the house. She had been bouncing between sleeping with her mom and sleeping in her own bed. Nothing and nowhere felt safe, no one could save her.

“Someone please help me! Help me!” Joy sobbed as the group enveloped her in love and safety.

And she let them hold her.

She let them in.

No, it didn’t take the hurt away, and it didn’t stop the fear, but it did make her feel less alone.

On her way home, Joy pulled over on the side of the road. She got out of her car, and walked into a field nearby, quickly scanning the area and making sure no one was around.

And she released it. The loud, aching, horrible sound that had been locked within her for so long.

She screamed.

Acceptance

It took a long, long time for Joy to accept what had happened to her, and the outcome. Something had changed, drastically deep inside her spirit, and she felt like a different person. Not in the physical sense, but psychologically and emotionally; the toll of being a multiple rape survivor had put her in a different space. This space, as tragic as it was, it was ultimately what saved her. The amount of work it took to grieve, accept, and heal, was more than she ever expected it to be. Waking up in the morning, looking out of her window and seeing the sun shining was different, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to feel the warmth on her skin once she got outside. In fact, she didn’t feel much of anything physically anymore. Warmth, cold, pain, or joy; she couldn’t even feel the rain when it hit her skin. Sometimes, she would stand in the rain for hours on end, soaked to the bone and feel absolutely nothing. It awed and saddened her at the same time.

She had been diagnosed with PTSD, and even though it might sound odd, the diagnosis really helped her. It had given what she was experiencing a name. It brought together everything that she had been going through, and made it make sense. She continued her process with trauma group, opening up more, learning new techniques and building more confidence. As time went on, she made more friends and tried her best to make healing her focus. She learned more about herself, her flaws and judgmental views, and how they might affect her healing process. The nightmares continued, but she eventually learned to determine the difference between her dreams and her reality. She continued to ground herself, checking locks and rooms, calling friends and family just to be sure everything was okay.

Those who knew and loved her fought with her and adapted to her new self. It wasn’t easy, and it not everyone she knew was able to go on that journey with her, but she continued forward the best way she could. She went through several setbacks, and even attempted suicide twice, the failure of these attempts took her through back and forth game of relief and spiraling. Some days she didn’t even feel like getting out of bed, her body hurt all over and she didn’t give a damn how long she had gone without a shower. She already felt filthy, so it didn’t really matter to her. But every now and then, a spark of determination and perseverance would hit her so hard, that it was almost like someone slapping her across the face, forcing her to wake up, and try again.

And she would.

She tried again, and again. Falling, and then getting back up, and time went on. She had to re-learn a lot of things, like smiling, laughing, breathing evenly, and speaking up for herself. When things got bad, and it felt like the world was crumbling, she would escape into the night, driving for as long as she needed to and finding herself a nice, lonesome spot to scream. The love and empathy of her loved ones, along with the help of the women at the trauma group, had saved her life. Being able to tell her story, to speak it out loud and own, gave her a new sense of purpose and she slowly began to heal.

This is my story and my truth, and what happened to me was wrong.

They were friends of mine, and they took advantage of me.

I didn’t deserve it, and it wasn’t my fault.

I’m no longer a victim, I’m a survivor.

coping
2

About the Creator

Meka Joy

Hey!

Welcome to my page!

I'm an African-American, Queer female, who loves nothing but writing about literally anything that comes to my mind. And I hope that by sharing my experiences, it might be able to help someone else.

Happy Reading!

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.