I’ve had a lot of time on my hands to think lately and, I think back to times when I shared my life experience with what I thought were “safe” people. When it comes to the subject of rape, it’s interesting how when it is something that is not controlled by the victim; people always lay blame on the victim, for putting themselves in dangerous situations, by, drinking too much, or, wearing a revealing outfit when in fact most of the time it has nothing to do with that. It has to do with another persons sense of entitlement to their fellow humans, body. It is the culture our society creates that somehow, if you wear the right clothing, don’t drink, go to church, do ABC, you should be ok. It’s deplorable. I remember all the times after mine how I talked myself into believing it was consensual because I was too terrified to face the truth. The truth being that my first time having sex, was not consensual, I said no, several times. The first boyfriend I ever had, raped me the first time I ever had sex. It is something that has been engrained in my mind for nearly a decade. You can do everything right, you can say no, you can try to be in control but when fight or flight hits... you can’t control how your body will react, you float off into the deepest parts of your mind and disappear. It’s interesting because a lot of my old friends know this guy, they hangout with him, shit, their probably friends with his sleazy ass. I just know it’s been weighing on my mind quite a bit lately, and, I have nothing to be ashamed of. Nor should any other victim of rape. No is no, no matter what. If you know who I’m talking about, just be weary because he’s a disgusting human being, and, also stalked me for 2 years after we broke up, we only dated 6 months. Isn’t it crazy ? The lies we tell our minds because we’re just too ashamed to admit the truth because the truth is just too much to face sometimes. It’s been 9 years, and yet there are days where I’m so disgusted with my own body that I can’t get out of bed because of this fleeting moment in my life that was stolen from me. Yet, this man probably never even has a second thought of me.
I’m just sharing this because I have so many friends who have shared in this same trauma but are too ashamed. I’ve been ashamed for so long and felt so bad making others uncomfortable that I just try not to ever mention it. There is nothing to be ashamed of. You survived, you are still here and still somehow carrying on with your life after such a soul crushing day experience. Love and light, and I’m proud of you for still going and still trying to do better for yourselves.
No more silence from me, let’s talk about it.
About the Creator
Juli Cofresi
processing through writing, and letting others know that they are not alone in what they have felt or experienced.
Sharing my journey to healing
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The Last Christmas Gift
It was a hot summer day and I was making my rounds because I worked in the activity department of the nursing facility. I went to check in with those residents who didn’t get visitors frequently or who did not leave their rooms enough. Celine was a French woman in her 90’s and she was always so sweet. I went in to see her and as usual she was seated in her wheelchair in front of her wall with a box of chocolates and a photo album. Celine was always making her rounds around the facility but as of lately she had usually been in her room and somedays she would just stare at the wall or forget where she was; Celine had Alzheimer's. That day I had the chance to sit with her and join her as she looked through her photo album. As we looked through each photo, each one held a different memory or a different funny story for her. We made it to a photo of her and her husband, it was a photo taken in the 50s in Montreal. Cecile loved her husband, they married when they were young but when Rene was in his 30s, he died of a heart attack. Celine never remarried or had children. So, with Celine’s permission and that she frequently sat in her room in front of the wall, I suggested we get one of her photo's poster size. Celine agreed and we collectively decided on this one after looking through some more photos, with her permission I held on to the picture to get it blown up, however, life happens and important things get put off for a time. Fast forward to the week of Christmas and Celine was on hospice care. I remember when I first went to see how Celine was when I found out she was on hospice that she woke up crying and clutching her chest saying it felt like she was having small heart attacks and begging me to help her, I remember how tight she clutched my hands with tears in her eyes from the pain. I went to the nurse and asked her if she would be able to ask if they could administer morphine for comfort as they do most patients on care and comfort. The nurse declined and said she was not due for her morphine for 4 hours. I explained to the nurse that she was in extreme pain and that it was causing her duress. The nurse still declined to speak with the doctor or consult anyone else to see if it could be given sooner for comfort. I then went to the charge nurse and explained what was going on with Celine and she went into the room to see her and when she came back out, she told me she would take care of it. The nurse then came in and apologized to me and said to let her know of anything else she could do to make Celine comfortable. The week of Christmas I made it a point to sit with Celine whenever I had time just so she would not feel alone, as she did not have many visitors apart from her niece. Her sisters would come to visit as frequently as they could but they also lived a ways away, and were older as well. We sat, we talked, somedays I would do her nails, massage her hands, pray with her (I am not religious in the least), and sing to her or with her and laugh. Christmas eve came around and I finally had time to get the picture we had spoken about that summer blown up poster size. I wrapped it and texted a coworker that I was at the facility so they could let me in as visiting hours ended at 8 pm. I went into the room and Celine said her usual “hello dear”. I handed her the wrapped gift and her eyes got wide “what is in here dear, such a big gift”. I watched as she tore the paper off to find the photo of her and Rene. In that moment she remembered me, her eyes were filled with tears and she said she could not believe I remembered and that I actually got the photo blown up for her. She told me it was the most thoughtful gift she’d ever gotten and asked me if she was dying. I could not answer quick enough because there was a lump in my throat that made the words sound faint, Celine then told me that she could not wait to be with Rene again, she then gave me a long hug, told me she loved me, gave me a kiss on the cheek and thanked me for always being kind to her and taking care of her and that she would miss me. Celine told me not to be sad when she died because she would be with her husband again and that was all she wanted. I hugged her one more time and then told her I would see her the day after Christmas. She responded by asking me why I was crying and who had gotten her the beautiful picture, She then showed me the picture and told me how beautiful she thought it was. I then, again, gave her another hug and tried not to cry. She thanked me for the hug and I told her I would see her the day after Christmas. My coworkers let me know that Christmas day, Celine passed away. At her funeral her sisters and her niece who by the way, was named after her aunt Celine told me they were all fighting over the picture because they loved it. I worked with her and many other residents for 3 years, every single day, even snow days (which I slept over the facility with a coworker once), we became family, and I was very lucky to know her.
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