I’m was having a moment one morning where I was remembering a day that took a piece of my heart and replaced it with cold dead steel, literally and figuratively. I can’t honestly tell you what I was doing prior to The Phone Call. Yes, I capitalize it that way because it has that much significance.
It was a moment no Mother ever wishes for, no parent for that matter, keeping in mind that I assign these terms to apply to however a reader sees fit. I’m also not at all going to apologize for the words that spring forth from my fingers as I am making no excuses for the emotions involved. This, I believe, is part of the healing process and this is part of my journey. I am the Mother of a Survivor of rape. There I said it. How does that feel to you who sees into my window?
My very being changed the day of The Phone Call. I created a person who I adore in her perfections and imperfections and it was the first time her innocence was torn away from her. You may say to your Self, “Isn’t this her story to tell?” She told me long ago she was okay with telling it, she thought she was healed and so did I. This fourteen year old child of mine created from the love of her father, Dad (yes, there is a difference), and I called me one afternoon on a hot summer day. She was at her boyfriend’s house and her voice told me all I needed to know, but my mind was in a panic. I remember the feeling very well. It felt as there was some sort of monster pacing a cage just waiting for the moment that door opened, but some other part of me told me to stand still. Does that even make sense?
I remember driving to go get her thinking the entire time, “What is about to happen?” knowing full well whatever “it” was going to change things forever. Do you know, that damn wild turkey that lies in wait down the dirt road I had to go through decided that day was a good day to attack my van? So, there I go simultaneously maintaining my cool to get my child and also trying to not run over this damn turkey who is insisting it’s mating season. (Signs of healing here with humor?). I remember the next bit quite clearly.
I went to that door and I heard the mother yelling. My daughter opened the door, I took one look at her, one look at what was going on in the house and I went to step forward and she stopped me and begged me, begged me with everything in her to “Mommy, can we please just go? Can we please, can we please just go?” I looked at my baby and I saw a beautiful freckle faced girl who had just gotten her braces in absolute devastation at what had happened to her. I looked at her and I looked back at that mother who was wandering away and hitting her 6’5″ son in the back of the head and ignoring me when I said, “What the hell has happened?” My child begged me to leave and I had to listen to her because I was filled with so much power that I’m not sure what would have happened. I know what occurred and I know how much my child was violated.
This was a moment that I knew EXACTLY just how powerful I was, Y’all. I’m not sure my daughter understands it. I’m not sure many people understand it, but I had to start turning lights out that day. I absolutely had to because it actually saved that boy’s life. Can you believe it? Make no mistake, no matter how anyone chooses to look at it, my higher Self/God/Allah/Universe/Source gave me the capability to draw to me the power to end someone’s life. I am NOT exaggerating about that. That was the beginning of change within me, I recognize it now. Ironically, I spent more time on the phone with my Mother through that, not knowing then that she, too, is a rape victim. Imagine how she must have felt hearing about her granddaughter AND what her daughter has to work mentally through. I spent three months in the house over this. Every phone conversation started with, “What good will you be in a jail cell?” I think I even told the sheriff’s deputy that I would turn myself in after it was over with. He said, “Ma’am, those are probably not the best words to use.” I had to explain to him that that’s just the kind of person I am. It was like my Higher Self had to keep checking in every single day to make sure that if I left the confines of my tiny house, that I didn’t create action towards the wrong direction.
I was trying to hold in my power so as to not destroy. It’s amazing how much we can become a magnet and pull in exactly what we need in a moment’s notice if we want it bad enough. There is nothing quite like a parent’s anger sometimes. My beloved grandmother didn’t have the strength to be me, so if one is perceptive enough, you can begin to see how it’s all entwined and we (my daughter/me/mother/grandmother) are all part of each other. I know that if I have the power to draw something to me that is the opposite of what I’m feeling, then the callous of gold can be formed. My dis-ease forming in my brain is no mistake, I was protecting myself. Now it is time to unravel it all and keep in mind that I’m not in control of how other’s feel, I’m only in control of how I feel. We are all allowed to heal in the way that feels good to us.