I’m up again in the middle of the night. I usually love the quiet it brings, but this past week waking up at this time has been dreadful. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts right now.
There are so many things in my life that I know should make me overwhelmingly happy. I have two beautiful, healthy, happy daughters. I got to re-marry Michael and I’m getting a second chance to make a marriage work with the love of my life. I have my own place with only my immediate family. (And I’m totally not judging anyone who has a roommate or lives with family right now. Just a few short years ago I was at a point where I needed a roommate to make ends meet.) My physical health seems to be on an upswing – the Lyme is in remission, my sugar is getting lower and lower. On a simple day to day basis, my family has all the things we need and the majority of what we want.
I usually just go with the flow, make jokes, and enjoy the little things in life. I usually want to try to lift the people around me up. I don’t feel any of that right now. I just feel an overwhelming sense of dread, anxiety, and restlessness. Sometimes there’s a little voice that comes out of nowhere and I can hear it whisper to me, “Don’t give up now. Stand up and fight back! This isn’t forever, it’s only for now.” But the rest of the time, it feels like I’m in a vast, dark ocean, and my head goes under, and I don’t even know which direction to head to come up for air. Sometimes the little voice offers comfort. Sometimes the little voice hurts, I’m tired of feeling hope. Sometimes I think it would feel better to give in to the ocean, to just go with it. There’s no lifeboat coming, and I’m just exhausting myself waiting for it. Sometimes it feels like noone even noticed I wandered off the shore and am lost at sea.
The DYFS/CPS worker told me not to give up hope, he’s 99.9% sure he can protect Connie if Andy sues to get visitation to see her, and he’s 95% sure he can protect Cassie. Those numbers don’t comfort me. I already trusted the system, believed the system worked, and it failed. My daughter won’t get justice, and her rapist is walking free – unmarked – around other children. If he was at least indicted and the jury found him not guilty, any police officer could see the indictment. I am 100% sure he’ll do this again, and some other child will go through the pain and trauma and abuse that my Connie did. I also know I won’t survive it if he gets access to Cassie and rapes her. I can’t go through this again. I almost lost myself the first time around, but I held on and fought to make life “normal” again for Connie’s sake. Something inside my broke when I learned I failed to protect Connie, and I don’t think it’ll ever be fixed. If the courts let him rape Cassie, too… I just can’t imagine it.
I’m sorry for putting this out there, I know we all have our struggles and it’s important to make others smile and not bring others down. Part of me hopes that six months from now, a year from now, I’ll be able to come back and tell others who find themselves in this situation that they can and will survive it, and how. Part of me hopes someone will read this and tell me how to survive it. Part of me wants to record this journey so others can understand, whether it’s understanding my journey or the journey of someone in a similar situation.
Whatever it is you do – say a prayer, light a candle, send energy, have a good thought – please remember my girls and me. And please remember others in situations like ours. Through this nightmare I’ve learned two horrible truths. One, the majority of reported child rapes where the child is under ten don’t make it to the court room, regardless of the evidence the prosecutor has. Two, there are apologists for rapists.
