"Oh god!" It's the classic outcry of orgasm....and that's not a fluke. Sex is spiritual. Rape kills a part of your soul.
I can see the rapist's face when I was a teenager and I can feel him inside me and I can smell his dirty couch. How do I retain any sense of faith in the face of rape?
My mind wanders backwards in time to that place that is shadow and perception. I'm too young, maybe 3, to make much sense of anything. As I write this I become aroused and sick to my stomach at the same time. I don't know what the face of this rapist looks like. I have seen a picture of him, with me on his lap, but his face is blank. Yet I survived so I must have had some kind of little girl faith. Why would I not curl up and die? Why would I create these selves to protect me if I didn't have some kind of fundamental belief in things I could not at the time see (like 'hope' and 'goodness' and 'safety')? What was I saving myself for if not to redeem some small piece of my soul?
Maybe I have faith because I cannot see his face.
Sarah's Take - Dissociative Identity Disorder Unplugged: A true and raw telling of the thoughts, musings, meanderings of a woman with a Dissociative Disorder, Sarah's Take takes readers on a little ride through what most people can't really imagine.
