Hi fellow followers...to
the few that may be out there! It's been a while since I've written, but I am
back as well as my twin sister, so I hope you continue following and reading
about our lives! We hope to revamp soon to include a vlog and youtube channel,
but for now...I hope you will read :)
I wanted to write about something
that I haven't been able to speak about without being cryptic or ashamed. And
while the embarrassment is still there, the experience I have had with sharing
my story publicly and the impact that it can have on just one person has given
me some courage to share in moderation with those who may need to hear they are
not alone.
There was a small fire
sparked within me last night that I never saw coming. I have been on a work
trip with a fellow co-worker, male co-worker to be exact. This man is fun, and
exciting and completely chill. The kind of person that you just want to be around
all of the time because of his outlook on life and the love that he has for
all. I am not relaxed around the opposite gender and would never use those
words in the same sentence, especially if I do not know them. I am generally
always on edge, and anticipating their next move. However, with this gentleman,
I was able to be myself and share things I never expected to share.
The drive to the airport Monday morning was full
of anxiety. To the point I was in tears the whole way there. Since I was traveling
when I received the news that my sister died, I haven't been able to go
anywhere without feeling like I am going to explode into a million pieces. The
added stress of meeting up with a fellow male co-worker, whom was much larger and older, and spending the time
alone in the same hotel was enough to make me vomit. We planned to meet at the
baggage claim as our flights arrived at the same time - or so that was the
plan. I board the first flight with expectations of turbulence because of the
wind, but was not expecting the drops and jolts this flight so kindly provided.
I was white knuckled the entire flight.
My second flight arrived
to our destination but his was delayed by an hour. I still waited in
anticipation for him. I walked around the baggage claim, gathered my belongings
and went on the hunt for some coffee. With my luggage dragging behind me, I
made my way up the escalators and found Caribou Coffee, but opted for an
unsweetened green iced tea since the baileys and coffee I had on the plane
added to my nausea. I was pacing up and down the airport for what felt like an
eternity. My co-worker finally arrived and after a few exchanges via text, we
were face-to-face in the baggage area. I had met him before...just once...seven
months ago in a group of people so I didn't truly know him. He greeted me and
we walked outside to head to the hotel. I did not say much. My anxiety was at
an all-time high...my stomach was doing somersaults and I was for sure about to
vomit up the spiked coffee I had for free on the plane. We pick up a taxi outside
and his first gesture was to put my bags in the trunk for me. I stood there not
knowing what to say. I often travel alone, and more than ninety-nine percent of
the time I do not require help. However much of a nice gesture this was, in the
back of my mind I couldn't help but think there was an ulterior motive for his
kindness. And then the thirty-minute taxi ride began. He struck up conversation
almost immediately as if we had been friends our entire lives. The ride flew by
and in no time we were at the hotel. We checked in at the front desk, and what
do you know? We were on the same floor, about four rooms apart. All of the
laughter and ease I had inside of the taxi immediately faded...he knew where I
was sleeping.
We head to the
elevators. I have my purse strapped over my shoulder, my backpack sitting on my
back and my luggage being towed in my hand, with such a tight grip that Mike
Tyson wouldn't have been able to pry it away. As we step into the elevator we
discuss meeting up in ten minutes to go grab a bite to eat. I push the button
for the 10th floor and my stomach feels like it's falling with the movement of
the elevator. My body felt heavy and I didn't know if I would make it to my
room. We walk down the hall and I purposefully take the long way so that we
reach his room first, I watch him walk in and close the door and I sprint to my
room, key in my free hand and lock the deadbolt and chain behind me. I gather
my emotions and remind myself that I am overreacting. It's okay. I close shades
on the windows, put my luggage on the ottoman at the foot of the bed and grab
my purse to head back downstairs. I wanted to make sure I was down there before
him since I didn't have my luggage and backpack to protect me. I step off of
the elevator on the first floor and walk into the lobby. I sit by the fireplace
waiting for my co-worker. He arrives and we decide to walk a few blocks to a
quaint little pub not seen on the east coast.
As we walk, I can barely
breathe, the combination of the thin, cold air piercing the inside of my nose
and lungs and my unending anxiety was getting the better of me. He starts
talking in his cool, calm, collected way and it somehow eases me. I am able to
converse back. We step inside the door and it's a dimly-lit wooden pub that had
a perfect seat near the window with a great view of 16th Street and the
Pavilion. To my delight, all of the trees were lit up with white lights. The
walkway reminded me of being in Mexico City and the flood of happiness that
coursed through my body made me forget the anxiety I was letting myself get
into. I order a cocktail, he ordered his and we started talking. Long, in-depth
talks about work, life, and our partners. This was a turning point in the short
trip for me. To be in the company of a male that genuinely cared about just
listening and talking without any inferences to sex or joking about the
possibility of taking advantage of our alone situation took me by surprise. Any
time that I have traveled, there was always such a thick layer of uncomfortability
because one of my male counterparts would feel it was acceptable to comment on
my body or joke about work affairs, or how they could get a key to my room
without me knowing. We remained in constant conversation for about two and half
hours over cocktails and soup. We paid and began our journey back to the hotel.
As we stepped outside, the cold bit our noses and hands. An audible burr came
out of our mouths that made us both start laughing. We arrived at the hotel and
headed back to our rooms taking the same route we previously did.
The next day we head to
the office to meet our new hire and spend about ten hours getting everything
set up and moving about the day. We decide to do some team building and invite
the team that resides there out to dinner. We chose this restaurant where they
serve authentic Mexican food and offer happy hour all night! We order tacos and
cocktails and have such great conversation. After dinner my co-worker and I
head back to the hotel and say goodnight. The next morning we run through the
same routine, we meet up in the lobby for breakfast and coffee, chat and eat
while reading the newspaper. As we head to the office in our Uber, we discuss
what we want to do for the night. By the time we arrive at the office, we have
poured over dozens of restaurants through Google. One of the native Coloradians
recommended this local place on 16th where those gorgeous lit trees are. We
decide that this is where we will go for the night.
We stayed later than
usual at the office and were the last two people to leave. Others had prior
commitments so it was just myself and my fellow traveler heading to dinner. We
arrive at the restaurant and are seated near a stage. We order this incredible Chile
Verde and some cocktails and continue our conversation that hadn't stopped
since the first night. After our second drink he looks at the tattoo on my arm
and continues to stare. He then looked at me and asked me if it is okay if he
says something about it because he wanted to when he saw it the first night of
our trip. I was uneasy about saying yes because although I intentionally got
this tattoo as a reminder to myself of how strong I am, I hadn't really
rehearsed what I would say if someone asked me what it stands for. He said, my
girlfriend has the same tattoo but hers is on her shoulder...he was very polite
and told me that he didn't want to pry but he understood the reason behind it
and is open to hear about my story and how I am able to function the way I do.
I took a sip of my tequila on the rocks, put it down on the table and looked
up. He was teary eyed. This 6-foot tall, muscle man of a human. My eyes started
to well with tears because I couldn't understand how this person could
empathize with me knowing that I had been through what his girlfriend had;
knowing that I had been taken advantage of, knowing that there was a
possibility for vulnerability. Instead of pressuring me to talk, he began
telling me how it made him feel when his girlfriend told him about what
happened to her. I sat there and listened so intently.
Then it happened, I just
said it. I was raped. I was sexually abused as a child and I was raped. I have
been drugged and taken advantage of. It has not been an easy recovery, but the
tattoo served as a daily reminder that I am still here. I immediately wanted to throw up. What the hell did I just say?! When I told him, the
tears in his eyes started streaming down his cheeks. Unafraid and unaware of
those who may have been looking at him. The anger that plagued him showed, not
toward me, but toward those who have hurt me. He asked for the addresses and was fighting the words coming through his teeth. He talked for a while, but I
cannot remember much after that. I had ordered another two Don Julio on the
rocks and was feeling quite numb. I was so focused on how I could tell my
co-worker the deepest secrets of my life after only spending three days with
him. I tried reasoning with myself in that he knew what the tattoo meant so I
couldn't lie and had to tell him.
As I think about it now,
it frightens me. I let my guard down, I drank, a lot, and could have ended up
in a terrible situation as I have been before. But on the positive side, I
found a place within myself that BELIEVES there is a greater good in people.
While I have always believed it, I believed with skepticism. He gave me an
opportunity to see the better side of the human race, especially those who I am
so quick to place judgment based on my biased view on them because of past
experiences. This guy bared his soul and compassion for another human being
without any expectation in return.
We walk back to the
hotel, and I am so numb from the amount of alcohol I consumed. I am coherent,
but well aware of the lack of strength I had. I tried as hard as I could to
appear normal, and it worked. He walked me to the end of the hall and watched
me walk to my room this time - from a distance. Though he wanted to make sure I
was safe, he made sure not to be right behind me, as if he knew that was a
trigger. I waved back to him and closed my door. I laid on the bed and the room
was spinning as fast as my mind. I couldn't help but think of how I was
supposed to face him tomorrow after he knew that I was really weak? Did he
think my outward display of being strong was a facade? I came down to the lobby
the next morning to face him and I was scared of it being awkward or him
feeling embarrassed, and me being so ashamed of just unleashing such intimate
details. How was he supposed to take me seriously now that he knew how
disgusting I was?
As I approach the table where he is sitting, I smile, he smiles, and
I walk to grab a cup of coffee and some fruit. I come back to the table and sit
down. He sparks up a conversation as if we never talked about it. I felt a bit
of relief. The days goes on, we work and then say our goodbyes. We head to the
airport, and just as he put my bags in the taxi the first day, he did the same
heading out to the airport. He opened my doors, carried my bags and was just
plain decent. We arrived at the airport a few hours early as we had conference
calls that we needed to be on. We sat down at this amazing restaurant where we
could watch the planes land and take off while working and grabbing a bite to
eat. Instead of going to his terminal, he came to mine and sat with me until it
was time for me to board. As they called my group number, he gave me the
biggest, unexpected hug. He whispered in my ear to remember how strong of a
woman I am, and that I am such an impeccable example of how to overcome. He
reminded me that I am proving that what happened doesn't define me. He gave me
a kiss on the cheek and said thank you for showing me your soul. And then I
boarded my flight back home with tears in my eyes.
Though this may not seem
significant to many, it impacted my soul in a way that is so difficult to
describe. It compelled me to write about it because there are so many of us
that often feel so alone and isolated because of being raped. The journey of
recovery is long, but there are facets of hope along the way. Unexpected people
can show up and remind you of the decency you once believed in within the human
race. He did just that. A kindred soul who shared themselves because they too,
believe that everyone should be loved and that everyone is good, everyone is
human. I am working on remembering that I am, too...that maybe it wasn't my
fault. That maybe I didn't ask for it. That maybe I am not weak because I
couldn't fight it...that maybe I am strong.
Thank you, my friend.
xox
