Today I finally did my homework of my last sexual assualt from my ex-husband. It took me a week to finish and the first time I ran 5 miles after starting it, which I have to say will probably happen again. I wish I could say the 5 miles were a nice pace and didn’t feel like I was fleeing but it did. I felt like I was running for my life. I forced myself to draw and I wanted no part of it.
After looking at the completed picture, I am processing even more the horror, control and fear and anger that took place. I look at the picture and think did this really happen? Did I really endure this and did this really take place almost three years ago? This was the last sexual assualt and second to last assualt that took place on me. I look at this picture and I would like to hope that he can never do this to me again, but the reality is he can. I never reported and that night I held my phone like no other, but Landry was in the room. I had no escape. I thought about jumping from a second story window, but then what? I would never leave my baby with that monster. (As a side note, there is an app now available on phones that you can pay a minimal monthly fee and you just have to press it and release. It asks for a code if you are okay. And, yes, I do have this app on my phone now.)
Today I realized I could not escape that hellish night and it was not my fault. I need to say that again so maybe this time I will actually believe it. It was not my fault. You see when someone tries to suffocate you while attempting rape I can’t tell you the fear and knowing your child is two feet from you is undescribable. I still can’t put words to it. I look at this picture and see a man twice my size in weight and over a foot taller than me and he is using his body as a weapon. I am gasping for air and he has fully laid down on me. I can’t breath. I am fighting, yelling if I can in between when he decides not to compress my lungs and chest and scared to death.
In my heart I know Landry saw this horrible event, but hopefully for Landry’s sake it is repressed and will come out when Landry feels safe and free. This picture is a memory, but it does not define me. It has made me who I am today; a more compassionate and less judgemental person.
I look at this picture and so many emotions flood me, but the biggest one is how and why do the courts fail us time and time again? Why are survivors afforded no protection? Why is this the forbidden subject and why are children not protected? How many people does Landry have to tell? Oh I forgot to mention, Landry has only told “professionals” about daddy not being safe or hurting mommy. Landry has only told 3 family members and one friend what daddy has done to Landry so it must not be true. I don’t understand it even when evaluations show personality disorders. Personality disorders that coupled with alcholism are the perfect storm for this to happen. Just like my drawing is the perfect storm. A storm of hell, ice, fire and breathlessness the courts are even worse for victims and survivors.