Ch. 19 Thoughts & Prayers
When It’s Over, It’s Never Really Over
When my friends, extended family and family friends heard about what happened, many of them sent flowers and cards to my mom’s apartment. After coming back from the nightmare of the attack and the legal proceedings that followed, it was so nice to be back in Rhode Island. When I walked into mom’s apartment, I didn’t expect to see all of that. Instead of being upset that so many people knew or feeling overwhelmed by all of the attention, it was actually a huge comfort. People knew what I was going through, so there were that many people I didn’t have to tell myself. I had also received piles of handwritten notes from friends at NYU, and along with the cards that came attached to flowers and teddy bears, I must have read them all a hundred times. I remember going from bouquet to bouquet, staring at the well-wishes and signatures. All these people showing they were thinking of me. Amid all the emotions I was going through, this time, the reason tears were falling was not just through sadness, but a little happiness, too.
I’m telling you this because even though you may be worried that it’s silly to send things like flowers, cards, or even a small “Guardian Angel” figurine like one family friend sent, amidst such a life-altering traumatic event, it’s not. It was the perfect way to know that I had so much love in my life, but in the perfectly unobtrusive way that I needed at the time. They were the only overwhelming display of love that I could possibly handle at the time. And even though I felt very alone in the world, being surrounded by loving gestures from people who care was very welcome company.
As time went on and flowers wilted, I collected all the notes and cards and letters and put them together in a box that I still take out and read to this day. Though I don’t hear from some of those people who were there for me then, it will always mean something to me. As life continues to move on, I will remember them forever.
These tangible symbols of love were all I needed at that moment, but as time went on, so did other people’s lives. For many family and friends, it seemed like they had done their job, and I didn’t really hear from them again. When I would see them, even just a month or so after, the topic had clearly become taboo, and not a mention of it was ever made in front of me. It was startling to me as I was still so deep in it all, triggers and nightmares and sitting down in my dark pit only pretending to have crawled out. Every person I knew, chatting with them was like coming out of the pit for some air, only to find it suffocating, leaving me desperate to go back down.
When the flowers had died and the sentiments were boxed up, I think I may have felt a bit abandoned. Although I wasn’t ready to really open up to people, I realized that there are things people in my life could have done that I do believe would have helped, so I hope they may do the same for any person going through something similar.
Don’t be scared to ask us how we’re doing. I read your card, I know you know what happened to me and I hear the other side of the phone conversations with my parents all the time. I’m not saying you can’t talk about how I am with my family, of course you can. But I won’t bite if you talk to me, too. The worst reaction I can muster to you is silence or a loaded but terse answer like, “Fine, I guess”.
Try not to treat us like cracked glass. When you said that I was strong in your note, it meant a lot to me. And it would help if you treated me that way. I am broken, but I won’t shatter. At least not until later. You may even make me feel like my old self again, even for a second.
You can still hug me. This is of course extremely subjective, and you should never assume someone is okay with being touched without asking first. But in my experience, there was something so comforting in hugging someone who I’d hugged so many times before. The way they smell, the memories they invoke, the welcome notion that touch can be safe and beautiful.
Please be patient, friends. The only thing I am sure of is that I became a different person after my attack. I was lucky enough to have a couple of friends that stood by me through it all, and not just next to me, but with me. Although I was a functioning person, I always felt alone. It would have maybe helped if I had opened up more, but I also didn’t know how to really. I guess the only advice I’d want to give you is to try to be there for your friend through all of this. Whether they’ve been assaulted or have opened up about abuse to you, the best thing you can do is stick by their side, don’t be afraid when they’re acting like a basket case, and every so often ask them how they’re feeling that day. It helps if you have a scale of 1–10. They don’t need to give you details about why they are feeling a certain number, but it helps you both to know. Eventually, you can figure out why they’re at that number, and hopefully talk it through even. We won’t want to talk a lot of the time, but every so often, we may burst into tears. Don’t worry if you can’t understand what we’re saying, it’s not what we’ll remember. We will remember your hug, and that you didn’t let go.
