It is almost October; "pick up your heavy burdens and leave them at the gate"

 

poem by Kate Baer

Last night I dreamt that I was standing in a small, metal shack at the edge of a wood. My boyfriend was with me and we were talking to some people outside the shack. They were telling me to take what I remembered and could carry. 

This shack was piled with things. Some things are items I previously owned, but many of the items were odd and things I don't remember ever seeing. However, in this dream, I exclaimed that I remembered each object and I was sad I had to throw it away and so glad it came back to me. 

A bust of Fitzwilliam Darcy. A large wrought iron horse. Strands of beaded necklaces and vintage rings. A broken record player. Books. Stacks of Halloween and Christmas decorations. Chipped mixing bowls and crocheted blankets. I was making small piles of things I wanted to take back with me and explaining to my boyfriend all of the things and what they meant. 

I started to remember why I threw all of these small things away. A lack of room. There was no space for everything. 

Then a small voice said, don't forget you've been raped three times. 

I was really angry. I've only been raped twice. What a stupid sentence to type. Twice isn't as bad as three times. The small voice said that there was a time between the two times I remember.

I pushed the piles together and covered them with a tarp and tucked in the corners. Then I left the shack and took nothing with me. 

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I know why I had this dream; each dream element is woven in with some glamour of reality. My kids and I watched Labyrinth on Friday night and there is the part with the old woman piling Sarah with all of her belongings. I've recently decided to start thrifting for clothing again and I've been meandering through Thrifttok (yes, that's a thing.) October is the anniversary of being assaulted and that is weighing heavy on my mind, my heart, my body. All of this has mixed in to make this patchwork of a dream. Reader, I have not been raped three times. That is my fear talking. My fear that it will happen again. I will never feel completely safe. I am not the only woman to have this fear. 

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There was a whole lot of good happening last October. I saw Explosions in the Sky. I went on long mountain drives and brought home pumpkins and buckets of mums. I baked coffeecakes and read poems. I had plenty of time with friends and my children flourished. 

Then there was the not-good. I was assaulted and the following six weeks were utter hell. Having the rape kit done was traumatic. Filing the police report was traumatic. Obtaining an ex parte order, questioning from the detective, and court session for the order of protection was traumatic. I moved within the space of a week. My divorce finalized. My cat died. Late October through November was filled with grief and fear.

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I'm having some mental health issues: nightmares, anxiety attacks in the middle of the night, intrusive thoughts, and a host of body image issues. The two men who assaulted me (May 1999, October 2019) have something in common besides being complete pieces of shit. They both made fun of my body and my size during the assault. That will fuck a person up. I don't think anyone would expect me to walk away from that without some trauma.

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HOWEVER, I am pissed off and stubborn as hell. I have some plans to not only cope, but to reclaim my favorite season of the year. I am going to leave these heavy burdens at the gate. I'm going to live my life and seek joy and contentment. I plan on doing lots of reading, baking, and Halloween crafting. I'm going on a date in my recently reclaimed favorite dress. My boyfriend is going to stay with me on the anniversary of the assault and we're going to attempt to be as cozy as possible. I quit Weight Watchers and I'm working with an app for folks with eating disorders. I'll go to Zumba as often as possible. In October, I'm going to take an outfit picture each day. Putting on clothes that make me feel good and taking a picture of my outfit has been instrumental in helping my body image issues. It feels brave, even though it is a small action. I'll carve pumpkins and find some armfuls of mums.