Well, fuck

     So I had the second appointment with the counselor at school today. I wish we met for more than just an hour; it always seems like, just when things get interesting, time is up.

     Today, we started out by simply troubleshooting possible reasons behind my new inability to present in front of people and ways to fix that.      It led to a discussion about my rape and the relationship with my rapist because, really, all roads lead to Rome in the end. One of her suggestions is that, because I'm stressed about school things, my brain is equating the stress of school and the stress of rape and responding the same to both. Even though it's unwarranted and fairly inconsequential, my brain is treating a presentation with the same amount of alarm as it did a dangerous situation. She commented that really, my rapist, my ex-best friend that he is, took away my confidence. She then asked me where my anger at my rapist was for doing that.

     That drew me up completely flat. I'm not angry at him. I never have been. I'm too busy grieving the loss of our friendship to even grieve my rape, let alone actually become angry. Understand, I don't mean I'm not angry because I'm being righteous or trying to show Christ's love or because I've moved past it into forgiveness or acceptance. I just... haven't felt angry; apparently, that's not only abnormal but unhealthy. I mentioned to her that, over the nearly 6 months since I was raped, I've repeatedly been tempted to reach out to my rapist to rekindle a friendship. I feel like, if I minimize the rape enough and press it down again, I could just have my best friend back and it would be worth it. Obviously, my logic has won out and I haven't; Christ, have I wanted to though. One of my friends pointed out that it was a pattern I'm used to with my father; no matter how many times he's left, I've always reached out and worked to draw him back. I did the same with other boys throughout my life, and now I'm trying to avoid doing it with my rapist. She suggested that, subconsciously, I'm working so hard to salvage ruined relationships because, if I can't, I'm acknowledging that I can't actually salvage my relationship with my dad. She noticed too that I'm used to the fact that the anger I've had with my father has accomplished nothing; no matter how much I yell or scream or tell him he's hurt me, nothing changes. I've brought the same thinking into processing my rapist; I'm so used to anger accomplishing nothing that I haven't felt it towards him; I've just sunk into the depression that I'm masking with schoolwork.

     What my therapist then pointed out, which left me literally speechless (well, sign-less, really, as she's Deaf) was that, when I was defending my father's neglect based on the fact that it was out of immaturity and he still loved me, the same may be true for my rapist. He may very well feel love for me, even if it's been perverted and twisted and poisonous. She was curious as to why I could so easily defend my father, who has continually neglected and emotionally abused me for nearly 20 years, but not my rapist. Needless to say, I've got lots to chew on before our appointment next Thursday. I'd love to hear all y'all's thoughts on this.