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I�m having a huge amount of trouble reconciling myself with the other night, with what I was writing about yesterday.
The whole time I�ve been doing this training, I�ve left our meetings with a sense of hope, a feeling of pride in the fact that we�re working to make the horrible statistics a little less horrible. I haven�t cared that I�ve been tired from the late nights. I�ve not once felt like I just wanted to go home instead of heading to the BARCC offices. I�ve talked excitedly to my family and friends about what I�ve learned and what I�m going to do with all that information.
Monday night, I came home feeling icky. My training and my personal life had collided and left me reeling from the force of the impact. I didn�t sleep well. Tuesday, I got up and came to work, still sorting it all out in my head. Last night, I went to our training feeling weighted down. We talked about suicidality and working with teens, including our responsibilities around mandated reporting. My head was only half there.
When I got home, the Boyfriend was in my living room. All I wanted to do was curl up on the couch with his arms around me and fall asleep. He asked me what was bothering me, and the whole story tumbled out in a rush. I think I made his head spin.
One of the things I didn�t mention here yesterday is that in talking to Chris the other night, I made a comment about myself personally in regard to our training that he questioned, which led me to telling him the story of Lorne. Chris is the first person I�ve spoken the story out loud to in years. I was amazed at the flatness of my voice as the words came out.
I am struggling with the fact that Monday night�s discussion left me feeling fairly hopeless. Like there�s little to no point in having learned what we�ve learned, or in doing what we�ll be doing. Like we�re facing an insurmountable wall with toothpicks to aid us in climbing over.
I know that going to the police and turning in her attacker is not only a horrific idea for many rape survivors, but also not a good one in many cases. And yet, I don�t see how things will get better until more women speak out.
And maybe the role of the Center isn�t to try to improve the statistics, but instead to try and help those survivors with surviving. With more than surviving�with finding ways to have good and happy lives post-attack.
I see where that�s the role of the hotline counselor, and the role of the medical advocate. But as a public educator, how can I go out and talk to people about educating themselves and being aware, when right now I don�t feel like being aware will accomplish anything?
I also know that I�m exhausted right now. The training has worn me out. Last night, I was so tired I hit stupid. Today, I�m not much better. My brain is no longer working at its full capacity. It�s on overload.
Thursday is our last full night of training as a group. This is probably a good thing.
Perhaps a few days off will give me the perspective I�m having trouble claiming right now.
I can hope, anyway.
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