The Sturgeon Moon – Projection Caused by Rape Trauma

It is like something was taken away from you, something that you were not wanting to give in the first place, especially to the culprit. I couldn’t identify the void, the loss of something, but what was it? What was this feeling that is brewing deep within? All I knew was that I was numb, jaded and confused the subsequent days after the robbery. He crushed my dignity, impugned upon my pride and like an animal, tore down my individual sense of power.

Cut me open and bleed me out…

The first few days after the incident, everything was tossed up in the air. I was in denial, or more like everything had not settled in yet, I couldn’t quite make it out. Such a loss of awareness, as if I was taken out of the life I had been living and then all of a sudden thrown into someone else’s life. Have you ever felt like you were just roaming the earth with no direction, no purpose, no real grasp of reality and all you can do is just keep walking even though you don’t even know where you’re walking to?

I couldn’t go home because my parents wouldn’t understand and my sister is all the way in New York. I had no real confidants because they were never real friends to begin with; most of me just didn’t want to burden them with my problems, they had lives of their own. I never really had a place to call home; I never felt so alone.

Yesterday (8/08/06), I felt this unbearable drape over me. All the inner turmoil that was boiling within had finally leaked out onto my physical senses. I was sitting in my car in the parking lot in front of Chaucer’s Books on Las Positas and State. I had called two shelters in hopes of finding a place to crash for the night because although my friend May ensures me not to worry about overstaying my welcome at her place, my psyche always prevents me from taking what I think is too much; remnants of childhood trauma. There was no way I could handle crashing at my place, not with him there. The other day I went down to the kitchen after he had left for work, and I could smell his cologne. His scent gives me a quivering tension that tugs and pulls deep within my soul not to mention it makes me want to just vomit. That house and the reverberations that are now living in the walls, the impalpable images of that day, the day he took something away.

It was getting darker and I became restless, so I went on a drive. I started heading down South on the 101. The night was lit with a Sturgeon Moon; the moon’s rays beautifully graced the surface of the ocean with all its energy. As I kept driving, I could not help but see that the moon had a face; such agony looking at the dark sky. He looked so small, not necessarily in physical size but in his stature of emotional development, like he was insecure. He was desperately seeking help, trying to give a message to his observers. He looked so tormented. I saw his lips moving but I could not make out what he was saying. So I kept pacing on the 101, trying to get closer to him, hoping to hear his cries. He kept floating over the ocean, across the freeway, over the mountains of La Conchita and then back over the water again. This chase lasted all the way to Ventura, the next county over. To this day, I wonder what he was trying to say. Why did he appear that night? What was the significance? I wish I could have helped him, we could have a solace of support for each other.

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