A Christmas Submission from Marta Sanchez

I met a friend of mine while speaking to a community near and dear to me about my experience being raped and my healing process... getting up and speaking certainly being a fundemental step for me. She was the keynote speaker, incredibly eloquent and a wonderful, gentle spirit. Very talented artist and writer, and I believe her experience is very important to hear. Her energy and strength is phenomenal and extremely inspirational. I wanted to share this, her gift, with you.

Panamanian artist Marta L. Sanchez dynamically addresses sexual violence through personal storytelling, visual art, and spoken word. To learn more visit: www.poetryandart.org

"The Day I Was Raped"

I’m usually a little reluctant to say it, but I dread Christmas. It’s approach fills me with anxiety, the nativity scenes make me uneasy, the department store music makes me want to run out of the door and/or break something, and the smell of pine trees is enough of a trigger to make me wary of the Christmas tree sale lots.

I have been trying to avoid Christmas for the last 15 years.

Ever since I was raped on Christmas Eve, on my way to church, in a town called Paraiso (meaning Paradise, or Heaven in Spanish.) Somewhere in the middle of it all, I decided that God doesn’t exist, and that if he does I don’t really care for his sense of humor.

My anger towards God did not have real staying power, but rape definitely had a drastic long-term effect on my spirituality. It changed the way I see life. It especially changed the way I look at Christmas.

With just a glance at the pictures taken the Christmas after I was raped, I can see the lie in my smile, and clearly recall what I was feeling: isolation, sadness, shock, depression, fatigue, and heartbreak. I was heartbroken to experience such a devastating way to have my trust betrayed.

And each year since, as I try to be upbeat, and go with the flow so as not to ruin the season for those around me, these feelings have flowed back, intensified and triggered by all the visual and auditory cues my body associated with that event.

Except, this year has been different… startlingly, refreshingly different. The lights actually look pretty. The Christmas trees smell familiar but are a safe distance away. The music makes me dance a little. Well some of it.

I am not sure what changed, but as we approach the anniversary of my rape, I am relieved to discover that rather than deepening anxiety, I am feeling deepening hope and gratitude.
I am grateful for Cleveland, and our growing Super Star. I am excited to be in a new town, and yet living smack in the center of a community of close friends and family. I am thrilled to be doing work that I am proud of, work that I love. And most of all, I am honored by the gentle souls in my life, the inspiration they bring just by being themselves.

So this year, rather than hiding out, or cringing through some holiday celebration I feel obligated to attend, I’m going to celebrate.

I plan to celebrate being alive, and resilient, and unafraid to trust the magical people in my life.
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I know I am not the only survivor (or person in general) that has a difficult time during the holidays. For many survivors, especially those who experienced violence near the holidays or within their homes/family, Christmas is a trigger.
If you feel yourself getting down or feeling isolated, consider reaching out to someone you trust. If you can’t think of anyone or would feel safer speaking to someone confidentially consider calling a crisis line:

The Rape Abuse and Incest National Network: 1.800.656.HOPE (4673)
National Suicide Prevention Lifeine: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
Linea Nacional de Prevención del Suicidio en Español: 1-888-628-9454

If you are looking for ways to celebrate your rape anniversary (or some other tough day) here are some of my suggestions (feel free to share some of yours).
1. Take yourself out to dinner at your favorite restaurant. 2. Have a comedy marathon (watch all your favorite comedies back to back). 3. Chocolate! 4. Exercise (salsa dancing, biking, yoga, whatever works for you). 5. Listen to music you love. 6. Read a great book. 7. Journal. 8. Volunteer. 9. Write thank you notes to the people you love. 10. Have a silly Photo Booth session with someone you love.

To Be Grateful, Is To Be Free

If I've learned anything at all...
the minute you stop being grateful, is when you're giving up your freedom.
It's alright to be mad at the world sometimes.
Hell, it makes a whole lot of sense to ask, why? Why me?
No one deserves to be hurt, assaulted, or have to deal with loss.
But that's life. I'm not talking about religion, I'm not trying
to prove or disprove fate, or destiny or anything like that.

I'm not saying anything profound here, I also realize. I'm sure anyone who's reading this has heard the saying "life isn't fair" a thousand times in their lives. I have too, and it pisses me off. Admittedly.

BUT, I've learned from my loss. I'm human though, and I continue to make mistakes. One of them, most recently is thinking I have the right to take a break from being grateful. I've experienced a great loss in my life, as many other people do. It taxes my heart, my mind and my soul in a way that I don't always know how to deal with. But for some reason I got a little reality check today. I got it, in the way that many of these checks are delivered; through my loved ones.

Truth be told it is my choice to be grateful, or not to be. Truth also, is that I am a survivor. Truth also, I am a person who's seen a lot in just over a quarter of a century. I'm also a person with a lot to learn, and hopefully a long life with which to do so ahead of me. But sometimes things get cloudy for me. My life has not been simple lately, I don't always feel I have the resources that I need in order to live comfortably. But who does?? I wake up every morning and there's a lot that I don't have. BUT, there's even more... MUCH more that I do have. I'm surrounded by a wealth of good health, an education, friends, clothes on my back, a family and partner who loves me... and a good head on my shoulders. Amongst many other things. I look around and I see countless others who are less fortunate than me, countless others that have thousands of challenges that I have never known... but they still have to face everyday. They still have to wake up in the morning and decide to keep living. There are even more people that I don't see, but I remember them... and I even feel like I know some of them. In some spiritual way, there are those I'm connected to without even knowing it, because of shared experiences. Sometimes it's just surviving, sometimes its joyful, sometimes it hurts, and sometimes it's enraging- just to live. But it is a gift. It truly is. Whether you are one to be thankful to god, or Buddha, or the earth, or just your mother and father or whoever you consider your maker... life is a gift.

I'm not just a survivor because of the trauma I have lived through. I'm a survivor because I have chosen to fight and work as hard as I have to- to be happy and live life in the way I know is right. I don't owe it to anyone, or even really to myself. Being happy isn't something that happens or doesn't happen to you- I believe being happy is a choice of action. One that doesn't always pay immediate dividends, but just as others have faith in whatever they believe in... I have faith in myself. I believe in the love I have for those around me, and in the love I work hard to maintain and grow for myself. I will survive because of the energy I decide to devote to being grateful for living, and the blessings that it carries. I decide not to be a victim of circumstance, or of the horrors I've seen. Horrible things happen to people every single moment, and while I do my best to protect myself and those I love... I can't prevent them all. I welcome the hardships with the joy, the defeat with the triumph. If I didn't have both I wouldn't be alive.

Never Leave Lonely Alone

Never leave lonely alone
Especially in those moments
a lifetime of love, slices clean like butter
and pieces of my heart slide down my chest
and burn into my stomach.

I had a habit of looking away
I used the distance as my excuse.
Now all I can do, to even think of you...
is turn inside of myself and realize you are gone.

I'm the last person in the world to stop looking
when there's even the smallest bit of light.
But I'm looking through the hourglass darkly
because the hurt is too much to fight.

...to be continued...