How to Forgive the Unforgivable

i can count on one hand

the amount of times my life has been

broken down into seconds

where i consciously remember counting to

escape the reality i was experiencing

but at some point those seconds became

minutes

became hours became days stuck in this

perpetual state of counting

as a distraction but for what

when i was 18 years old i saved up

enough money to go on my first study

abroad trip

madrid i had been studying spanish in

school for years

learning about their language and

culture i had prepared myself for

everything i thought that summer could

throw at me

i even remember having a four block

radius street map

printed out in a folder waiting to be

used it never was

and then a week after i arrived just a

few days before my 19th birthday

i was rudely awakened to my own naivete

lost without a map to find my way back

to it

16 minutes that is how long it lasted

how long he held me there before i was

able to leave

16 minutes that would end up defining

the next two years of my life

i’m sometimes asked what i thought about

during that time

i remember thinking about the word no i

remember pausing to wonder

if i was mispronouncing it if even in my

broken spanish

i had forgotten how the word felt in my

mouth

i remember the word rape survivor

feeling homeless

in my mind thought they could never fit

in my hands

i did not know how to hold the weight of

that noun

i knew rape the way most of you know it

a story

a narrative that excludes men from the

title

survivor what was happening to me

while contradictory didn’t feel real

five hours how long i waited in one

hospital

before being told we can’t treat you

here

try somewhere else with the crime scene

sitting in a plastic bag against my feet

the employees staring and whispering in

spanish i

waited for five hours to be referred to

a different hospital

there four hands examined me two police

officers asked for my statement three

different medications prescribed

come back in six weeks twelve metro

stops

two connections class at three that day

my life broke

into a segmented chunk of numbers

only two counselors available one speaks

english 45 minutes away

it was easily digestible counting

when i met with them they told me i’ve

never met with a male survivor

before and i retreated into the

self-proclaimed feeling

of being first when i returned to the

united states i was met with the same

foreign idea

the global prescription that men could

not

would not be survivors three words

followed me through my search for

support

for women only a disheartening sentence

i got accustomed to repeating in my head

for women only support groups

counseling sessions resources i had

found my way into an area

i was not welcome forced to navigate it

alone

it’s been over two years since i was

sexually assaulted

for most of those two years i counted

number of days since it happened i was

living on a man-made timeline

living a life that started on that

street in madrid

my perception of life revolved around

how far i could get away from that

street

counting reassured me every day that i

was distancing myself

but the healing did not start until i

stopped counting

until i reflected back on those two

years and i started to forgive

after spain i became reclusive a shell

of a former self

i did not recognize anymore i struggled

with basic tasks

eating sleeping showering my grades fell

i distanced myself from my friend groups

stopped going to class

trauma i learned does not rest when you

need it to

and i can only distract myself for so

long before it inevitably woke up

and it did and when it did i was forced

to face the fact

that my whole life the i what i had

planned for myself

who i had pictured becoming had been

distorted

as your reflection does in disturbed

water

the road map i had clung to shredded now

i had to look at myself in the mirror

and get to know the stranger that was

now

inhabiting my body carrying me through

the banality of every day

blame took over my thoughts blaming

myself for going to spain

for taking that metro line for the

weakness of having to admit to myself

every day that i would never be the same

and that i was alone in that blame a

blame no one could take on or carry for

me

forgiveness found its way into my life

when a friend finally pointed at my

perceived weakness

and renamed it strength the idea

suddenly took on a new meaning

one that celebrated my strength for

getting out of bed rather than shaming

me for not doing it earlier

for eating something quieting the voice

in my head

that said it wasn’t enough i had to

realize

that i was holding myself to a standard

that forgot my own trauma

one that expected the perfection i had

once strived for

my forgiveness started and continued

with the redefinition of what success

looked like

i had to give myself a period of time

where society’s bare minimum was good

enough good enough was the grace i

extended to myself

that required me to love all of me but

to also see

that good enough as a coping mechanism

adopted to keep me alive

rather than as a true reflection of who

i was

who i am two police officers

asked me why i didn’t want to report

you’re letting a rapist walk the streets

freely

one friend asked to see a picture after

i disclosed what i had experienced

i wanted to see if he was attractive

they said

articles tv shows society kept accusing

me of the same thing

it doesn’t happen to guys men wouldn’t

let that happen to them

you could have fought back those words

repeated in my head

long after so much so that they became

internalized voices that i had adopted

as my own

and with that so too came the resentment

resentment not only in the extreme

responses

ones of police officers and friends

victim blaming

but of the more subtle responses a lack

of empathy from a family member

brought with it the same pain it was

resentment

that would craft elaborate stories of

why someone would never check up on me

why a friend would ask for a picture or

a police officer for a statement

they were written into my mind as

characters meant to reiterate my very

fear

that no one knew how to support much

less talk to

a male sexual assault survivor

that i was alone but i had forgotten to

humanize them

i had isolated myself from the idea that

humans

act human i expected the perfect

response

the exact words that would put my pain

into perspective

a fix it was those exact expectations

that prevented me from healing

my resentment at this humanness put up a

barrier

to forgiving these people

most importantly however i decided that

their mistakes

were from miseducation rather than spite

so i educated i went on to conduct

research abroad

as well as here at virginia tech about

sexual violence and how it impacts

academic success and financial stability

and i’m currently in the process of

starting the first collegiate

male survivor support group on the east

coast

this all to say that advocacy was my way

of showing

friends and strangers alike what i

needed

and to remind male survivors like myself

that they

are not alone to understand that no one

can read my mind

but anyone can educate themselves and

help

and finally my rapist

inevitably i found myself blindly

trusting forgiveness

it suited me until it didn’t until i had

to face the idea

that i had forgiven everyone in my life

except the one who shadowed it

the one who i found tethered to my

person

i had to let him go and it wasn’t until

recently that i learned the most

important lesson of forgiveness

forgiveness is not a loud declaration of

apologetic empathy

wrapped in cliches and guilt forgiveness

rather is a quiet humble

acknowledgment of pain one that needs no

response a monologue that needs no

rebuttal

no closure from both parties forgiveness

is selfish

because it requires you to release the

anger

and the pain and the sadness and the

good enough

for yourself and no one else

you release all of these with the hope

and the confidence

that better is waiting in the after

that you are more than the situation you

feel reduced down to

i have never forgiven the rape it was

cruel

and it took more of me away from myself

than i care to remember

but selfishly i have forgiven him

i have forgiven the idea of him

lingering in my head

i know there will always be a part of me

that will remember his face

what his room smelled like the street

address

or the background noise of news

but there is a peace that i’ve come to a

piece that knows

it will never change no matter how many

times i rewind that tape

it has been over two years since i was

sexually assaulted

and the number of days continues to go

up

but that mental clock that man-made

timeline i constructed

has changed i no longer see myself as a

before and after of my sexual assault

but rather before and after finding the

strength to forgive a shedding of my

shadow and my guilt and my shame

like winter clothing finally stepping

out into spring

and sergio my shadow

i forgive you thank you