chapter eighteen
There's Power In Vulnerability
- WARNING -
The following is intended for mature readers. This contains explicit content and may not be suitable for all readers. Reader discretion is advised.
***Note***
I shared this experience with everyone not because I wanted pity. To be honest, I hesitated to share it because I didn't want the people who know me to see me differently (as a damaged individual and a victim). I wrote this for people to understand that no matter how hard life gets, how much pain and suffering we have gone through, someone out there has gone through the same thing or even harder and have survived and grown stronger from it. Don't give up . . . understand that healing is a process and progress comes with highs and lows . . . be patient and be grateful for the good, the bad, and the ugly . . . every little thing we live through in our past has built the foundation we stand on today and will continue to play major roles in our future.
“NO!” I yelled in the top of my lungs as I tried to squirm out from his grasps. I kicked my feet back and I hit him hard! Immediately his hold of me loosened! I took advantage of his release and I managed to pry the door open and squeeze myself out of the apartment. I ran as fast as I could, up the stairs to the third floor, as far away from his basement apartment . . .
My breath . . . heavy. My legs . . . rubber. My heart . . . pounding. My body . . . sweating. My eyes . . . blurry. Everything around me seemed to be spinning in slow motion . . . there was no one around . . . I was alone . . . Scared for my life.
“OPEN UP!” I yelled with desperation, as I knocked harder on my cousin’s apartment door! “OPEN UP! BUKSAN MO ANG PINTO!!!!!! PLEEEEAAAAAASE!!!!!!!!!”
But no one was there . . .
As I continued knocking on the door my sobs were getting louder and people’s heads were popping out of their apartment door, but no one talked to me . . . no one asked me if I needed help . . . I was scared . . . barely spoke English . . . and I was alone!
I instantly gasped as I saw him standing at the other end of the hallway. I stopped knocking on the door and I ran towards the stairs opposite from him . . . I tripped . . . I looked back and he was coming closer . . . my arms were weak and heavy, but I forced myself back up . . . I made it to the stairs and ran down into the arms of an angel (a woman I didn’t know) . . . I saw kindness in her eyes, and she immediately sensed my fear and my panic. She took my hand and we ran out of the apartment block . . .
I was sobbing really loud as my feet moved as fast as I could get them to move, my arm held tight by the woman I ran into . . . We both glazed back at the apartment block as we kept running the opposite direction . . . his silhouette; tall, fearless, and threatening mine and my angel’s innocence . . .
. . . My eyes opened, my body trembling as I jolted straight up! I twisted and turned in a panic as I realized that I was in my apartment beside Buddy. Tears were rolling down my face, by body was wet from my sweat, my heart couldn’t stop pounding . . . “It was just a dream Yra! It was just a dream . . . you are safe, you are safe, you are safe . . . that was 24 years ago . . . you are safe, you are safe, you are safe!” I repeated to myself as I took several deep breaths to calm myself down. Buddy was at the end of the bed looking at me with his concerned puppy eyes. “I’m okay. It was just a nightmare.” I said to him as I managed to slow down my erratic heart. I slowly wiped the tears off my face as I fully absorbed mentally that I was at in my bed, at home, safe.
Earlier that evening BJ and I were talking on the phone and we talked about the scariest moments of our lives. I hadn’t thought or talked about my experience as a young girl for a very long time . . . It might had been over a decade since I had that same nightmare. It was my conversation that night with BJ that brought out the intense memory and part of me was glad I was able to talk about it after all these years.
BJ and I didn’t live in the same city (we did meet in the airport after all). We have been talking almost everyday on the phone for several weeks (if you consider constant laughter talking). I remember earlier that night I was lying on my bed and curled up, my cheeks and abs were hurting from laughing so much. We’ve been asking each other questions and getting to know one another all night, mostly laughing throughout. It was my turn to ask a question.
The phone went quiet, I’m in deep thought . . . “Okay, so here’s my question, it’s a intense one.” I said to him.
“Okaaaayyyyy?” he responds back.
“What is the hardest thing that you have ever gone through?” I asked.
He went silent, I can tell that he was thinking. His tone in his voice deepened and softened as he started talking. He responded wholeheartedly. “Couple years ago, my father passed away at a work accident.” The phone all of sudden went quiet for about 5 seconds.
“What happened?” I asked with sincerity in my voice.
“The bulldozer that he was driving flipped into a pool of water.” His voice cracked as he responded. I covered my mouth to mask my silent gasp. Without hesitation BJ continued talking, “what gets me so upset about it is that the accident could have been avoided. It was really, really tough for me to handle. Part of the reason why it was hard for me to break up with my recent ex-girlfriend is because she supported me through the whole thing.”
I can hear the sincerity and sadness in his voice and my heart immediately went out to him. His response is completely genuine. I could tell that he looked up to his father and it appeared that he felt guilty about breaking up with his ex-girlfriend. I was honoured that BJ felt comfortable to share something so personal with me. He was completely open and vulnerable and I admired the strength he possessed as he spoke.
Since BJ was open to share something so personal, I felt comfortable to share with him a moment that I experienced that barely any of my friends or even my extended family know.
“Well, it’s your turn to answer the same question.” BJ said to me after he had answered.
“When I was a young girl, at 8, I think, hmmm . . . I’m not sure anymore . . . I was confronted by a pedophile. He forced me to his apartment; made me face the wall; and from his shadow I saw that he was undressing . . .” I cleared my throat as I continued to talk. “I got scared and then ran to the door, he caught me as I got the door partially open. I kicked my legs back and hit him hard enough for me to escape. I think I hit him in the balls, but not sure.” I surprised that I was quite calm as I spoke. “I may have been lucky to be able to escape and run away before he did anything to me physically, but the psychological trauma didn't escape me. And because I didn't want people to think I was crazy, I suppressed the fear, anxiety, and the depression it caused until I couldn't handle it. At that point I was 18. This deeply affected my psychological well being, amplifying my insecurities and fears that I struggled with in my teenage years. The only reason that I was able to acknowledge the fears and insecurities was because of my ex-finance’s guidance throughout the early stages of our relationship.” I told BJ.
The phone went quiet again. “Oh wow, you're super strong for dealing with all that.” BJ responded. “How are you now?” He asked.
“I'm good but I wouldn’t say that I am super strong. Healing from the experience took a while and now I am really aware of my emotions, my mental state, and can handle the stress much better than I could before.” I answered.
I didn't feel any hesitation to share this with BJ because at that moment there was this sense of undeniable trust between us.
But that was not all he opened up about that night, BJ admitted that he had suffered from drug addiction and eventually, and somehow, he recognized his own downfall. He took it upon himself to remove himself from the situation and move back home to recover. A lot of people who might learn this from someone they just met and have an emotional connection with, might see his past as a red flag and may take a step back from getting to know them further. Instead I saw a brave man who recognized that his life was falling apart and even though it was tough, he had enough courage to change his life. It's an admirable trait. It is hard to admit your flaws and mistakes in life. It is harder to make the necessary steps to change to correct yourself.
It was refreshing that we both could open up about our past and not be judged! And it was also revitalizing to feel like I can finally be myself again.
There is strength in both BJ’s vulnerability and in mine. His openness to share his vulnerability took root in me. This is something I've never felt with anyone before. The more that I got to know him, the more I was connected. For someone so young, BJ endured a lifetime of life challenging experiences and I was impressed with how he handled it all.
I was starting to feel something towards him. After approximately 6 months after my break up with Jax, I was excited and nervous in all the right ways for someone that might lead to something more than friendship. You know that moment when you just think of someone and you can’t help but just smile uncontrollably? Well, that was me in a nutshell!
“The Vulnerability Paradox: It’s the first thing I look for in you, and the last thing I want you to see in me.”
REFLECTIONS / LESSONS LEARNED:
Vulnerability . . . often mistaken for weakness and naivety . . . but in reality, it is powerful.
Most often than not, we hide from vulnerability. We protect ourselves from getting hurt, disappointed, embarrassed, and for other people to think we are weak. We put up a facade to prevent our true selves, the flawed self, from being seen. We deny being vulnerable because we live in fear of not being accepted and getting heartbroken.
The truth is, being vulnerable means that you are authentic, honest, and allows the possibility of deeper connections with people and often leads to undeniable trust. When we have walls up and deny being vulnerable, we then aren’t allowing people to come into our lives and we end up preventing someone to fully trust us and create only surface connections.
Before that night, I feared to share my past experience as a victim of a pedophile with anyone because I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I didn’t want to be seen as weak. I didn’t want that horrible experience to define me. But that night when I told BJ, I finally embraced my vulnerability. Ever since that night, I found relieve in being fully myself. I found strength in myself that I’ve never knew I had. I accepted the experience gave me traumatic issues and I am imperfect. I am human after all and being flawed is part of being human. Accepting that, admitting to it, taking accountability made me stronger.
By being more comfortable to being vulnerable, I was also able to open up amazing opportunities . . . like writing this blog . . . but what I found more fulfilling is that I am able to develop deep connections with people. I am able to open up to more people and people are able to open up to me. By being vulnerable allowed me to trust more and for more people to trust me. I consider myself extremely lucky to have unbelievable connections with people. I don’t take this privilege lightly, I treasure it!
SIDE NOTE: (this has nothing to do about vulnerability in relationships/dating, but learning from my traumatic experience)
This may sound weird, but I needed to do it. I needed to understand what was going on in my attackers/pedophile’s mind. I needed to know whether it was preventable. So I read up on child molesters and pedophilia.
I can’t remember my attackers name, to be honest, I barely remember what he looked like. All I can remember is that he was tall, had a beer belly, and he was Caucasian. When I was writing this chapter last year and when I was revisiting it this year, I researched pedophilia . . . I needed to understand whether it is a moral choice to be attracted to children or is it something out of someone’s control. I wasn’t surprised with the research I found, what I was more surprised about is that I wasn’t angry or upset or scared, but I was more open minded.
Many of the articles I read indicates that pedophilia is a mental illness. Something barely anyone gets any help for. I get it; who wants to admit to someone that they have thoughts and sexual desires for a 8-year-old girl or boy . . . No one does . . . Society is quick to judge that pedophiles are horrible people, and I get the general public’s perspective too. I am not going to defend the actions of pedophiles and of my attacker, what I will say is the research I did for myself changed me in a way. I have compassion and empathy for the people who don’t have the ability to turn off those desires. Mental illness is serious, it is no joke, and often leave people to commit and do things out of their control. But it is hard to know exactly what is happening in the minds of pedophiles. Understanding minds of child molesters and pedophiles should be left up to the professional psychologists, however, I understand that the general public will make their own conclusions. My family and I certainly did when I went through the experience. There is no tangible evidence to indicate that pedophiles’ desires are out of their control, so there is still this chance that it can be a moral choice and that they are in control, which is what the general public and my family believes.
Reading those articles somehow made me empathetic towards my attacker and this empathy I feel maybe a defence mechanism so that I don’t hurt or be traumatized from it anymore . . . I don’t know . . . what I do know is that I am able to forgive someone who has affected my life so negatively to avoid being angry and scared for the rest of my life. Forgiveness has able me to live freely from the pain and the hurt. It is a possibility that I may have a different feeling if I hadn’t escaped and I was sexually assaulted . . . but we will never know. What I know now is that I choose to forgive.
However, what will remain with me forever from that experience, is remembering the feeling of intense fear; where my heart was beating so hard that it felt like it was pounding out of my chest, and where I was sweating and crying so much that I probably left a river trail as I ran up the stairs. And because of that experience I am now able to identify my fears and able to calm myself down because no matter how scared I was and how erratic my emotions were, I did not end up freezing in the middle of it all. At that young age I learned what it feels like to have your entire body and mind go on survival mode, not into a survival panic mode, but more of like ‘if this is going to happen, I am not going out without a fight’ kind of survival mode. Something that has come in handy and saved my ass several times throughout my life.
There are numerous articles and books out there about pedophile and mental illness connected to them, but these series is interesting and one of the first ones I read. Check it out if you want.
http://toronto.citynews.ca/2015/09/16/the-pedophile-next-door-the-long-road-to-rehabilitation/
Note: “BUKSAN MO ANG PINTO” = “Open the door” (Tagalog)
📖 - Brené Brown: The Power of Vulnerability: Teachings on Authenticity, Connection, & Courage by Brené Brown
🎬 - TedX: Brené Brown
🎧 - Kanye West: Stronger
FEEDBACK / COMMENTS / THOUGHTS /YOUR REFLECTION / ANSWER QUESTIONS BELOW:
Why are we afraid to be vulnerable?
How has being vulnerable worked in your favour? How has it worked against you?