Eye of the Tiger — Story Time

Trigger warning: story refers to rape

“I am not a victim. I am a survivor.”

This is what I kept telling myself when shaking violently whilst crying uncontrollably.

This is what I still tell myself when that buried memory comes to the forefront.

I soothe my invisible scars, two fingers on my right hand always crossed.

In a standing foetal position.

I acknowledge the silent tear.

My conscious now comforts me.

My light pierces the half cast recollection.

That was then and this is now.

I allow the present to radiate.

I will spare you the ferocious details, actually I am sparing myself.

My fragmented reality.

My once tortured soul.

I was drugged and raped.

Dressed as Alice in Wonderland.

The day following my 29th Birthday.

Wearing my once favourite mad hatter ring.

I did not know my drink would take me down the rabbit hole.

I did not know I would lose my head.

My chemically distorted consciousness recognised safety in the distance.

I did not wait for my carriage to deliver me home.

The cab slowed in traffic.

I was within the daily walk I once did from home to the tube and back.

I got out of a moving car, fell and run.

I run through the streets of East London.

I had to get away from her.

My supposed friend who had witnessed it happen to me.

I ran until I saw my front door.

My sanctuary.

36hrs vanished debilitated.

I punished myself with the luminous red blood I endured.

How could I let this this happen?

My doctor called the police.

She was the first decent person to know.

I didn’t tell my mum on the phone who was starting the 3 hour journey to bring my daughter home to me.

I did not want to cause her upset during Grandma time.

I did not want to ruin her fictional belief of my wonderful weekend child free.

I returned to work three days later.

I did not want to let go of my pre Birthday narrative.

I did not want to feel what I was feeling.

I wanted to be me.

I put on a three piece suit.

My sunglasses offered me invisibility.

I listened to Eye of the Tiger on repeat to and from work.

I was Rocky, I was going to win.

In fact I was deluded.

Fuelled by adrenaline.

I couldn’t walk outside without eating an apple.

Apples helped me to disguise the circling thoughts

I was scared of what may leave my mouth.

I became an actress.

The character I was performing was myself.

I eventually shattered.

Entranced with fear.

Consumed by anxiety.

I hibernated.

Scared of society.

The days were ruinous.

My thoughts were never ending.

My feelings tragic.

I began to heal gradually.

My daughter needed me.

I needed me.

I stopped blaming myself.

I did not let this happen.

My mum compared me to the Labi Siffre song.

With therapy and time I began to agree with her.

There was something inside so strong.

That was the song she assigned to me.

I still believe in the eye of the tiger.

I now smile when I hear the song.

I smile at my strength.

I smile at rekindling with happiness.

I smile that the past is in the past.