Paralyzed

Trigger warning: sexual assault.

Recently, I received an email from Lipslut (they're a cruelty free lipstick brand with matte lipsticks in shades such as F*ck Hollywood, which I owned until it expired). They're making a new shade, a cool, deep red called F*ck Kavanaugh. It would probably look great on me, but I'm not buying it.

Lipslut wants me to be angry. I can't be. I don't have the energy.

People at school will ask me how I am; I will shrug or make a face. They'll say, "Are you okay?" and I will say, "No." What I don't or won't say is that I'm never okay, but I'm especially not okay right now.

I am a senior. I am applying to grad schools. I am applying for a Fulbright scholarship. I am in three ensembles at school and am playing a show that runs for three weeks. My senior recital is in January. I'm taking classes and studying for tests. I'm trying to stay afloat of my laundry and dirty dishes and meal planning and spending. I can't be angry, because anger will paralyze me, and I'm already paralyzed by my fear, my anxiety, my dreams in which I relive my sexual assault. I'm already paralyzed by the knowledge that I said nothing, and how many more will he hurt? I'm already paralyzed by my inability to cry and let all of this shit out of me so I can move on.

Leave me alone! I want to scream at the memories, but I don't have the voice, because I know that they'll never leave.

A few days ago my cello teacher wrote to me, "I'm so proud of your commitment and motivation." I feel like a fraud. I'm not either of those things. I act like I am on the outside, but inside I know I will never be that. I will never be the person who actually takes initiative, only the one who talks about doing so. I forget more than I remember, and I'm always at least slightly underprepared.

I can't check the word count on the mobile app and that makes me anxious.

They never asked. I tell myself no, it wasn't assault, it wasn't violent, but they never asked. I tell myself I let them. I tell myself I could have said no and I didn't. They never asked. I tell myself I said nothing, even after it was over; I made jokes about it, I acted like I was fine. Even when I was breaking up with them, that wasn't ever among the reasons. They never asked.

I don't want a reminder on my lips that Kavanaugh exists. I don't want a reminder in my bathroom cabinet of Dr. Ford's pain, and my mother's, and my own, and the pain of every survivor I have met and have yet to meet.

But now that Kavanaugh has been confirmed, maybe anger is my armor. Maybe it's my strength. Maybe it's my reason to continue existing. I don't know anymore.

I lost an earring this morning. I don't even have the energy to properly look for it. If I hadn't lost the earring, I would have had energy to eat breakfast. Now I'm swimming in disorientation.

I want to cry. I want to be angry. I want to feel something, but I'm so numb, and it's draining me until I can't get anything done. The depths of my numbness frighten me, and my fear paralyzes me. I can't.