Those nights.

     There are times in my life lately where I feel like I am trapped. Trapped by my own mind, that is. My depression has been under control for the most part but when I am stressed, it likes to cut loose. 
     Night time is the worst for it because I sit in bed and can't help but worry. I worry about what I need to do at work the next day. I worry about my marriage issues and whether I should really follow through with the separation. I miss my child. I also think too much about anything and everything.
     But lately, something else has been bothering me so bad that is has me constantly afraid. My mind has been playing tricks on me and making me think that my rapist is lurking about and still waiting to snatched me. I have nightmares, then I will wake up and see a dark figure in my room, thinking it's him. I am always afraid that he is around every corner watching me, following me, and waiting to hurt me or my family.
     I sometimes sleep with my bedroom door open because my parents are in the room across from me and it is like a security thing. But most of the time I sleep with my door closed because I am afraid that he will come in. If anyone even lightly touches my doorknob, I am normally awake, so if he were to try, I would wake up. I also close my closet door because I want to feel safe and secure, and to know that it is only me in my room. I am safe. I am secure. I am comfortable (enough). 
     This is the fear that I have lived with. After being raped, I had to watch my back as well as my family's and my boyfriend. It's one of those things that unless you know the specifics, you cannot imagine how it is to live each day like this. Each incident is horrible enough, but whatever went on, that person has to live with it forever. It is always in the back on their mind. Some people can overcome it, some can even push it to the back of their mind and leave it there as long as possible. Others don't know how to control it. I was one of the victims who tried to put it in the back of my mind for a whole year and I got sick enough from keeping it in that I couldn't deal with that pain anymore. People deal with it differently, but I wish I could have been stronger to speak up sooner.
     I am still afraid even after seven years. The idea of what could have happened is so frightening in itself that it makes my hair stand on end. I just want to be able to help other victims through their hard times and to be a helping hand in their healing process if it truly is possible.