I'm not the most religious person and I am not walking the Camino for religious purposes, though part of it is for spirituality in a sense, of course. A journey of a thousand miles can't help but have spiritual aspects. And, as the kind police officer in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port said in the movie The Way, "You do the Camino for yourself, only for yourself."
But the reasons for myself weren't always clear. I started out by watching an episode of something on TV (Rick Steves, I think) in which the Camino was featured and I thought, "That's cool." This was a few years ago. More recently, I started thinking of it again. Don't ask me why, because I don't know. And it became one of those "I'd like to do that someday..." things that you don't really plan to do, just dream about.
And then I started thinking, why not walk the Camino? But it was still just an idea. Until this fall, when I decided I was just going to go, and as easy as that I'd made a decision. I figured out which route I'd like to take, starting farther back in France (seeing as I'm a francophile, and all). I started talking about going this summer. My parents seemed to think it was just one of those ideas still, until I bought my plane ticket.
I was going. I was determined. And I didn't know why, other than that it seemed cool. However, I've had plenty of time to reflect. I've also been working through some things with my therapist. And I finally realized why it was I felt compelled to go this summer.
I am strong. Maybe I always was, but it certainly didn't feel like it. I've had depression since I was 11 years old, though it wasn't diagnosed until about five or six years ago. I didn't feel strong at all until fairly recently. In fact, I didn't feel like I was important. I didn't bother anyone, didn't cause trouble, so no one thought to look deeper and see that I was struggling. I had to work things out on my own in middle school and high school and finally was able to get the kind of grades my parents wanted. But that was a long struggle which I think was only possible because I started blocking things out. I learned to dissociate.
I was always shy, and anything but confident in myself. So in college, when my friends in the dorm wanted to hook me up with a nerdy guy in the neighboring dorm, I said okay. That was one of the worst decisions of my life.
We only went out for about two months. Maybe less. And pretty much that whole time, I felt trapped. My new boyfriend was interested in sex. I wasn't ready. I told him as much, repeatedly, saying no any time he asked. Until one night he didn't ask.
I froze while he was raping me. It wasn't violent the way they always portray it in the movies and on TV. It didn't have to be. As soon as I realized what he was doing, I tried to say no. Except I couldn't open my mouth. I couldn't make a sound. So I tried to push him away and discovered my arms wouldn't move. I didn't understand what was going on. I looked around the room calmly, and looked at him. I didn't do anything to stop him. What I didn't realize, though, was that I couldn't. I was a prisoner in my own body.
Eventually he just stopped. As I was putting my socks and shoes on the next morning, he said maybe I should get a pregnancy test. I told him it was too soon for that, yet at the same time I thought, "Why would I need one?" I had already convinced myself that nothing had really happened.
I continued to tell myself that for six and a half years. I denied to my friends that I'd ever done anything with him. Then just before the end of my year as an English assistant in France, I got triggered. Memories and feelings rushed in. Guilt. Shame.
I still didn't really understand what had happened, even when chatting with someone on RAINN, who explained it was like a deer in the headlights reaction. Freezing.
The next school year, as I was starting to deal with what happened, I got a new boyfriend. At first he seemed like such a gentleman. But then he started to push for sex. I said no. He kept pushing. Pretty soon, to get him to back off, I said maybe. Then when I went to visit him one weekend, he took my maybe for a yes, and again I couldn't do anything to stop him. It was a little different. I just turned into a robot. But I still couldn't speak, couldn't protest.
After that disastrous school year, I decided to return to the US, where I could find the help I needed. I started seeing a therapist at the Wichita Area Sexual Assault Center (WASAC) and attended group therapy as well, all the while hiding what had happened.
After a couple years or so I decided to join eHarmony. I talked to one guy for a couple of weeks before we decided to meet in person. It didn't turn out well. I told him I wanted to take things slow, and he said okay. Then he did what he wanted to do anyway.
After he left the next morning, I went to the hospital. They called the police and I talked to a very compassionate and understanding female officer. It was the first time I reported what happened. I didn't report my first boyfriend because I couldn't accept what had happened. I didn't report the second partly for the same reason, and partly because I was in a foreign country. But with this last guy, I knew exactly what had happened. I'd told him no. So I agreed to move forward with an investigation and gave the officer the key to my house.
That's how my parents found out. My dad drove by the house while the police were there and called my mom. She showed up at the hospital. I just said I was okay. I was already dissociating. I was completely numb for a full week.
When my oldest sister called from Minnesota the next morning, telling me she'd heard or read something on the news about what happened, she asked if I was okay. I told her I was. She took that to mean that it hadn't been me in the news. I remember her saying that it would have made her very sad. I didn't have the heart to tell her it was actually me.
I've never talked to my family about what's happened. It's been hard enough talking to my therapist. Besides, what would I say? But as I said, I've been working through things. I feel stronger now, even though I'm not completely confident in my self-worth yet.
So that is why I'm doing the Camino. To prove to myself that I can, that I'm strong, that I can make it. And that I'm worth it.
As Eleanor Roosevelt said, "We gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face... We must do that which we think we cannot."
My journey started years ago, but in another couple of days, I will take that first physical step for my journey of 1,000 miles and face my fears. Except I'm not doing what I think I cannot -- I know I can, and I will succeed.
