mynamesearn

I’ve been binge-watching Law and Order lately. I don’t know why me and SA crime stories are so intertwined in this strange fascination. It’s not that I enjoy seeing what happens to the victims. In fact, I cry so hard for them. Sometimes I even have to pause and catch my breath. But I keep watching.

And while I’m watching, something deep inside me starts to stir. I realize I’m so afraid of men. Like, really afraid. I don’t even think I ever said that out loud before. What if one day I find out someone I thought was good had actually hurt someone, had done something horrible? How can we ever really know anyone? How can we trust people?

I think I like this show because it reminds me that this kind of violence is not far away from us. It’s not just something that happens on screen. It’s here. It’s around us. It’s way more common than we want to admit. I’ve experienced something like that too. Mine wasn’t as intense or dramatic as some of the girls in the show, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t matter. 

Sometimes the subtle stuff is worse, because you’re left wondering if it really even happened, or if maybe you’re just imagining it, or if you’ve just watched too many crime shows. It took me a long time to understand that it wasn’t my fault. I was seventeen. Seventeen. I thought I knew things back then, but of course I didn’t. I was supposed to be a teenager. That was all.

Maybe that’s why I keep watching these shows. They remind me of how strong I actually was to go through that alone. They remind me that I survived.

But like I said, how can we really trust people? This experience left a mark on me. It made me wonder if I’ll ever really find someone who’s genuinely good. Or what if I let someone into my life and one day I find out they’re not? That they’ve done something awful, or worse, they’ve thought about it. That idea alone makes me feel sick. Maybe that’s why I didn’t date anyone for a long time.

Even now, when I start talking to someone and things feel nice, I catch myself spiraling. They say something small, and it makes me question everything. Am I really as smart as I thought I was? Do I really know this person? Or am I just walking into something again without knowing?

Maybe I’m just in too deep with these trust issues. I know my healing journey still has a long, long way to go. I’m fully aware of that.

You know, I’ve had that dream twice now. The r*pe dream. And no, I’m not trying to be dramatic, it’s just what happened. Maybe I’m that scared deep down. Our minds do weird things when we’re scared. They play out our fears at night. And somehow, in the middle of all of this, I still love watching shows like Law and Order. It’s weird, isn’t it?

The more I watch, the more I start to notice that sometimes I try to understand the rapists too. I know that sounds messed up. But my brain wants to know why. Why would anyone do that? What kind of thinking leads to that? And then I realize some people are just wired differently. The way their minds work is just… not okay. And that thought alone is enough to mess with me. Why am I even trying to understand? Why am I drawn to this?

Maybe I’m just crazy. Maybe I’m just trying to make sense of the world. Maybe I’m just trying to survive it. Or maybe I’m a Libra moon (astrologically speaking) so I crave justice for the victims. The Libra in me just wants fairness, balance, and peace, and life rarely gives us that. 

So watching these kinds of shows feels kind of satisfying. People get what they deserve sometimes, and it fills my fire. It makes me feel like maybe somewhere, somehow, the scales can be balanced. Even if it’s just fiction.

But I keep wondering. Will I ever find the love of my life? Someone truly safe? Or am I always going to be questioning everyone? Will I ever be able to fully trust someone? It’s hard to say. Sometimes it feels like a sick joke that these things even happen at all.

But I also realized something else. I don’t have to spend my life wondering about everything. I know who I am. And I know I’m good enough to be surrounded by good people. I’ve survived so much already. I trust me. I believe I’ll attract people who match that.

Maybe it’s just the age I’m at. Maybe overthinking everything is just part of being in your twenties when you’re not a kid anymore but you’re also not fully grown in the way society expects. You’re just in this weird, floaty place where everything feels both urgent and uncertain.

And yeah, maybe some of the things I worry about won’t matter in five years. Maybe they’ll fade. But right now, they do matter. They sit with me. They visit me at night. They shape how I see the world.

And even if it’s all a waste of time, the wondering, the overanalyzing, the constant asking “what if”, I still do it. Because in a way, it helps me connect the dots. It helps me slow down and pay attention to who I am, where I’ve been, and who I’m becoming. Sometimes it’s actually kind of fun to figure myself out through writing. Like putting puzzle pieces together without a picture to guide me. This, right here, is my way of understanding myself. 

What happened to me doesn’t define me. It shaped me, sure, but it’s not my whole story. I’m still writing that part. I get to decide who I want to be, not based on what others have done to me, but based on who I choose to be. I get to choose the people I let into my life, the energy I allow, the love I give and receive. That’s my power. Maybe the most powerful thing of all is that I still believe in goodness, even after everything.

So yeah, sorry if all of this is a bit heavy or disturbing. But this is me. This is my brain, my heart, my healing, laid out in words. If you’ve read this far, thank you for sitting with me in it.

I hope something here made you feel seen. And I hope you have a really beautiful day. Or night. Or whatever moment you’re in. xx