Story #2. Scars (Part One)
By Pam Covarrubias | Creator of Spread Ideas Move People
Kintsugi is the Japanese art of mending broken pottery with gold. I believe the same thing happens with our scars, whether physical or emotional. Once they heal, they become these beautiful imperfections that are a constant reminder of how strong we are.
Some years ago, I was wearing my favorite go-to outfit. I felt sexy, fearless and beautiful. We arranged to have dinner and met at a mall parking lot, it was a nice fall evening. As I got out of my car to greet him, I could feel the crisp air touching my face. I could smell his cologne impregnated in my clothes as he hugged me hello.
After a delicious colorful dinner, we decided to head over to the arcade that was near the restaurant. I had indulged on a couple of alcoholic beverages. This is when my memories start getting cloudy. I remember him handing me more drinks regardless of my answers. All he could say was “You’ll be fine.”
When we decided to head out, the earlier breeze became a cold dark night. The moment the cold air hit my face I realized I was far away from home and with a man I had only met once. But, He… was… safe… I thought, he knows my friends and.... At that moment when the night welcomed my presence I started blaming myself for what was happening. After all, I got drunk, I agreed to meet him, I made that choice.
I asked him to drop me off at my car so I could sleep there for a couple of hours until I was sober enough to drive. He declined. I asked where he was headed and he again said “You’ll be fine.” I remember arriving at the lonely hotel, walking into the lobby. I was tired, disoriented and all I wanted was to go to sleep, get sober and go home. The elevator doors opened and I quietly walked into to the room I don’t want to be here I thought. He immediately headed to the bed where he proceeded to remove his clothes. I… I just want to sleep. I can sleep on the couch, I said. “Oh come on, you’ll be fine, just lay here.”
Full of fear, I headed to the end of the bed where I sat. He tried to kiss me and take my clothes off. I don’t want to do anything, I just want to sleep please! Please no! Please stop! The words that came out of my mouth did not matter. All I could hear was “You’ll be fine.” I am not fine! Eventually I became exhausted of fighting, of begging him to stop. I consented. But did I really?