The Invisible Me

I casually mentioned to her that I had lost almost fifty pounds once. She looked me up and down and told me that it was time to get back to work. I neglected to tell her that I had practically starved myself; hit the gym twice a day, everyday for over a year; that I had paid the ultimate price; that I had in some strange sense, chosen to go back to the fat me. The invisible me.

I had been working for months to lose the weight, and almost overnight, everyone it seems had noticed. Suddenly the women at the bank would greet me with huge hellos, family members would proclaim how good I looked. Boys began flirting with me and men started coming onto me. I felt stranger's eyes on my body where I had never felt them before. It was a new, somewhat uncomfortable, but mildly exciting feeling.

That fall I was sent on a business trip for three weeks of training. We were in classes eight hours a day and were tested each morning on the material covered the previous day. The outcome of the training would in large part determine the outcome of our careers. Performing poorly on these tests was not an option. If you failed one exam, you were sent home. You could go no further in the training and no further up the proverbial corporate ladder.

With the pressure to succeed very high we formed study groups to help each other learn the day's materials. My particular study group consisted of myself, a woman from Houston Texas, a Colombian woman who lived in Boston and a young Christian named Jason. After we got out of class each day we would take turns going to each other's hotel room to study. When it was our turn to play host we would take it upon ourselves to order dinner for the whole group. In this way, we were able to make the daily allotment on our company credit cards stretch further.

One afternoon about half way through the three weeks it was the Christian's turn to host the study session and when I got to his room, I realized that I was the first of the women to arrive. He then informed me that the Colombian woman had failed that morning's exam and was still at the training facility. The staff liked her and so was trying to determine if she had failed the test because of a language barrier or because she in fact did not know the material. They brought in a Spanish interpreter to administer the exam in her native tongue. If she could pass it in Spanish she would get to stay. If she failed again, she would go home.

Now aware that she obviously wouldn't be making the study session that evening I decided to phone the other woman to see what was keeping her. When she picked up on the other end I could tell from her tone of voice that she wasn't feeling well. Apparently, something she ate earlier in the day had made her ill and she informed me that she was not going to be able to study with us.

When I explained to Jason that the other woman wasn't coming either he smiled softly and said, "Finally, I have you all to myself." He had been innocently flirting with me for a few days and I wasn't in the least bit concerned about his comment as I assumed it was all in good fun. After all he was a Christian. He wasn't one of those people who call themselves a believer, but live like everyone else. As far as I could tell he was the real thing. He had an amazing testimony of what God had done for him. Out of eighty participants in the training he was the only one to make sure to reserve a company van for each Sunday and mid-week service he planned to attend at a church in the area. Perhaps somewhat naively, It never occurred to me that I might be in danger. He still seemed the perfect gentleman as he got up and sat next to me on the bed. We made awkward conversation for a minute or two and then he leaned in and kissed me. I was a little taken aback, but I enjoyed it.

Faster than I can comprehend how it happened, he was instantly on top of me. Suddenly, it wasn't fun anymore and I felt panic sweep over me. His hands, it seemed were immediately everywhere. At first I tried to calmly tell him to "slow down." "Please slow down". He acted as if he didn't hear me. He began frantically trying to unbutton my pants. Now, with more determination, I said, "SLOW DOWN!" He ignored me. Then I started saying, "No, please don't." Then I was begging, "Stop! Don't do this, please don't!" As I was yelling, "NO!" he somehow pinned my arms underneath my body, his knees digging into my thighs and put his hand over my mouth and nose. I couldn't breathe! With his free hand he somehow managed to pull my pants down. I was fighting, but I am 4'11", he was 6'4" and built like a Mack truck. And I couldn't breathe! That is when I realized that if I stopped fighting it, it might go quicker.

At that moment I recognized just how separate mind and body really are. I had made the conscious decision to stop fighting and yet it took a few seconds to become aware that my body was still violently twisting, turning, kicking; trying to get free of him. I could no longer think of what was happening to me, I could only think about one thing; I need oxygen! If I don't get oxygen, I am going to die. My whole body was desperately fighting for it. I have never experienced a more real, more painful, or more frightening feeling. Getting oxygen was my only task. Nothing else mattered. I couldn't think about the pain between my legs, or the man on top of me, I could only think about my need to breathe! I tried to shift under his weight, but his hand was pressing so hard down on my face, I actually thought he might break my jaw. I couldn't even part my lips, let alone gasp for air. Life saving air. The need for air became so great that my limbs went numb. At one point I had freed one of my hands and was trying to grasp at the bed to shift my body when I felt all the strength go from my arm. My hand was clenching the blanket and it literally just stopped clenching. It opened weakly and then there was no strength to even hold onto the blanket, let alone fend off my attacker. I have never been so desperate for anything as I was at that moment for oxygen. Then the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced occurred. I lost my eyesight. I had my eyes wide open and yet my peripheral vision suddenly went dark. Then the darkness grew until I could no longer see anything! I was looking right at him and yet I could not see him. I knew I was about to pass out. Something inside me was insistent, "Don't pass out!" For some reason I was convinced that if I passed out, I would die. But my lungs kept screaming for air! I was getting more lightheaded by the second, and my consciousness was begging my body to hang on.

It is funny the thoughts that go through your head at a time like that. I started thinking about this show I had seen on the Discovery channel. It was about these ice-divers. How they would dive under the ice and swim sometimes hundreds of yards at a time before finding a hole in the ice where they could resurface. One in particular was an expert "free-style ice-diver." That meant that unlike most divers he did his diving without the aid of scuba gear or an oxygen tank. I recalled an interview with this man where he explained that he had to learn how to go long distances without breathing. If you tried to come up for air while you were still under the ice, he said, not only would you not get air, but you would likely hit your head on the ice and drown. You had to do whatever was necessary to keep yourself from trying to breathe until you came to a break in the ice. He talked about how he used meditation to train his body not to breathe. He went into great detail about what an animal's body goes through when it goes into hibernation. How everything slows down and all but the most vital parts nearly stop completely. He said that when the heart rate, brain waves, circulatory system, metabolic rate etc... slow down, the result is a much lower need for oxygen. Hibernating animals typically use almost 70% less oxygen than they do in their active state. He explained that while seals don't hibernate, they do slow their metabolic rates down to hibernation levels while diving under the ice. He said certain seals can swim under the ice for twenty minutes or more before coming up to the surface for air. Then he told the interviewer that before he goes on a dive he uses a form of meditation to put all unnecessary parts of his body to sleep. He tells himself that his bodily functions are slowing down and he no longer needs oxygen to survive.

As I lay there being horribly violated on that bed, I began to think about hibernating. I started telling my body parts to go to sleep. Telling my body that it was okay, it did not need to stay awake for this, it could just go into hibernation. I started telling myself I didn't need oxygen. I imagined I was swimming under the ice and I just had to hold my breath until I found a break in the ice. Then I could come up for air. I did my best to ignore the burning in my lungs. In this way, I somehow got through. A couple of times when he shifted on top of me, there was a break in the ice. His hand would lift just enough, or the space between his fingers would separate just enough to allow a small half-gasp of air. I was careful not to try to suck in air when there was no break, I knew if I tried, I would hit my head on the ice and drown. I would pass out. If I passed out, I would miss the next break in the ice, I would not get that next half-gasp of air. I would die.

It seemed to go on an on. Searching for air-holes. Desperate to live. Wondering if I was ready to face God. It went on and on and on and my focus was always on the next breath. When would I be able to breathe again? Could I swim under the ice for twenty minutes or more? Could I stay in hibernation?

What seemed an eternity later he finally got off me. I lay there panting, gasping, choking, and shoveling buckets full of air into my lungs. Tears silently streamed down my face as my body shook at those first few precious drops of oxygen. Life saving oxygen. My body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I was weak and exhausted. My head pounded. Slowly, as a shadow lifting, shade by shade I started being able to see again. I wanted to run, but for some time I just lay there gasping for breath.

He threw my clothes into the bathroom and barked at me to go clean up. Somehow I stumbled into the bathroom. When I looked in the mirror I was shocked! My entire face was blue! Even the skin showing through the part in my hair was blue. My lips were purple. I had the irrational thought that it might never go back to a normal color. I had never seen human skin anywhere near this shade and I hope to God I never do again. My eyes were bloodshot, I had broken capillaries on my nose and cheeks, and already there were large purple welts on my thighs where he had pinned me down. I could see the imprint of where his hand had been covering my mouth. It occurred to me at that moment that on TV this is the part where the woman sneaks out the bathroom window and runs to the police. There was no bathroom window and I already knew I would never tell anyone what had happened that day.

As I was leaving, he actually asked me if I was okay. I didn't answer him, I didn't look back; I just walked down the hallway towards my own room. I had read accounts of women who had been raped. I thought I had empathetically felt their pain. Still, I was not prepared for the darkness that enveloped me. I remember reading how afterward women often get in the shower and attempt to scrub every part of themselves clean. I remember thinking how sad and futile that was.

But there I was.

Like so many women before me, standing in a scalding hot shower. The water mixing with my sweat, mixing with my tears, mixing with his fluids. Scrubbing my skin raw. Scrubbing in some places until I bled.

When I could scrub no more, I got in bed. I called my company and told them I was sick. I stayed in bed for 60 hours. I didn't get up to eat. I didn't get up to drink. I didn't get up to use the bathroom. I don't think I even slept, I just lay there for 60 straight hours.

I knew I could not afford to lose my job and so after a couple of days I finally managed to put myself together enough to attend class. By then the hand-print on my face had faded enough that I could cover it with foundation and concealer. My eyes were still a little bloodshot, but I figured that would make it seem as though I had genuinely been sick. To my amazement they allowed me to take the exams I had missed. Even more amazing is the fact that I passed them without having received any instruction on them. That last week of training passed in a fog. I no longer attended group study sessions, preferring to study alone in my room. Somehow, I passed the training. I went home. I got promoted. I got back in bed.

No longer did I go to the gym twice a day. I didn't go at all. It wasn't so much that I decided to go back to the fat me. It was just that I could no longer figure out why I was working so hard to be thin. What had it gotten me? I managed to get myself to work and back each day, but other than that I literally spent all my time in bed. As soon as I got home each day I would crawl in bed and try to forget I existed. I went into hibernation.

Months later when I finally emerged from that hibernation, I no longer had a desire to look like the girls on the magazine rack. Each time the scale revealed a weight increase, I hated myself for it, but also felt strangely comforted by it. It was like each pound was another layer of protection around me. Soon the boys would stop looking. Soon the checkout girls would go back to ignoring me. Soon I would be invisible.

But sometimes I still dream

I'm swimming under the ice,

Searching for a break

Sometimes I still wake up

Gasping for breath.