Stitched Up

This week I had a disturbing dream.  I was in a doctor's office having a minor procedure done -- removing a wart or something like that -- when I happened to see a drawing of what the doctor intended to do.  In a difficult two hour operation he was going to sew up my genitals.  I was horrified -- and not only because it was without my consent or knowledge.

When I woke up from the dream my first thought was of an operation to make me a virgin again.  That some man had thought this a good idea.  Value added.  I know this is actually done.  I also know that my father began exploring my body when I was very young, before I went to school -- so that he might think it a good idea to start afresh.

Another thought was of being stitched up -- a phrase used in police shows about someone who's been set up to seem guilty but is not.  This idea reverberates for me as well since it's only recently that I've understood that the trauma I endured was not my fault.

And then there's the idea of control.  Lack of consent or prior knowledge.  Shutting me up in every possible way.  Silencing me.  Keeping me from experiencing the life of an adult -- a girl, not a woman.

Sadly every one of these ideas has meaning for me.