She sat with me, and she held me, and she cried with me...and she was "here" and "present" and "unafraid" and "nonjudgemental"

When I was a senior in high school I was raped.  I don't talk about the details of that night, I shared them with the therapist, but I won't share them again, and that is not the purpose for my writing tonight. 

The morning  after the rape, I went to work (I worked at McDonald's at the time) but standing there, pouring hot cakes on the grill, I started to cry and I could not stop.  I told the manager I was sick and needed to leave...and I went to a friend's house.

I had been up all night, afraid to go to sleep after what had happened, and I was tired and I was scared.  She sat with me, my friend.  Together, the two of us sat together on her couch, not talking, just sitting together. 

I started to cry and she held me. 
She held me while I cried for what seemed like hours...and she held me, not talking, just sitting with me, holding me, while I cried. 

Eventually the tears stopped and I fell asleep. 
She held me while I slept, not talking, just holding me, while I slept.

And when I woke up, she was still there, sitting with me, holding me, in my pain, and my inability to talk about what happened.  She did not tell me to push it away or forget about it.  She did not judge me or tell me it was my fault.  She sat with  me.  She held me.  She made me feel safe.   

20 years have passed and she is still my friend.  She sat with me then.  She was there for me.  She did not judge me.  She did not walk away from me when I told her what happened. 

20 years later and I still remember her support.  She lives 1200 miles away from me now ~ and we see each other once or twice a year...but I always know she is there if I need her...and I will always remember how safe and cared for she made me feel that night.

And the only time she brought me a bucket was when I needed to throw up.

I am hurting...and I am crying...but no one is here for me now.  Just a blanket and a stuffed bear.  I just wanted someone to listen to me, to sit with me, to hear me, hold me if I cried...  And the only time I wanted her to throw me a bucket was when I needed to vomit. 

My friend Jamie sat with me and held me and let me cry....she knew that buckets hold puke, not 'feelings'.   My friend jamie is an urban planner (whatever that is (?) ...she is not a therapist.  But she knew that buckets aren't for feelings...buckets are for puke!