It took a long time to be able to talk about this at all. None of my closest friends (all of whom I've known for decades) knew even; just the armed forces, a hospital and the police.
The first part of my healing involved dealing with the guilt that I had somehow brought this on myself by letting my guard down and the shame of being "bested".
I feel differently now.
My closest friends and family now know the extent of what happened. There have been many tears - theirs, not mine. I don't blub ;)
But the healing began last year and is going well.
I no longer feel a need to conceal out of shame and guilt and with a more objective outlook, I realise just what a nightmare I must have seemed to the cowards that held me hostage and tried to take my life.
MY life. The life that belongs to me, that I deserve to keep.
I didn't give an inch. Not once. I kicked, punched, and even bit (hey, when you're unarmed you use what you have!).
And every time I regained consciousness, I fought them again, and again and again.
I hit their balls, broke noses, split lips and eyebrows and even cracked heads.
I left one of my teeth embedded in one of their forearms...
I was in a very bad way when I got away. But I DID get away.
And now I can hold my head high and say, my nightmares will go in time with healing.
But I was THEIR worst nightmare and that makes me smile.
I may never win any Tom Cruise lookalike contests, but I am strong and I will ALWAYS stand up to brutal extremists.
This poem is my middle finger to people that think religion is a basis or excuse for extreme violence and murder.