Letter written to a friend tonight, that I think sums up where I am at now ...
Hi B****,
Your point of view - if it
happened to someone I love, how would I feel? Would I want her to blame herself
- is the way I think when I am thinking rationally. If someone had done
something similar to one of my nieces, I'd want to rip his balls off and stab
him. I would be so angry at the bastard who hurt her. I would be doing every
thing in my power to show her that women get raped because men rape them. Not
because they drink, or because they wear short skirts, or because they aren't
"careful". Women get raped because some men are bastards, and all the
shame and blame and guilt lies with the rapist.
But knowing that, and believing
that are two completely different things after you've been raped. On my
rational days, I know it's all on him. His fault. Nothing I did caused it. I
didn't drink, get high, dress provocatively, I didn't "ask for it" -
but even if I had, it still would not have been ok for him to do what he did.
On my rational days, I know I have nothing to be ashamed of, that I was raped
because he raped me and that was not my fault, in any way.
But there are days, or nights
when the doubt creeps in. I met him last year when he did some work on my
house, and re-met him in June this year on a dating site. On my bad days I
think that if I wasn't so pathetic, if I had more self respect for myself, if I
wasn't so desperate I would not have gotten myself in that situation. If I wasn't so willing to be
used, knowing full well that he probably just wanted to use me for sex. My
fault. My fault for being a pushover. For not having a backbone. For being a
doormat. For not having any self respect for myself. I got what I deserved.
That's what I think on a bad day. And I know thinking like that gives him the
power, thinking like that means that he wins - but sometimes I can't help it.
I didn't report it at the time.
He was angry when he raped me. It was the first time that I'd seen that side of
him, and I was terrified of making him angry again by reporting it. I was so,
so frightened. He also sort of started stalking me - showing up at my work, at
my house late at night ... It was scary. I thought if I ignored it, ignored
him, I could forget what happened. But it doesn't work like that.
So about four weeks ago, I
started to think about reporting it. I know nothing will probably come of it -
it's my word against his. But mud sticks. It'll get around. Oh, did you hear?
Corey was interviewed about a rape. So I don't particularly care if it doesn't
go to court. I spent three god-awful hours telling my story, giving my
statement. And i lived through it. And by doing that, it's going to cause a
tiny fraction of hell for him, because they will interview him. It will be
nothing compared to the pain and hell I've been through, but hopefully his life
is made a little uncomfortable because I had the courage to stand up.
On my strong days, I can cope
well. I feel like I can face whatever is thrown at me. On my strong days, I
know none of this is on me. Not my fault, not deserved in any way. On my strong
days, I feel like I’m the winner. I’m the winner because I’m a goddamn survivor
and he’s a pathetic little nothing. On my strong days I realise how strong I
really am. I survived the horror of that night. I lived through what he did to
me. On my strong days I can smile and feel like I’m finally getting my spark
back. After the rape, my sister almost broke my heart when she told me that I’d
lost my spark. It made me cry and cry. On my strong days, I feel like I might
be finding that spark again. I know I will never be the same person I was
before, but that’s ok. On my strong days, I know I’ll get through this.
On my strong days, like today, I
can talk. I can talk about it, knowing that takes the power away from it, from
what was done to me, knowing that by talking I’m taking away the shame and the
stigma, and I’m showing my strength, my courage. On my strong days, I’m a
survivor. On my weak days, on my bad days, I’m a victim.
Today’s a good day. Today I do
feel strong, which is why I’m talking so much (sorry!). But I still have a lot
of bad days, bad nights, Anxiety. Flashbacks. Nightmares. Panic attacks. Night
terrors. Some nights I have to sleep with the light on! 29 and sleeping with
the light on. Bit sad, really! I’m better than I was. So much better. Last
night was bad, but it was the first bad night I’ve had for a while. The day
after a bad night, I have to force myself to feel strong. I have to force
myself to talk, to take the shame and blame away from me. I have to force
myself to say, I am not ashamed. I will take a stand. It’s not always easy. But
fuck him. He’s already taken so much from me, He doesn’t get any more. He doesn’t
get anything else.
As for your comment in the first
email from today - god I have probably just completely fucked up writing to you
:( - not even close. Your beauty and humor and personality and passion shine
through in your writing. Thank you so very much for writing to me, and for
taking the time to listen. Thank you for your kind words, your
style of writing, and again, for listening.
As for whether he is still
stalking me – no, he’s not. I work in a male dominated work place, and I have
told a few of the guys I work closely with in case he comes in again, but since
I went on holidays August/September, he seems to have lost interest. He turned
up at my place on a Saturday night (at 10:30 p.m,) just before I went on
holidays, wanting to “talk”. That’s when I realised how pathetic he is. It was
like he was fucking with my mind, just trying to get a reaction from me. The
fact that I was able to stay strong and not give in – not show any reaction,
any anger, any weakness – I think that’s why he lost interest.
Coincidentally, maybe ironically,
I was walking to work last Thursday morning, after I spent three and a half
hours going through every detail of that awful night the night before at the
Police station, and he drove past me, twice. My legs went really shaky, my
brain was screaming danger, and I felt like I was going to throw up, but then I
started to smile. He doesn’t know they’re coming for him. He thinks I’m too
much of a doormat, that he got away with it. Nothing about his life was changed
that night, where as every single part of my life was changed. I let him get
away with that. I let him hurt me, and I stood there and let him get away with
it. The things that he did, that I flash back to twenty or thirty times a day,
are things that he probably does not even think about. He probably doesn’t even
think about how he hurt me, made me bleed, made me beg and cry and scream for
him to stop. It’s not constantly in his mind.
But soon it will be. And like I
said, maybe it won’t go anywhere, maybe it won’t lead to court, but somewhere
along the line, somehow, he will pay. He will get what’s coming to him. He’ll
get what he deserves.
Ok, so very sorry this is so
long! Will talk again soon.
