This is the second ‘Blogs by other people’ on my blog and I am so in love with them so if anyone has a blog they would like me to post send it to me and I will.
This blog is by one of my incredibly strong, brave friends and because of the content of the blog were gonna keep her name and everything confidential.
Dear rapist, Not only did you rape me that day but you also stole something I will never get back. The old me, the me you stole that morning. I miss being care free and not shuddering at the touch or sight of a man. I miss not worrying about wether or not the GP is male or female. I miss not having real life nightmares and seeing your face when I shut my eyes. I miss my innocence, and the friends I’ve lost along the way. It’s okay for you, your not damaged or broken like I am.
So I’ve written this so all attackers can see what it’s like for survivors of sexual assault and what it has done to me and many others. Rape lasts longing then the time of the assault itself, I think people forget that, oh it was ages ago they might say, except I relived it all last night as I lay in bed. Nothing is more humiliating than lying on a bed being examined by strangers looking for evidence. Waiting at the clinic to be tested for HIV and then getting prodded with needles whilst you sit there silently reliving it all. Being given medicine to prevent any illnesses you may get but really it makes you feel sicker. The looks you get from the nurses once they find out why your there the “I feel sorry for her” or the “how stupid was she” look. To be told there’s a high chance of your attacker giving you herpes is absolutely horrific.
You sit there frozen and break down. That’s your whole life gone if that’s true, the chances of having healthy children and finding someone who would love you despite your disease. Waiting weeks to find out how your future will lay out is horrible. Having to tell your story in front of two police men and a video camera when you haven’t quite come to terms with what’s happened. Trying to explain something you don’t understand yourself is hard enough. But you have to relive the event as you tell them your story feeling more and more ashamed. The pregnancy scare, replaying scenarios in your head as to what you would do if you where, how you would cope carrying a rapists baby. Would you terminate? What if it’s against everything you believe in? But you know no one would love the baby except you and even that would be a challenge.
GPs sigh and stare at you whilst your mum explains why she thinks you may be depressed. You get treated differently by everyone that knows even friends and family. They don’t have to say much but there’s a sense of awkwardness in the room when you enter. No one knows what to say. Parents blame themselves and are too scared to ask if your okay in case you say no. Every time the police get in contact it’s like 10 steps backwards in your mind as you relive it again and the nightmares become more frequent and your anxiety gets worse. You get treated like the one on trial, constant questions that feel like an accusation against your statement. Getting social media accounts and your phone taken off of you for weeks, months. Feeling alone being pushed further and further into that cave. Then there’s all the meetings with the police and therapists, friends questioning why you’ve been visiting the “dentist” so much recently and why you have the “doctors” yet again.
When you finally have the courage to be intimate with someone you have to stop because the flash backs are too much and you cry yourself to sleep feeling so alone and unfixable. How do you cope? You turn to alcohol and drugs, you find sanity at the bottom of a bottle you get high and end up falling in love with the feeling of not having control of your mind and body. Getting so out of it you don’t know where you are and for a moment you forget who you are. Mentally your lost.
If the CPS come to the decision that there’s not enough evidence it’s like your whole world falls apart, your scared of what the future holds if he’ll hurt you again because he knows he can.
You feel worthless like you don’t matter.
All the people you’ve hurt along the way from speaking out and for what ? To be told he’s getting away with it. They say there’s not enough evidence but you know if they lived a day in your mind they’d find more than enough evidence. You know then and there you’ll never have justice for what he did to you. For the life changing crime he committed and got away with.
Family and friends move on in the end and it’s never spoken about again. Everyone assumes your okay because you haven’t said otherwise . To scared to ask, parents act as if nothing has happened as if the past months where just a bad dream. But they weren’t it’s very real.
When things in life move on and your “better” as such you know your not. You know deep down that your happiness is being held up by a very thin sheet of paper and before you know it that paper will wear too thin and everything will come crashing down.
You feel as though you can’t talk about it anymore because in everyone else’s eyes it’s over now, he didn’t get charged so we can pretend it never happened. I will never be 100% “fixed” I still shudder at his name and refuse to say it myself. I still freeze when I go past his street. I still have nightmares it’s always there. Sometimes I don’t want to be touched or touch another because the memory’s are too raw and it brings it all back.
Sometimes I feel like it’s not worth it that living the lie of ‘I’m okay’ is getting to Much now. I’m not the same person I was before the assault and I never will be. It kills me to think it won’t be long and I will come crashing down again. As soon as I let my darkest thoughts surface again it’s over. As my rapist walks around freely laughing at me I know too well I will never be free of this ever.
Even if one day I can say I am a complete survivor I will never be able to say I’m a free.