One night

I write about a lot of things on here but this is something I don’t write about, it’s harder for me to write about, it’s one of the more private things in my life.

But today for some reason I feel compelled to write about it…. Not sure why or what this will do, or if I will even post it, but writing is cathartic for me , so even just the act will release this burden from my body.

I was talking with a girl from work and I said it just like that, didn’t even think about it, she looked at me stunned and turned around and asked me how I could just say it nonchalantly, like it wasn’t anything.

I have been talking about these things with therapists off and on for years, I guess it doesn’t phase me anymore, well that’s not right, it does, I still have nightmares, and have anxiety over it. It affects my life everyday, I just don’t notice it much anymore.

I was out with people from work, we were at a bar, drinking having fun, I never knew how much that night would change my life, and who I was. I lost them, I was looking all over for them and couldn’t find them, they must’ve left. I looked at the time bar was closed and I needed to find a way home. I called some friends but it was 3 am, my next choice was a cab, I wasn’t too keen on it, actually I was terrified, some guy next to me asked to borrow my phone, I let him.

He then asked if I needed a ride, I felt a little relieved I didn’t have to take a cab, I should have walked away, but decided in my drunken theory that this was a good idea.

I was told we’d drop one of the people off and then they’d take me home. I must’ve been so drunk, but not drunk enough to realize that the turn made after dropping said person off was the wrong one.

I was beginning to panic, I started to ask why we weren’t going in the opposite direction, I was told that we’d be dropping another friend off first. Okay??? Still not making any sense I went with it. Meanwhile the driver kept talking to me, I don’t remember the conversation, but do remember him asking if I thought he was cute, umm sure, I guess, not really…..what do I say?

We arrived at our next destination, clearly this would have been an optimal time to get the hell out, but lets face it, in the inebriated condition I was in, it wasn’t happening. It was suggested that I get out and come into house, the driver citing he was tired and needed a break. OMG how damn gullible could I be? Apparently quite. Get the hell out there!!!!

The one we dropped off quickly faded away into his room and I was left with the driver. I mentioned that I really needed to get home, my son would be waking up, I just really needed to go. Clearly that didn’t work, I tried another way, but saw frustration rising instead. Drop it, I told myself. We chatted some more. OMG I just want to leave. Just leave you stupid girl. Clearly still not sober enough to do anything about it, I continued to chat about the military and stuff, great he had been in the military. Good to know.

At some point the driver wanted to take a cat nap and it was suggested that I join him. A little more nudging, and the sight of the knife under the bed quickly made my decision. I started to pray at that moment. In my gut, as much I wanted it to be the alcohol, I knew it was my gut, something was very wrong now. My body froze. My mind went somewhere else. The last thing I pictured was my little boy asleep at home, I silently begged God to let me live and go back to him.

My body shut down, I couldn’t move and I don’t remember too much, kind of a fog to protect me I guess. I know that he removed my clothes and got on top of me, did what he was going to do, and rolled off me, he was asleep in seconds apparently exhausted, I nudged him a couple of times to make sure he was asleep, I pulled on my clothes, grabbed my shoes and finally got the hell out of there. I had know clue where I was, just that we had passed at 7-11. I ran down some dark alleyway to the main road. Tears burning as they streaked my face. I fumbled with my phone trying to find a cab number. I was heading to the 7-11 to wait for the cab, when my worst fear happened as I saw the car again, I hid behind something as he drove past me. I saw the cab drive by too, F@#$ could it get any worse? The cab needed to hurry up, he’d be back soon I knew he was out looking for me. Finally in the cab, he asked where I was going, I told him and he snickered and said it would be expensive. What the hell. Seriously just drive.

I got home and ran too the shower. I turned the water on and just cried. I scrubbed myself raw, I wanted to rip my skin off, and anything else he touched. I crawled into bed with my little boy and just held him and silently cried.

The next few months were a blur. Every time I went anywhere I thought I was being followed. I would see a vehicle like his and shake uncontrollably. I couldn’t sleep, nor would I the nightmares were horrible. I would try to keep everything together for my son and everyone but inside, in private I was a mess. Everyday I thought about dying, my skin crawled and I wanted out it badly. I stayed strong for that little boy who needed me, but even that would only last a few more months.

When my son left to live with my aunt, that mess just got bigger. I started to drink to get rid of the pain I was constantly feeling. I was on antidepressants, something for the anxiety, because by then I was something of a recluse. Work at the time brought me back to the area where it happened over and over again, it broke me. I would be shaking and freaking out all the time in the car and then had to explain why I was acting so strange. I was humiliated.

I felt awful, and alone. That for some reason I had done something to deserve this. The black hole in my heart grew, I numbed the pain with more and more alcohol. I began partying more, at first I couldn’t go anywhere, but then I was out every weekend. I was acting out, trying to control what was happening but couldn’t my life was spiraling out of control. I began taking risks I normally wouldn’t because I wanted to feel something other than pain and hurt. Or this strange feeling that I deserved to have these things happen to me. I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted out.

That was 10 years ago or so. I still have those nightmares. I still feel like I deserved that. I don’t trust anyone, not really. It affects my relationships with men everyday, even with my dad.

I went and got help probably a year later, I went to the police as well. It took many years to heal, but it never goes away. Not really. I would be raped more than just that time.

I still feel ashamed, that I did something wrong. Which I know is not true. I know I did not deserve any of that, but it’s hard to change my mind of that.

I have had young girls close to me, suffer the same thing. nothing makes me more angry in this world. I lived through it. I count my blessings everyday. I thank God everyday. but some are not so lucky.

I want to be able to tell my nieces and maybe my daughter if I were to have one, and every other girl I know that this will not happen to them, but the chances are pretty likely that it will happen to one of them.

I hope and pray it doesn’t. But the truth is, is that you probably already know of someone a sister, a friend, a child, a mother that this happened to. It happens all too often, and the guys think, ( well they don’t think) it’s just sex it won’t do anything.

It ruins lives everyday. 10 yrs have passed and just this past year I was almost raped again. All those memories and thoughts, nightmares that I thought were long gone, came rushing back. I became that scared person again. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t function. I slept in sweaters and mittens. I always look behind me, scared someone is following me. This doesn’t just go away. It’s not nothing.

It affects our lives FOREVER. Our relationships with ourselves, with men. Everything is affected. I may not have any scars on the outside from this, but inside, is a whole different story. That night changed my life forever.

I hope and pray that no one has to go through this, but I know people will. What makes it worse, is that it could stop, but it doesn’t. I can’t say what goes through a persons mind when they decide that this is okay. Or how they rationalize it. No means no. No questions. Its not just the verbal no, but if a physical one too. Everyone reacts differently but it’s pretty clear when someone isn’t in to it. Drunk or not. It doesn’t give anyone the right to do that.

I don’t know what good this will do if any. I just don’t want to hide it, or carry it anymore. I am better. It has taken so long to heal and it seems to be never ending process, but I am making headway. I still have my ups and downs, but I am still here. Alive.

Talking for me helped, whether it was a therapist, or a doctor, getting it off my chest was the first step, learning that it wasn’t my fault was the next. I am always still learning. It isn’t easy to get through but you can, I did.