It wasn’t really supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to be here again. I thought that I had put up every possible protective measure that I could have. To keep myself cocooned from harm, from assault; from rape…….
I have always had this fear that it was going to happen again. I had a contingency plan, who I would call and where I would go. The thing is in that plan the rapist was someone who broke in, not someone I willingly let in my front door. But this time that’s what happened. I had no idea what was about to happen. Obviously if I had I would of run, locked my door and deleted my profile.
I didn’t though because I trusted this guy, I trusted that he knew what he was coming over for, we mutually agreed on sex. I know, I know what you’re probably saying.
“Girl what the fuck were you thinking?”
I wasn’t thinking that’s the problem. I try so hard to keep this part who desperately feels that sex is going to fix the pain. I try to keep her buried because she carries so much shame. I did pour her heart out to you the day I wrote the post about being drugged and raped. I can think of no other reason for posting that, than that hurting girl needed you to hear her.
Lately it hasn’t been that way. I have attempted to shut her down because her memories are too strong for me. I began having panic attacked in the elevator last week because I remember being there with him. I remember everything about him, about the way he was so aggressive with me, how I was uncomfortable with it but didn’t think I could say no because I had put up such a show in the text messages we had sent back and forth.
I really didn’t want to go through with it once he showed up but I couldn’t back out. I let him do what he wanted, then we drank and that’s when everything stops.
I keep thinking that if I can just search my brain hard enough that the memories with come back. It’s likely they won’t. He gave me a powerful sedative mixed with alcohol. Those memories are gone, buried in my subconscious. I have nightmares about it but that’s as far as it goes.
Not having a memory is terrifying because I have no idea what he did while I was unconscious. I don’t even remember him leaving.
I cannot spend my energy wondering what happened because it isn’t going to help me move on. Nothing is going to change what happened and that’s why I am at where I am at. I am scared, no lie. I added an extra lock and now carry the strongest pepper spray possible. Even though I know this wasn’t a random attack it helps me feel a little bit safer.
I have said it before that I wish I never told anyone, that I had kept it a secret. But secrets build lies and the deeper into the assault I went I needed people to know even though that was painful. I still fear what people might think about me.
I felt ashamed because I thought I had my bases covered, my double locks, my fight or flight attitude when fear set in. But his drugs took all of that away. When I woke up the next morning I needed to process what happened. It didn’t take long to figure out that I had been assaulted.
I felt great shame in sharing what happened yet there was a part of my heart that was screaming for freedom. For people to once and for all know that I had been assaulted that night and many times before. I realized in those moments that it was no longer my shame to carry. That the shame, lies at the hands of my abusers and I know longer need to carry it.
It’s going to take a lot of time to get through this one. It adds a heavy layer to my already abusive past.
But I know now that this isn’t the end of my story.