Re-post

I like to take my glasses off when I read. This causes the world to become fuzzy and means I have to hold the book really close to my face, but it helps my concentration. 

Ever since I was raped in Germany 18 months ago I have longed to do the same with my mind. Take off my glasses/the memories from that night and only be approached by the day ahead of me. Instead, I have struggled both with the harsh realities of PTSD and how to cope with life from my new perspective as a victim of sexual assault, haunted by the fact he is still roaming the streets as a rapist.

Rape doesn’t have to be violent in the literal sense. Rape is taking away your right to say no. I was panic-stricken to wake up to him leaning over me as I lay in the foetal position, cupping my breasts and pulling down my shorts. Terror and shame swallowed me whole and I was frozen and unable to scream. The rest has been blocked out by my sub-conscious and sometimes comes back to haunt me in the form of nightmares and/or flashbacks. 

I thought feeling disgusted was the wrong way to feel and maybe I was overreacting. Was “rape” the correct word for it? I didn't want it... Maybe I made him think that I wanted it? What would my family say? I was fouled both inside and out. I believed that if a man I trusted and who had known me for so many years could victimise me this way then why shouldn't anyone else do the same. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I'm a slut in the world’s eyes.

It took about 6 months for me to realise. Before that, I had been denying the act to myself because if I acknowledged it then it would be real. March 2014, my mental health was deteriorating faster everyday. I was depressed, anxious and the feeling of worthlessness made surviving a constant battle.

Then the nightmares began. 

April 2014 I was home; the incident was just a "dirty" feeling at the back of my mind. My first nightmare I was being raped all over again, the panic was high and I was frozen; unable to move or scream for help. I woke up dripping in sweat and panic, crying out for anyone that would listen. 

The nightmares meant that I stopped sleeping completely. The hell of insomnia, just the shell of my charming subconscious, made me seek help with my GP.  I entered the surgery one day expecting to be sent home with sleeping tablets and instead left with antidepressants.

In November 2014 I finally told my Dad. Nothing good came of that apart from chipping a small amount of the weight off my shoulders... A completely selfish act, you could say. He held it inside for two whole weeks before telling a soul. 

Not long after, I was discouraged from going to the police. This woman said that in a court of law I would have no chance against the defence as they would bring up my history of sexual partners, the fact I was drunk and the fact that I was in shorts and a t shirt. Being told this by another woman who had known me for over a decade, a woman who said she had also been raped, was devastating.

This meant that I took even longer to go to the police. Why? Because I was petrified of what would happen to me if I reported him. I was scared of being thought of as an accuser of rape, rather than a victim of it. And this is still the dominant view of rape victims in this fucking world. 

She was drunk. She was naked and drunk. She's a slut! He didn't actually beat her up so it is clearly not rape. She wanted it. 

The GP encouraged me to seek help through mental health services, but my efforts were for a long time to no avail. Having been to four assessment appointments from September 2014 to April 2015; I have longed to expel this experience and leave it behind me.

The many stories I have heard of people’s personal accounts of their experience of being sexually assaulted have given me some comfort that I am not alone. I want to change the stigma that is so quickly to be placed on rape victims. I want people who both know me personally or not at all to understand that this is something that needs to change. People will only realise this with a victim’s brutal honesty and raw insight combined with their courage to speak out.

I've been told by some that forgiveness is my only hope of freedom. But to me, that thought is unfathomable. This man and the parasites that support him took so much more from me than just my right to say no. I would rather strive for indifference. 

Until then, I would just love the chance to say fuck you.