They say time flies when your having fun, and the bad days seem to never end. I have found this well known quote to be completely way off reality. Next month will mark one year since my assault and everyday has been a living hell and yet it has flown by scarily fast. It seems like the incident happened only a few months ago. On a really bad day, the minutes seem to tick by slowly but then at the end of the day i realise its actually gone really fast. I feel like i have lost an entire year of my life. Not only have I lost myself, but i am also loosing time.
That bastard has taken away my time. Its overwhelmingly scary when you start to do a tick list of all the things that have been stolen from you, it seems impossible to take them all back. If i am honest i don't think they can be taken back.
In therapy i often discuss with my Therapist about my future, or lack of one. Last week she asked me to draw how i see myself now, and how i see myself in the future. For the how i see myself now i drew a question mark, a large black scribble of mess and a stickman dead at the bottom of the ocean, ball and chain around it's leg. Naturally my therapists interpretation was dead on (no pun intended). I know there something holding me back, something that is stopping me from moving forwards in my healing, what it is...i do not know. My therapist said once we are able to undo the chain which is holding me to the sea bed, i will slowly start to find myself again and begin to heal. She said my soul is not dead, but that it is off somewhere and slowly i will start to find it again and take back what has been taken. This is one the few times i completely disagreed with her.
I have started to realise (and i am not saying this is true for everyone) that when a trauma so huge happens to someone it is literally like it has killed them. I have had many survivors explain their trauma like 'a murder where there was no literal death'. When someone has died, there can be no resuscitation. I believe this is true with me. My soul has not simply 'gone away for a while'. It is dead, lying in the vegetation at the bottom of ocean. He killed me. I think - for me - it's not about getting back that girl i was before the rape (i'm not sure i'd even want to be that weak vulnerable naive girl anyway) it's about creating a new one. A new me. Trouble is sometimes it makes me so angry that the girl i have been for 22 years is suddenly gone along with all her hopes and dreams. Now all i have to work with is this empty shell. My therapist found this analogy interesting and could understand where i was coming from. She said 'isn't a blank canvas exciting, think of all you could create for your "new" self and the woman you could become'. Personally i think it seems like a lot of fucking hard work (excuse the curse!).
It begs the questions:
- how do you live when you are already dead?
- how do you start over and create a new self?
- how do you know you will like the person you end up becoming?
It also makes me wonder, if rapists truly take a persons life (which i believe they do) then why on earth when it comes to our justice system do they not get given life sentences! IF they are even convicted, which there is a despicable 6.5% chance of, the average sentence is four years, meaning they are out in two years. TWO years for taking anothers life. People get more for driving offenses. The world is a f'd up place!
I think something is seriously wrong with me.
Today i worked at a place ive never worked before, at a low secure units for criminals who have mental health issues.
I started the shift nervous - as it was all male criminals - but ending up being fine, they were all really nice and friendly, lovely to me, made me drinks. Then i asked the nurse about the unit and she told me about it, said if im interested to read their files....
Well first the guy i'd just been chatting for ages was a baby killer, murdered his baby boy (in his bad mental health state thought he was the devil and killed him)
And then i find out there is a rapist and a man who indecently has exposed himself to his children in the past.
I now have to work with these people. Weird thing is, on another ward about a month ago, i encounted a child molester, it made me so ill, and i refused to nurse him and stayed far far away from this creep, made so uncomfortable. This time.....it didnt phase me! WHY!!!
Is it because i am so disconnected from everything? from my R*? from other people's R*?
Both these incidents were many many years ago and they had both served time for it, they were now serving time for things like stealing etc and were in the unit due to the mental issues they had. But thats besides the point, these people have seriously affected someone elses life, regardless of how long ago it was, regardless of the fact they had served there time. For some reason the fact they were sexual offenders didnt seem to connect in my head....i even played pool with one of them!!! I was thinking i should beating the shit out of this guy with the pool que and yet the feelings of hatred and disgust just didn't connect. WHY! I feel like a freak, i feel like ive betrayed myself and all other survivors out there. Its so hard because its my job and i cant just ignore these people and treat them like shit, but what is bothering me is the fact that it all just didn't phase me. Didn't affect me.
What also is making me feel so disgusting is the fact there was a staff member there that looked quite a bit like my rapist. At first i had a mini attack but then calmed myself down assuring myself it wasn't him. But then he kept coming over and talking to me. He was nice. Whats worse is...i kind of fancied him. WHAT?! i fancied a guy who looks a bit like my rapist! I mean my rapist was tall, dark and quite good looking (what i normally go for) and there are a lot of people who obviously will look like him, and its freaking me out the fact that i am going to be attracted to these people? This is so messed up and confusing me and making me feel so disgusting. But then i can hardly go and change my type in men? Im so sorry to be ranting, im probably not even making any sense, ive just walked through the door in such a daze, i cant explain my behaviour today and its making me hate myself even more. I feel so dirty and disgusting.
Please can someone help me make sense of all this, i feel like such a disgusting freak.
It's almost like i was fine at work, but now im at home the truth is starting to sink in and i feel myself becoming triggered by todays events, i think its going to be a bad night
Please if you dont hate me for how ive behaved today...please sit with me
Since everything happened, i have very little self worth and don't think very highly of myself. I often can't look myself in the eyes in my reflection in mirrors. I don't like myself very much.
I am weak
I've struggled bad with something today. At work a 50 year old doctor came onto me...im only 22. Hes older than my dad. Yesterday i thought i saw him taking photos of me at work...today i find out he did. He asked me to meet him after work as he wanted to talk to me about something, said he would meet me by my car. He then suspiciously came out with 'dont worry im not a rapist or a stalker or something'.... who says that?!?! I spent the whole day worried about the end of my shift. At the end as i walked to my car he wasn't in sight, i was so relieved, i got in the car and went to drive off as he popped up next to my car. I got out saying 'oh sorry i forgot you wanted a chat'. He tells me he is very intrigued by me and just wanted to get to know me, but thought i might get into trouble talking at work. He said he doesnt mean me any harm, he just wants to be my friend. He said he likes the way i look.....and liked my tattoo's which made me more attractive. By this point my heart was in my throat. Boom Boom Boom. Said he would like to meet me one time. Gave me his phone number which he had already pre-written. It felt like i was standing there for hours. He told me not to worry that he had deleted them photos, but can he please have another one...i asked him why, he said because i like looking you 
he then said bye....and
stroked my chin 
I came home and burned the number, went in the shower and scrubbed my chin until it was practically bleeding (i now look pretty stupid!) I feel so sick, so dirty. Im terrified of working back on that ward. I don't know what to do. I feel to scared to report to his superior as he is a respected psychiatrist. Im too scared to report it to my superiors because they know about my r* and if i then tell them this...will they just think i am a liar.
I think any other person probably could have brushed this off, thinking 'eww pervert'. But because of what ive been through, i dunno its triggered me so bad.
But most of all.....i hate myself!!!!!!! Since my r* i've said to myself should anything ever happen similar or where i feel threatened i am going to stand up for myself and fight. Im going to be brave. Today i literally just stood there, scared little girl, telling him 'sure thats ok! and yeah sure we can meet!' WHAT THE FUCK! i'm such a coward, i feel like someone should just shoot me i'm so pathetic.
Im also now wondering, do i attract people that are sick and twisted in the head???? Do i have victim written on my forehead? Am i set up for a lifetime of abuse, or inappropriate sexual behavior towards me?
Maybe i should just allow people to abuse me, if thats all i am worth
I don't know what to do 
I haven't spoken much about the events that brought me to blogger, or what happened on that fateful day. I have a hard time accepting the truth, it's kind of hard to write about when you feel like what your writing never happened. But tonight i find myself awake thinking of one moment. A moment that on the 23rd of October, maybe lasted less than 20 seconds. The moment i tried to escape from my attacker.
It's got me thinking about that moment in many horror movies where the girl, the victim, makes a break for it. Usually its a hot skinny blonde with ginourmous boobs, running in some scary woods wearing nothing but an oversized male shirt. The stereotypical murderer with some freaky-ass mask and terrifying weapon is lurking near by. Before she tries to escape she's normally hiding somewhere, trying to assess the situation, assess the amount of danger she is in. By this point she is afraid but not completely sure about what the hell is going on and just how much danger she is in. Amid the confusion something inside of her tells her there's a good chance she's going to get really hurt. Flight or fight mode kicks in, and typically, shes tries to escape....
....In that moment, she is grabbed from behind and pulled back. Always in movies the camera focus' on the girls face, never the attacker, always the victim. Because her face tells a thousands words, you can see the look in her eyes that she knows she is about to get hurt. That face can be pretty terrifying, more terrifying than the axe murderer in fact. Some actresses are pretty good at pulling this horrific 'face' off. I wonder if in real life anyone has ever caught on camera the real look of a person who is about to be pulled back. The look of the girl who knows what comes next.
In my story there is no ugly mask murderer, there are no woods, there is no fake boobed blonde bombshell. But there is the attempt of escape. Injuring myself as i tried to slip from his clutches. There is the moment i felt his hands grab my waist and pull me back and im pretty certain....there is that face.
No one knows what my face looked like, i couldn't see it, 'he' couldn't see it, there were no audience who could see it. I can't help but think about what it might have looked like.
My mum has often said to me that no one will ever truly understand the horrors of what happened to me on that day, in that room because no one else was there. If it were in a movie, would they be horrified? Would they be afraid for me? Would they cover there eyes with their hands whilst still peering through the gaps in their fingers so they don't miss what's happening? Would they understand better the trauma that consumes me each and every day? Perhaps they wouldn't find it that scary, i often minimise and invalidate my experience to myself maybe there is a reason why i do that, maybe it wasn't all that bad? There was no axe murderer, there was no weapons used, there was no blood curdling scream.
Is it strange that i sometimes feel the desire for people to see it, to see their reaction?
I guess this is me looking for validation again! A stage i can't seem to pass. I don't know how to begin accepting what has happened to me and validating to myself, that my experience WAS bad, that it WAS horrific and that i have every right to feel hurt and traumatised...
and most importantly, have the right to heal.
I don't think i will ever watch horror movies in the same way as i used to. I don't think i can ever forget the look upon their faces. THAT is where the horror in horror movies come from. Next time you watch a horror, don't fear the bad guy.....fear that face.
