Why me?

I try to be strong. I'm trying to 'move on' with my life. I can't change what happened to me, but I can choose to not let it affect my future. I reported my abuse and rape. The CPS decided that there wasn't enough evidence to charge him with my rape. Nothing I can do about that, so I'm focussing on the fact that they have charged him with my abuse - 20 of the charges that he is facing are against me. I can't change the fact that I was raped, but I can choose to not live my life as a victim. And for the most part, I am. I am focussing on the upcoming trial, and I am focussing on healing myself.

But sometimes... sometimes I have moments where I am filled with despair and I think "why me?". I get angry. I see my friends living their lives, and I am happy for them. They are getting married, starting a family. They are going out partying. They are worrying about exams. It's the life I should be living, if none of this had happened to me. As much as I hate to admit it, I envy them, each and every one of them. I don't for a second wish anyone harm - I just wish that I could be living that life, instead of worrying about facing my rapist in court.

I should be graduated from university by now. I should have a job. I should be happy.

At the same time, I am aware that everything happens for a reason. I trust in God. And because of what happened, I have met some amazing people. Had I not been raped, I would not have met some of the people that I consider to be my close friends. My friends are amazing and bring a lot of joy in to my life, and I am so glad that they are a part of my life. In that respect I feel lucky.

That doesn't stop me from wondering what my life would have been like if I had never met him (but if somehow, my friends were still a part of my life). I wouldn't be plagued with nightmares. I wouldn't jump at a loud noise. I wouldn't flinch at an unexpected touch. I wouldn't find it so hard to trust people.

I don't often have these moments where I cry about the injustice of it all, but sometimes I can't help it. Sometimes I want to scream in anger at the hand that I've been dealt. I want to scream at him for what he's done to me. I want to scream for my lost childhood. I want to scream at a society that instead of teaching men not to rape, it teaches girls not to get raped. I just want to scream.

If I close my eyes, I can almost picture the woman that I could have been. Happy. Trusting. Full of life. A wicked sense of humour. I know that she is in there somewhere, and that slowly I am finding her. I just wish I didn't have to find her. I wish I hadn't been abused and raped, and that I didn't have to work so hard to overcome being a rape victim.

I know that there is nothing that can be done about my past. I know there is no point in saying "why me?". I know I should be looking forwards, not backwards. And for the most part I do look towards the future - the future where I have become that happy, carefree woman inside me that is fighting to get out. But sometimes, even knowing that there is no point, I can't help it, I think about the life I could have lived up until now and I want to know; why me?

I want to worry about normal things. I want to worry about exams, about relationships, about the next party. I don't want to worry about trying not to flinch when I am touched. I don't want to worry about having flashbacks. I don't want to worry about seeing my rapist.

I just want to be a normal girl living a normal life.

Instead, I am a statistic - I am one of the 20% of women that have been raped.

It is not fair, I know this. I know there is no reason. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But that doesn't stop me fantasing about the life I could be leading. It doesn't stop me from asking the question, even though I know there is no answer to it.

Why me?

Another interview

I've just heard from my police liason officer. It seems he doesn't want any more reports from my psychologist. This is good. What he does want is another statement. I'm unsure how I feel about this.

He said that the investigation is slowly coming to an end, but there are two things that need to happen. One involves him, so he can't tell me what that is. The other involves me. My liason officer said that the Criminal Prosecution Service brought some things to their attention, so they need to interview me again.

Now he won't tell me what it's about due to its sensitive nature. Instead he's asked to come up again to interview me, which shouldn't take more than 2 hours.

I have to admit, I'm nervous. The last interview I did was absolutely exhausting. I had to relive everything. I had to give intimate details about all the abuse and the rape. It was horrible. The only thing that kept me going was knowing I won't have to do it again, until the trial (if there is one).

Now it seems like I have to give another statement. Which has me worried - did I forget to mention something? Have I blocked something from my mind and so didn't mention it?

I wish he could tell me what this is all about. It will give me time to emotionally prepare myself. But for some reason he can't tell me until he sees me. Which means that all sorts of scenarios are racing through my mind. And there's no possibility of me trying to prepare myself.

Do they need me to be unprepared so that they can capture my reactions?

It's probably nothing, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to be thinking about all the possibilities until I'm interviewed again. Add to that, he said that the investigation is nearing the end. This means that soon I will know whether we're going to trial or not. To say that my emotions are running high is an understatement. Soon I will know, one way or another, what my future will bring.

Why?

I wonder about him sometimes. I wonder about what happened to him to turn him in to the man that he is. What causes a man to find children attractive? What causes a man to be so selfish that he thinks nothing of destroying innocence?

True, when he raped me I was 17. I was hardly a child. But the abuse started long before that. He sought me out as a child, he found me attractive as a child. I was a child. I was 12 years old - how can a man be attracted to a 12 year old?

I try to forget what happened between those years of meeting him and him raping me. Sometimes it's easier to think of the rape, than the years of abuse. It's difficult to think that not only am I a 'rape victim' (or 'rape survivor') but I am also a victim of child sexual abuse. Sometimes the weight of that weighs heavily. It's difficult to think about my childhood, because the abuse was interlinked with almost everything.

Don't get me wrong, the rape was horrible. It was devastating. Not just because he was my first, but because I knew then that I had no control of my body, that people are capable of taking with no regard for others. Those few hours haunt me, and I don't think I will ever quite 'get over it'.

But he tainted every part of my childhood. I have happy memories of my childhood, of course I do. But at the edge of every happy memory, he is lurking.

And I wonder, what made him become so evil? What made him not care that he was hurting me? I know people are selfish, I understand that. But what makes someone so selfish that they can abuse and hurt another human being for years? What makes someone so cold that they don't care about the damage that they are causing?

This man is a father himself. I think that's what gets to me the most. He has a daughter. How can he hurt someone else's child the way he did, when he would lay his life down for his own child?

What went through his mind as he was hurting me? Or did I just truly not matter to him at all. Was I completely inconsequential to him? Did I not even register as human to him?

I want to know why he did it. Because the answer that he is a pedophile just isn't enough.

Me