11 years

I'm taking a moment today.  A moment to breathe, a moment to think & reflect, a moment to remember.

My sexual abuse happened over the space of 5 years.  The abuse culminated in me being raped in the back seat of his car when I was 17 years old.  It was 11 years ago today that I was raped.  For me, this date is always a difficult one.  In the past I would hide away.  I would stay in my bed, I would be flooded with memories; I would drown in the memories.

Today is different.  Today I am looking at how far I have come.  And I have come pretty damn far. 

With help from my family, friends & the police, I was able to face my abuser in court.  It was one of the most difficult experiences of my life - but I did it.  I put my abuser behind bars.  I started to heal & look after myself.  I started taking better care of myself - physically, emotionally & spiritually.  

Gone is the woman that tried to make herself invisible.  Gone is the woman that was afraid of men.  Gone is the woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Instead, here is the woman that is loud and proud.  Here is the woman with a wonderful, caring, kind & supportive boyfriend.  Here is the woman that is ready to seize life and live it.

Don't get me wrong - it is still a pretty emotional day for me and I'm not quite on my 'A' game.  I listened to some music and had a cry.  But that's okay.  I have turned into a strong woman, and have come to understand that there is strength in crying.  In truth, I feel a lot better for letting it all out.  

Today I am looking back at my journey and acknowledging the strength and determination it took to get here.  Today I am realising that I am one hell of a woman with a bright future ahead of me.

11 years ago today was one of the worst days of my life.  Today, I am happy.  I am amazed at how far I have come.  Today, I am proud of myself.  

Til It Happens To You

It's been a while since I last posted.  In all honesty, I wasn't planning on making any new posts.  I have closed the chapter on that part of my life - instead of living in the past, I am living in the now and focussing on my future.  Life is good.  Really good.

Sitting here now, I've had to stop and think about how many years ago the trial was.  Almost 3 years.  It feels like a life-time ago.  I have been living - and loving - my life.  It hasn't been smooth-sailing, there's been a lot of ups and downs.  My health isn't great - Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome being the main culprit (frequent joint dislocations, chronic pain, fatigue, migraines etc.).  Learning to live with an ever-worsening condition isn't fun, but (mainly thanks to my family & friends) it's manageable, and with physiotherapy I've managed to put the "worsening" part on hold for a while.  There have been problems with my family's health as well, and losing my Nana (this year) has been devastating.

However.  It is important to cherish the good parts of life - and there have been many good parts.   I'm now in my third year of university - finally!  The end result (my degree) is within sight!  Very exciting.  I'm no longer a social recluse - I have a fantastic set of people around me and am thoroughly enjoying going out & being with my friends (when I'm physically able to do so).  I have a beautiful Goddaughter that I love very much.  Her cheeky smile can brighten up anyone's day.  I've moved in to my own place - and am loving every minute of it.  I've been extremely lucky in that I've been able to travel with my family to wonderful and exotic places.  I've also started dating again.  And you know what?  Dating is fun!

Of course, there are moments.  These are happening less and less, thankfully.  However, I suspect they will never quite go away - what happened to me will always be there.  It's a part of my life and always will be, but I refuse to let it be the defining part of my life.  So when those moments do happen, it's important to acknowledge them, remind yourself how far you've come, deep breaths and then move on.  Of course, some moments last longer than others, and that's okay too.  But there's a fine line between acknowledging the moment and wallowing in it.  Believe me, I've done my fair share of wallowing in the past.  Whilst it was needed at the time, it is not a place I want to return to.  Nor is it a place that I have to fight to stay away from - I am genuinely happy within myself.  I love myself.  I respect myself.  I am confident and I have self-esteem.  I am a far cry from the woman I was 3 years ago.  And I am pretty proud of how far I've come.

To anyone reading this that feels like things are never going to get better, that you will never be able to "move on" (I hate that expression) - you will.  It takes time and energy and hard work, but you will.  Don't give up.  If need be, call a help-line (personally, the Samaritans worked for me), call a friend.  Talk to someone.  Reach out.  Because remember: you are not alone.

Okay, enough rambling.  This was only supposed to be a short entry!  Moving on to the reason for writing this post.

I've just watched Lady Gaga's new video "Til It Happens To You".

Luckily, there is a warning on the video so I was able to prepare myself.  But...

Holy cow.

Bloody hell.

It's a good video.  It's a really, really good video.  It's a video that needs to be seen, that needs to be talked about.  Because in all honesty, this shit needs to stop.

We're living in the 21st century - this should not be a common crime, it should not be an accepted crime and it should most definitely not be a crime where it is the victim that is blamed.  Ever.

Watching this video brought back unpleasant memories (to say the least).  However, for me personally, the ending is very powerful.  The message is loud and clear: unless you have personally experienced sexual assault or rape, you can't possibly imagine what it is to go through it.  For a time, it is a living hell.  However - whilst you can't understand, you can help bring someone back from their living hell, just by being there and being a supportive friend.  Don't bail when you're most needed.  Be there.

There is still a long way to go, but steps are being made.  Recently schools have started teaching young boys and girls (separately) how to avoid rape - by telling the young boys that if they see it happening to intervene.  They are teaching these young boys to respect women and to accept that no means no.  They are teaching them that rape is bad.  They are teaching them to not stand by, but to act.  And it's working.  More schools need to implement these programmes so that the survivors (both women & men) do not feel shame or blamed for being sexually assaulted.  There are a lot of mindsets that need changing.  A hell of a lot.  But slowly, we're getting there.

Because videos like this by popular artists are keeping this topic in the spotlight.  They keep the discussion going and they are supporting the ever-growing movement and they are slowly challenging the mindset of the group of people that believe that sexual assault or rape is sometimes justifiable.  No matter if the perpetrator is a male or female (or anything in between) or the victim is a male or female (or anything in between) - it is NEVER the survivor's fault.  Ever.

If you want to watch this very powerful video, here you go.  IMPORTANT: TRIGGER WARNING

This affects men too

This video is amazing.  It's just under 20 minutes long, and it is fantastic.  (If you don't have time to watch all of it, start from about 3.50 - however, the entire video is amazing, so if you have the time - do watch it all!)

For those that say that men can't be feminists - watch this video.  For those that say that gender violence is a "women' issue", watch this video.

For those that want to stand up for what is right - watch this video.

For those that think feminism has no place in modern society - watch this video.

For those that think that men aren't affected by our patriarchal society - watch this video.

Don't really know what more to say - but watch this video (especially if you're a man).

Victim Blaming

I should never have to write a post about victim blaming.  Our society should support victims, should listen to them, and should help them.  Instead, our society says "it's your fault for getting raped.  You should have known better.  You shouldn't have put yourself in the sort of situation that leads to rape."

Our society never blames the rapist.  In fact, our society sympathises with rapists.  You only need to look at the reactions to the Steubenville rape case recently.  The public supported the rapists - after all, they're just young boys that don't know the difference between right and wrong.  How could they possibly know that repeatedly having sex with an unconscious girl was rape?  How could they possibly know that urinating on said girl was abusive?  How could they possibly know that laughing about raping her and filming themselves raping her was wrong?

There was a huge public outcry.  Not, I might add, to demand justice, but to demand leniency for the rapists.  Those poor boys have had their lives destroyed.  Those poor boys are now in jail.  Those poor boys.

What about the poor girl?  She was raped.  Those 'poor boys' forced themselves on her.  They took advantage of her.  Their lives were destroyed?  What about hers?  She has to live with the knowledge that her peers are calling her a slut and wishing that she would die.  People took to twitter to wish her dead.  People said that the boys had learnt their lessons and it wasn't worth ruining their lives over.  Even celebrities backed the rapists, by claiming it was the girl's fault for drinking too much.

That's right, of course!  By having a few drinks you're telling everyone around you that you want to have sex, that you want people to have sex with you while you're unconscious, that you want to be urinated on and that you want to be filmed being abused.  Silly me, how could I forget? 

After all, you have to be so careful nowadays.  Don't wear revealing clothes - but don't look like a prude either.  Don't sleep around - but sleep with enough people so you're not a 'tease'.  Don't walk home alone, don't walk home with acquaintances - in fact, don't walk home at all.  But don't take a taxi either - because the taxi driver might not be able to resist you.  Don't make yourself 'too attractive' so you won't attract the wrong kind of attention.  But don't look ugly either - because if you don't fit society's idea of attractiveness, then you're lucky to get raped in the first place.  After all, only attractive people get raped.

I know, how about instead of having all of these do's and don'ts for potential victims, we have only one rule for potential rapists?  DON'T RAPE.  There, simple.

I'm sick and tired of hearing people blame the victims.  WE ARE NOT AT FAULT.

And it's exactly this attitude - this victim blaming - that stops rape victims from coming forward.  It's why I waited 5 years after the abuse ended to finally tell the truth.  It's why I never said anything while it was happening.  Because I knew that I would be blamed.  I was 12 when it started, but I knew that it was my fault.  Because, after all, only 'sluts' (I hate that word) get raped.  Only bad girls are abused.

I waited for years because I was afraid that no one would believe me.  As it turns out, it was right that I waited.  It took those 5 years to build up my strength and courage.  As a young victim, I would not have been able to handle the backlash that was sent my way.  Close friends asking me 'why I didn't just put a stop to it'.  A friend's boyfriend asking me 'who would want to rape you?'.  Someone even told me that they think most rape charges are false and that the guys (ie RAPISTS) are hard done by.  Being told that the rape charges were being dropped as it was a case of 'he said she said'.  The child abuse chargers were accepted, and we went to trial.  At trial it felt like I was raped all over again.  My life was scrutinised.  I was accused of being a liar, told that I was making things up; that it was a fantasy in my head.

(Please not - I am SO glad to have finally told people.  Because most people stood by me - my family, my friends that mattered, and the police.  I was believed.  I was able to finally start healing.  I stood up to him.  I took my power, my life, back.)

Every day, survivors are having to stand up and fight to be heard, to put the blame where it really lies - on the rapist.  We are having to explain what it means to be raped.  We have to explain, over and over and over again, why it is NOT OUR FAULT.  We are having to shout I DID NOT WANT TO BE RAPED.  And time and time again we are ignored.  Time and time again people stand by the rapist.  

There is so much evidence out there that clearly show that as a society, we criminalise a rape victim and support the rapist.  You only need to look at that time a judge stated in court that it wasn't a real rape, but just a technical rape.  Or read the statistics that explain why cops don't believe rape victims.  Or read this beautifully written blog entry written by a rape survivor, explaining how she was raped.  Or read this disgusting article blaming Nigella Lawson for being the apparent victim of domestic violence. Or type in Google 'rape victim blamed' or 'rape victim shaming'.  The results should disgust you.

I just do not understand why, in this day and age, we are still victim blaming.  We are enlightened in so many ways, and yet we are still failing so miserably.  We are putting the blame on the victim, instead of on the person that committed the crime.  In what kind of world does that make any sort of sense?

The problem

All in all, I'm doing alright.  I'm getting my life back on track.

But sometimes I feel as if I'm not doing it fast enough.  I feel as if people are thinking "you've got the guilty verdict, you've got the amazing sentencing, everything worked out so much better than expected - so why aren't you healed?  Move on with your life already".

I feel like there is a huge expectation for me to suddenly be magically better.  It feels like I shouldn't have any problems anymore.  It seems like people expected all of my problems to disappear with the guilty-verdict.  I can see their point - the perpetrator of those crimes is behind bars, and will be for a long, long time.  Believe me - that thought alone still makes me want to do a little happy dance and shout with joy.  I feel like my life is just starting while his is over.

So what's the problem, you ask?

The problem is I still have nightmares.  The problem is that I still have triggers that will bring back a memory I'd rather not remember.  Not a flashback - those are awful, and thankfully, they are very infrequent - but a very vivid memory.  One can pop up at any time and knock the breath out of me.  I still haven't figured out all the triggers - certain music, a turn of phrase, a topic of conversation, a smell, a picture...

The problem is that his face still pops in to my mind when I close my eyes.  I'm not scared of him anymore, I could look him in the eye.  But it's still not a face I want in my mind before going to sleep.

The problem is that I still flinch.  I'm still wary.  I still don't trust.

I want more than anything to be 'normal'.  To go to bed before 4am and wake up before noon.  To finish university, to hold a steady job, to be able to provide for and look after myself.  I'm getting there, slowly.  But it's going to take time.  Hopefully by the time university starts again in October, I'll be ready.

But right now, I'm not.  I know full well that I am still a mess.

Memories that I had buried, are now coming to the surface.  I'd rather forget them.

I feel like people expect me to be better and to be this strong woman that can handle anything, when in fact, I still have days where I can barely bring myself to get out of bed.

I know there comes a point where "enough is enough and you need to move on".  The last thing I want to do is 'bore' people with what's going around my head, especially when people have their own things going on.  I don't want to be that person that can't move on with their life.  I don't want to be that person that people avoid talking to because they're stuck in the past.

But at the same time - I'm not magically healed.  There is no set healing time for 5 years of abuse, and rape.  It will take time.  I am going to have bad days.  I am going to be triggered about something.  But I am also going to pick myself up after a bad day and do my damned hardest to make the next day a good day.

The bottom line?  I don't want to be a burden on my friends and family.  I don't want them to feel like I'm wallowing.  I want to get my life back on track.  I know that if I stay in the past, I'll stay hurt and I'll stay a victim.  I can't heal unless I'm in the present and looking towards the future.  I'm working on it.  It's just not always easy.

One Billion Rising

It's been almost a month since I last wrote in here.  Not because I didn't have anything to say, but just because I wanted to take a break for a bit.  For the past two years my life has revolved about being either a rape victim or a rape survivor, and writing about it.  For the past month, I've just wanted to be me - I wanted to feel the emotions, and not have to describe and explain them.  I just wanted to 'be' for a while.

So, I've taken the break, and now I'm back.  What have I been doing?  I'm currently training to become a First Aider with St John's Ambulance.  The course is fantastic and I'm thoroughly enjoying it.  However, it's not easy going.  I still struggle with depression and insomnia, which means that getting up early to go to the classes isn't easy.  In fact, it's left me very drained and exhausted, and I've had to reschedule the exam.  I'm not giving up though - baby steps.

I know most people reading this will think I'm being a drama queen; 'you struggle with getting up in the morning?  Join the club.  You're just lazy'.

This is not the case.  I have insomnia, which means I struggle to get to sleep.  An average night for me looks like this: I go to bed at 9pm.  I falls asleep, and then wake up at 10.pm.  I lie in bed, tossing and turning.  I fall asleep at 3am.  I wake up at 4am.  I fall asleep at 4.30am.  I wake up at 5.30am.  I fall asleep at 6.30am.  My alarm goes off at 7am.

I've quit smoking for over 2 months.  I've been spending a lot of time with my friends.  And I've been involved with One Billion Rising.

One Billion Rising is happening tomorrow all over the world.  Why 'One Billion Rising?'.  Because it's estimated that One Billion women will be either raped or abused in their lifetime.   This is unacceptable.  So, all over the world, women and men are coming together in protest.  There will be dancing, there will be speeches, and hopefully there will be change.

If you're interested in attending one near you, why not click on THIS LINK.

Some of the banners we made for the rising tomorrow

I'm really looking forward to tomorrow.  I hope there will be a good turnout - a hell of a lot of planning and organising has gone in to it (my part in it has been tiny).  It is a cause that is very close to my heart - it is time we stopped living in a society where women are STILL considered second class citizens.

So come on people, find where there will be a rising tomorrow, and join!  But most importantly - have fun whilst rising!

Short entry

Tomorrow is the sentencing.  Tomorrow I will see him.  And he will see me.

The Probation Service have given their recommendation for his sentencing, and tomorrow we will find out what it is.  The sentencing is at 10am.  I'll be meeting my Police Liaison Officer beforehand.  She's said there might be one or two police officers around with us.  Just in case.

I will admit it - I'm nervous.  Very nervous.  Slightly scared and intimidated.  But I'm also determined.  And strong.  I am going to walk in there tomorrow with my head held high.  I am a survivor.  He did not destroy me.  I am going to face up to my nightmare.  I am not scared of him.  I will face him.  I will look him right in the eye and show him that I am not afraid.

More waiting

We drove down South on the 3rd, it was a 7 hour drive.  We stayed over at my Grandparents' house, and on the 4th we drove to the courthouse.  It was weird being back in the witness area.  The last time I was there, I was full of uncertainty and just praying and hoping that the jury would find him guilty.

This time around, I was getting myself ready for finally facing him, for looking him in the eye and showing him that he did not break me, that I am strong, that I have the rest of my life to live.

But as it turned out, that didn't happen.  He was meant to have been interviewed by the probation service in December, to see what - if any - type of threat he is.  The probation service didn't interview him.  Which meant the sentencing could not be done.  Which meant that we had come all this way for nothing.

It wasn't the police's fault, and it wasn't the judicial system.  It appears to just be one of those things, a mis-communication.  However, that doesn't make it any less frustrating.

I had geared myself up for seeing him.  I had hardly slept the previous night.  I was anxious, yet determined.  I was ready to face him.  And then I was told that that wasn't going to happen.  I was about ready to burst in to tears of frustration.

So we drove back up North.  Exhausted.

The new sentencing date is on the 16th of this month.

Tonight

I am very positive about the future, about my future.  I have no idea what will happen, but for the first time in a long time I feel like I actually have a future - I don't have this massive secret weighing me down, I don't spend all of my energy thinking about the trial.  I can actually put all of my energy in to fixing myself.

And that feels good.  So good.

However, it's going to be a long, long road.  Because the guilty verdict doesn't mean that I'll stop having flashbacks.  It doesn't mean that I'll stop hearing his voice in my head.  A guilty verdict doesn't undo what he did.  What a guilty verdict does mean is that I can finally stop being scared of him - he can never hurt me again.  A guilty verdict means that I can rebuild my life, and myself.  It means that I can finally start to heal.

But it is difficult.  Because people think 'why are you still depressed?  Why are you still suffering from PTSD?  Why are you still having nightmares?  He's behind bars, move on'.  They don't understand when I tell them that I'm still living with the consequences of his actions.  He is going to serve his time - justice has been won.  But I'm still living with the trauma.

It devastated me.  I don't often talk about it in detail, because I know how upsetting it is for my parents.  I know they read my blog, and I know that at times reading my blog is extremely painful for them.  But I need to tell the truth.

Childhood sexual abuse is devastating.  I was exposed to things I should never have been exposed to - not until I was sexually mature.  I wasn't, I was 12.  That is a long way from being sexually mature.  My view on sex was completely warped.  He taught me that love equals sex.  He taught me that friendship equals sex.  He taught me that my self-worth is intertwined with sex.  He taught me that in order to be valued, I need to give some sort of sexual favour.  Without sex, I was nothing.

He taught me that it doesn't matter whether or not I want to have sex - he would just take it anyway.  He made me rely on him completely.  He made me hate myself.

So I have a long, long way to go.  I am unlearning all of this filth that he taught me.  I am rebuilding myself.  I am learning to recognise healthy and non-healthy relationships.  I know that I am worth a hell of a lot better than the way I have been treated in the best.

In the past 13 years I have been looking to be loved, but I have been looking in all the wrong places.  I have clung on to anyone that showed me any sort of interest.  I have let myself be treated like dirt, because I thought that that was how you treated someone you love.  I thought that that was what love is.  I have done many, many things that I regret.  All because I was taught that the only way to be friends or to get someone to love me was by giving away my body.  So of course I attracted the wrong kind of people.

No more.  I am worth more than that.  I deserve better than that.  I deserve better than what I have been seeking.

I'm making a lot of steps towards a healthier, happier life.  But I still have a long way to go.  Tonight I am suffering from insomnia.  Tonight I had a flashback.  Tonight I head his voice.  But tonight I also realised that I wasn't scared.  That I am a survivor, and that life is going to get better.  Tonight I realised that I'm a lot stronger than I ever thought possible, and that I am worthy of happiness and love, and I sure as hell won't settle for anything else.

Still nothing

Still no verdict yet.  If there’s one thing I've learnt, it’s that the law moves extremely slowly.  Apparently the judge alone gave a 3 hour closing speech.  Three hours.  Is that a good thing?  Or a bad thing?

I’m terrified that he will be found not guilty.  Everyone keeps telling me that no matter what happens; I've done all I can.  It’s completely out of my hands.  I need to move on with my life.  I agree with them.  But it’s not that easy.

Have I really done all I can?  Could I have been a stronger witness?  If only I hadn't deleted all of his emails, his texts, his voice-mails etc.  But I was a stupid kid, I wanted him out of my life.  After he raped me, I wanted to wipe him out of existence.  The closest I could get was wiping any and all evidence of him out of my life.  I can see now that that was an incredibly stupid thing to do.  Had I kept everything of his, then this would be an open and shut case.

He claims we met when I was 16.  My diary disproves that, but so would the emails.

He claims it was never sexual.  All the pictures would have disproved that.

He claims I’m making it all up.  Again; the pictures, the emails and the texts would disprove that.

I’m kicking myself right now.  But I was so convinced that no one would believe me, that I would just put a lid on it and get on with my life.  I never thought I would report him or take him to court.  But I have.  And I wish I still had those emails and pictures and texts. 

What if the jury says he’s innocent?  All of this will have been for nothing.  Except that the police are aware of him.  But still… I have no doubt about the fact that if he’s found innocent, that it will have a big impact on him.  One of the most difficult things I've ever had to do was go to the police and report him, be questioned about him and go to court.  If he’s found innocent, it means that I wasn't believed.  That I would make something like this up, that I would lie after having sworn on the Holy Bible, that I’m a liar.

One of the worst things for a child abuse victim/rape victim is to not be believed.  Now I need to wait and see if these 12 strangers believe me, or him.

Because I told the truth on the stand.  I was sworn in.  I held the Holy Bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  And I did.  Even when it made me look bad, I told the truth.  He didn't, he couldn't have.  Unless he admitted it, which I doubt.  He couldn't be telling the truth if he's disputing everything that I've said.

And my Aunt told me that his daughter was in the court, in the gallery.  Who the fuck would bring their daughter to a trial like this?  She’s only a teen.  Why would he do that?  Why would he put her through that?  Why would his wife allow it?  It’s sick.  Just sick.

I also worry – did he hurt his daughter?  He hurt me, but does that mean that he hurt his daughter as well?

One of the things that I will have to live with for the rest of my life is knowing that he could have hurt someone else.  I could have stopped that from happening, if I had spoken up sooner.  I pray that he hasn't hurt someone else, but I just don’t know.  And that kills me.  I will have to live with the uncertainty and guilt for the rest of my life.

I’m worried.  I’m really worried.  I want to know the verdict so I can deal with it.  Right now I feel like I’m living in limbo. 

I just want this to be over

First day testifying

10:30am – I managed to get some sleep last night, but not much.  Kept waking up, had a lot of nightmares.  Dreamt about him.  He was chasing me, then caught me and he said ‘I’m very disappointed in you, this was meant to be our little secret, how could you do this to me?  Now you’ll never speak again’, and he ripped out my tongue.  It was horrible.

Right now I’m sitting in the witness area again.  I've had to give my permission for some medical details to be brought up, such as my PTSD.  Don’t really want him to know about it, but I am aware that it could help my case.  I’m realising very quickly that in a case like this, there is no such thing as privacy - my whole life is open to scrutiny.  Not his, but mine.

The witness area is quite busy, there are 4 other witnesses here today for various other cases.  Yesterday my parents and I were alone in the room, today we’re not.  It makes it more formal, more real somehow.

 

I’m also quite worried – I was told to apply for CICA, which I think stands for Criminal Injury Claim Association, or something like that, by my doctor.  So I applied for CICA.  I had never heard of it, and was told it’s the normal thing to do.  Now I've been told by the police that I shouldn't have done that, as the defense will say I’m making it all up for the money, which just isn't the case.  Yes, the money would help (seeing a psychologist is expensive, and that’s what I would spend the money on).  But if it came down to it, I want him to go to jail, I don’t want the money.

So stressed right now.  The fact that I have to read through my statement again and again isn't helping.  I’m reading myself describing the years of abuse over and over.  It’s not pleasant.  I want this to be over.

11:25am – I’m getting much better at this waiting game.  I've been in the witness area for almost 2 ½ hours.  I’m still very anxious and nervous, but I’m not in the same state as I was yesterday.  I’m managing to read my book (which is just some trashy chick-lit I picked up at a service station on the way down).  Time is moving a bit faster than yesterday, probably because I’m not pacing the room and twiddling my thumbs.

I just want this to be over, though.  I’m still dreading being cross-examined.  I've seen enough movies to know that the defense is going to put me through the wringer.  Everyone keeps telling me that it’s nothing personal, that she’s just doing her job.  I know this.  But at the same time, for me it is personal.  She is fighting to free the monster that abused me for 5 years and raped me.  How is that not personal?

She is defending the man that ruined my childhood.  She is protecting the man that stole my innocence.  She is sticking up for the man that raped me.  And she will be attacking me, the one that was sexually abused from the age of 12.

So yes, I know she is just doing her job.  But to me it is personal.  How can it not be?

1:10pm – I've been testifying.  The court has broken up for lunch, I've had a cigarette and some water.  I can’t eat.  I feel sick to my stomach.  It’s worse than I thought.  It’s absolutely terrifying.  And I've only been questioned by the prosecution.  If that was bad, how bad is the defense going to be?  I keep looking at the jury thinking; ‘you are going to decide whether he goes to jail or not.  You are going to decide whether he’s guilty or not’.  They’re normal; they look like normal people, nothing distinguishing about them.  Just members of the public.  They probably don’t even want to be here.  And they’re going to decide his future, and mine.

So far we haven’t gone in to detail.  E. (my barrister) has been asking me questions about my childhood; where I grew up, how many languages I speak, what subjects I took at school etc.  Then near the end she started asking about how old I was when I first met him online, what we talked about (in the beginning it was the current bands – the Spice Girls – and school, Eastenders, things like that.  After a few months it turned sexual, but gradually, so it seemed normal).

I was shaking the entire time.  Absolutely shaking.  I kept thinking, he’s in the same room as me.  He’s listening to this.  He’s in the same damn room as me.  It’s horrible, knowing that your abuser, your rapist, is sitting mere feet from you.  Yes, I can’t see him as I’m sitting behind a screen.  But I know he’s there, listening. 

I hate this.  I want it over.

6:10pm – It was awful.  I’m in my hotel room right now, after being interrogated for 2 ½ hours.  It was horrendous.

First the prosecution interviewed me, which was difficult in itself.  I had to say exactly what happened; what he did, what he made me do etc.  It was horrible and humiliating.  Then the prosecution had her turn.  It was horrendous.  I was preparing myself for the worst, and it was so much worse than that.

She told me that in reality, he and I had only conversed for up to 9 months, not 5 years.  That we had started talking when I was 16.  That it was never sexual.  I kept saying ‘no, no, no’ to everything.  But she made me out to be a complete liar.  Then she used some stories that I had written – I used to fancy myself as an author – and said that if I could write those, then I obviously had a good imagination and could go down to the smallest detail, just like I was doing with this case.  That it was all in my head.

She said I was doing it for the money (the CICA thing).  That I was exaggerating.  On and on and on, until I broke down crying.  It was absolutely horrendous.  And the worst part is, I have no idea if the jury believed her.  It really could go either way.  She was so convincing.

But, the good part?  I now have no feelings whatsoever about him.  I no longer care about him.  At all.  I don’t want to protect him.  I don’t want to make his life easier.  I despise him.  I utterly despise him.  I know I need to work on that, I need to find it in myself and in God to forgive him.  But right now, I hate him.

At 4:30 I was told I could leave, but that I had to go back tomorrow.  I went back to the witness area, saw my parents and burst in to tears again.  I am now completely drained.

6:20pm – I've had a few thoughts.  The first – I kept diaries as a child.  I threw most of them out, or they got lost in the move from Belgium to England.  But I know I kept one from when I was 13 or 14.  I asked a friend up North (who has the keys to our house) to search for it.  They found it!!  I have no idea what I wrote, but he was such a big part of my life, so I must have written about him.  They’re posting it up to the hotel, so that I can give it to the police tomorrow. At least it will prove that he’s a liar, that we were talking when I was younger than 16.

The other thing that keeps going round in my head is that he’s saying we've never met, that we only talked online for at most 9 months.  Complete and utter bullshit.  He admitted to the police when he was first questioned that when I was 17 we had sex.  He said it was consensual.  It wasn't.  But in his statement he said that we had sex.  But I’m not allowed to bring that up.  Why the fuck not?  It would show that he’s a liar.  The law is protecting him, the rapist, not me, the victim.  Why the fuck am I not allowed to mention it, but not use the word ‘rape’?  It would show the jury that he’s a liar, that he lied about that so he’s lying about the rest.

I told the truth.  The whole painful truth, even when it made me look bad.  I told the truth.  So why the fuck can I not point out something that obviously proves he’s a liar?

Okay.  Breathe.  Calm down.  I’m just so frustrated.  Today was hell.  It was 100 times worse than I was expecting.  It was horrendous.  At first I was upset, I cried, I was shaking.  Now I’m furious.  Why does the law protect him and not me?

I’m also wondering why I bothered to report it.  The defense asked that question as well.  She said something along the lines of ‘if what you say is true, why didn't you report it immediately, why wait until you were in your 20s – he could have done it to someone else’.  That is something that I will always blame myself for – if he’s done it to someone else.  But I was scared and at first I didn't realise it was abuse and rape.  Then I thought too much time has passed to do anything about it.  It was only when I told my parents and they believed me and asked me if I wanted to report it, that I realised I really did want to report it.

But seriously, I've just been put through hell.  And the jury might believe him.  So what was the point?

I’m exhausted.  I’m drained.  I want to go home.

6:55pm – I keep going over and over in my head what I was asked, and the answers I should have given.  I can think of so many better answers.  I’m kicking myself.  I wish the justice system was like in America, where the lawyers are allowed to prepare you and give you practice questions and anticipate what the defense will ask.  I was completely unprepared, and I fear I've ruined it.

8:30pm – Memories are coming flooding back.  Things I don’t want to remember.  I’m trying to get to sleep.  I’m so tired.  But every time I close my eyes, I’m flooded with memories.  I want to forget.  But I can’t.  And I’m remembering more and more, it’s horrible.

Travelling down

I wasn't allowed to update this blog while the trial was going on, and I wasn't allowed to talk to anyone until the jury had reached a verdict.  However, I still kept a record of what was going on, and wrote everything down in a Word document.  I’m now posting what I wrote on the days that it happened.   I apologize for the swearing, but these are my actual feelings at the time that I wrote it.

18/11/12, evening

So the defense have managed to get their hands on my blog.  That means that for the duration of the trial, I can’t update it.  Instead, I’m following the advice of a friend and writing it in a Word document, to post online later.

I’m currently in London.  The drive down wasn't too bad – I was asleep for the entire journey (didn't get much sleep the night before).  I’m now sitting in my hotel room, reading, surfing the net, watching TV; anything to keep me distracted, to stop me thinking about tomorrow.

I’m absolutely terrified.  I’m now wondering if the defense will use my blog against me.  I don’t think they will, as all I've written about are my feelings.  I don’t regret starting my blog and writing in it – it shows everything that I’m going through.  I am not ashamed of being abused and raped. I am not ashamed of suffering from depression and PTSD.  I am not ashamed of anything that I have done that is a direct (or indirect) result from the years of abuse.  They are a true reflection of everything that has happened to me since the abuse and since going to the police. I will not be quiet; I will not hide in the corner.  I was sexually abused as a child.   I was raped as a teenager.  That is not my fault, and I will not sugar-coat any of the effects it has had on me.

This is my blog.  I am a rape survivor and this is my journey to recovery.  We live in a rape-culture society, and I will NOT sit in a corner and quietly try and fix myself.  I will NOT stay quiet in case I offend someone or make someone uncomfortable.  We live in a society where women are taught not to get raped, instead of teaching men not to rape.  My story (and other stories like mine) need to be heard if there is any chance of changing the view that ‘women ask for it’.

Anyway.  I’m scared.  I will admit that.  I am terrified.  Tomorrow I testify.  Tomorrow I will have to relive 5 years of abuse in front of total strangers.  I will do it.  But I am terrified.

11.55pm – I've been trying to get to sleep for the past hour and a half.  No luck.  I’m absolutely exhausted, but sleep just won’t come.  No surprise there.  My parents said I could wake them up if I couldn't sleep – they would keep me company.  But in all honesty, I just want to be alone right now.  I’m terrified about tomorrow.

Hopefully I’ll just have to testify the one time.  But it’s possible that I could be called to the stand again, unless the judge dismisses me.  I hope he dismisses me tomorrow.

I’m completely unprepared for tomorrow.  If I was in America then my lawyer would prepare me, would ask me the type of questions that the defense might ask me.  I've not even met my lawyer.  The way the system works in the UK, I have to be completely unprepared.  I have no idea what kind of questions the prosecution and the defense will ask.  It’s pretty daunting.

I’m also dreading having to describe the abuse in front of everyone.  It was hard enough giving the statement, and that was in front of 3 people (two of which I couldn't see, as they were filming it).  So yeh, I’m dreading it.

I’m also wondering what he is doing right now.  Is he as worried about tomorrow as I am?  More so?  And I hate myself for this, but a part of me feels sorry for him.  Part of me still cares about him.  I know that is the abused child in me talking.  I know he groomed me, he molded me into his perfect little victim and he didn't give a rat’s ass about me.  But a tiny part of me still cares about him.  And I hate myself for it.

It’s difficult to explain why.  I don’t even understand why.  This man stole my childhood, my innocence.  He abused me for 5 years and he raped me.  So why the hell is there a part of me that feels guilty for putting him through this, why do I feel like I’m betraying his trust?  It doesn't make any sense.  I want to see him rot in jail; I want to see him punished for what he did to me.  But I also feel sorry for him.

So yeh, my emotions are all over the place at the minute.

And it’s just hit me – if the defense has the link to my blog, then that means he does as well.  Has he read what I've said?  I don’t edit my blog – I say it how it is.  I want people to realise the devastation that abuse and rape causes, and the only way to do that is to be completely honest with myself and everyone that reads this.  Which I guess includes him now.

I hate the fact that he could read my blog.  He’s already taken so much from me, why did he have to take the place where I write my unedited feelings down?  Not only did he mold me in to his very own toy, not only did he steal my childhood and corrupt my view on relationships, now he’s taking the one place where I can write openly about the impact his abuse has had on me.

That really, really sucks.  But I’m not going to stop writing.  He made me this way, he made me weak.  I’m not weak anymore and I’m not going to let him stop me from writing this blog.  I will not be silenced.

As you can see, there are some very conflicting emotions there.  I hate him, I despise him.  But a tiny part of me still cares about him.  And I hate that part of me so much – but not as much as I hate him.  Which I guess shows just how much work I need to do to forgive him.  I'm no where near forgiving him yet.

29 days

The trial starts on the 19th November.  29 days from now.  I'm dreading it and want it to be over.  I've been having a lot of nightmares recently as well.  I think the closer the trial gets, the more difficulty I'll have sleeping.  Which isn't great, considering I have enough trouble sleeping as it is!

I'm dreading going on the stand and giving evidence.  I'm dreading being cross-examined by the defense.  I know that I will be put on trial, not him.  (That makes sense, right?  I mean, if someone was robbed then the victim would definitely be put on trial, not the robber...)  Anyway.

There is some good news though - the university has granted me my concession!  This means that I can start year 2 again in October 2013.  Fantastic news.  I had been quite worried that they would tell me that I would have to start from first year, or that I had to drop out altogether.  Can't fault my uni - they've been amazing.  Am SO pleased I can go back next year.

Even though I'm not at university, I've been going back to visit my friends.  I don't live to far, so it's easy enough to travel down to see them.  I definitely miss the social side of being at university, but I know that there is no way that I could be studying right now.  I really wanted to, I didn't want to take another year out. But it really is for the best - hopefully in a year's time I'll have managed to put this behind me and really be able to focus on my studying.

Next Tuesday one of the colleges at university will be showing the documentary "I Never Said Yes" in the evening.  It looks to be a very good documentary, with the reporter interviewing rape victims as well as those in authority about how the system is failing rape victims.  I think it will be difficult to watch, but I'm also looking forward to it.  I hope it's good - and I hope people turn up to see it.

Rape Jokes

Not so long ago, a friend of mine, Elin Box, wrote an article (link can be found at the end of this blog) about rape jokes.  It’s something I’ve been thinking about for quite a while.  Unsurprisingly, I have a lot to say about this topic.  (Note: I’m talking about rape jokes that are offensive to rape victims, not rape jokes that highlight what’s wrong with our attitude towards rape.)  But first, let me tell you about an experience I had with rape jokes as a fresher at university.

I was sitting with a group of people – as it was the first term, we were all just starting to get to know each other.  Most of those people have turned out to be really great friends, but at the time we were pretty much strangers to each other.  One of the guys started to make rape jokes.  Everyone laughed, or rolled their eyes.  I was extremely uncomfortable.  At this point, I had only told one person at university that I had been raped.  Rape joke after rape joke was told.  Even though they had no idea that I had been raped, I felt humiliated.  Being sexually abused and rape was a huge trauma, one that I’m still recovering from.  It was painful, it was humiliating, it was terrifying.  And here someone was, making jokes about rape and rape victims; about me.  Luckily, the friend that I had told saw my discomfort and told the joker to stop, which he did.

A lot of people don’t see what the big deal is about rape jokes.  It’s all just for fun, after all, they would never actually rape someone.  But it is a big deal.  It undermines the seriousness of rape – and in a society where we often blame the woman for being raped (unless she’s a virgin that dresses like a nun), rape really doesn’t need to be undermined any further.

How do we blame the women, you ask?  If a woman was wearing revealing clothes, she was obviously asking for it.  If a woman accepted a drink from a man, she was obviously asking for it.  If a woman walked home alone at night, she was obviously asking for it.  We live in a country that is great at victim blaming, which results in 83% of women not to report their rape to the police.  And even when they do go to the police, they run the risk of not being believed, or are made to believe that it was somehow their fault.  A man (often stronger than they are) overpowers you, you fear for your life, his penis is forced inside you, yet somehow it is still your fault.  Because we all know that ‘no’ actually means ‘yes’.

(Just on a side note – to all those people that say a woman dressing provocatively was asking for it.  She may have been looking for sex, but is it still not up to her to choose WHO she has sex with?)

So, back to rape jokes.  Most people say they would never tell a rape joke to a rape victim as that would be in bad taste.  I ask you – how do you know if someone has been raped or not?  1 in 10 women have been raped or sexually abused in the UK (the actual number is probably higher, as many women do not admit to being raped).  So if you’re telling a rape joke, chances are a rape victim is within earshot.   This will probably make her (or him) feel humiliated, as it did with me.  One of the most traumatic events (if not THE most traumatic event) of her life, being openly belittled, made fun of and joked about as if it’s not a big deal, as if it didn’t almost destroy her.

There’s also another angle that most people don’t consider.  What do rape jokes say to rapists?  That really, it’s no big deal.  I know most men wouldn’t rape anyone – but not all men.  Some men would rape and have raped.  Hearing rape jokes might give them the impression that what they did really isn’t such a big deal.  It’s just fodder for jokes.  No biggie.  Sure, it’s a crime, but it’s not really a big deal – especially since my mates down the pub make fun of rape victims, so they think the same way that I do; rape isn’t a big deal.  As someone pointed out (sorry, can’t remember the actual source) ‘women are always the butt of the jokes, never the perpetrator’.  What does it say about our society that we would rather make rape victims feel uncomfortable than the rapist, that we would rather side with rapist in mocking and degrading women, than respecting women?

Some people will still have a problem with me having a problem with rape jokes.  First, ask yourselves whether you're laughing at a joke, or at the idea of rape.  Why is it so important for you to make jokes about the degradation of women?  Why is it absolutely necessary for you to mock a painful & traumatic event?  Freedom of speech?  Or the need to justify the feelings that you have deep down – that women are beneath men and deserve having a penis forced in to them?

Right at the beginning of this entry, I said how some rape jokes are okay.  I know some people may be confused about this.  An example of a rape joke that I personally think highlights society’s view of rape:

• We need more rape jokes.  We really do.  Needless to say, rape, the most heinous crime imaginable, is a comic's dream.  It's because, it seems, when you do rape jokes, that the material is so dangerous and edgy.  The truth is, it's the safest area to talk about in comedy because who's gonna complain about a rape joke?  Rape victims?  They don't even report rape. - Sarah Silverman

Some rape victims and sexual abuse survivors also make rape jokes.  To them, it can be cathartic.  I have been known to use humour when talking about my rape.  For instance, I was talking with my cousin who said he didn’t really know how to talk to me about the rape.  I laughed and said “you can just imagine this in a sitcom couldn’t you?  Two people sitting on a couch in uncomfortable silence until one of them finally, awkwardly says, “so…. You were raped…”

Admittedly, it’s not very funny, but humour can help to put people – myself included – at ease.  There can be great power in some rape jokes, as Elissa Bassist said; “Rape jokes can be empowering.  They could help you reclaim control when you’ve lost something you’ll never get back, or has been damaged beyond repair.” 

And a few example of rape which I think make fun of the seriousness of rape and/or make fun of the rape victim (I would like to ask you to picture yourself telling these jokes to a rape victim, would you still find them funny then?):

• What do nine out of ten people enjoy?  Gang rape.
• What is rape anyway, other than surprise sex?
• Ladies, look on the bright side.  Being raped burns more calories than regular sex!

To end with, I would like to share with you a quote from comedian Meghan O’Keefe, about the whole ‘Tosh rape joke incident’.  (For those that don’t know – comedian Daniel Tosh said that rape jokes are always funny, they’re hilarious etc.  A woman in the audience shouted out that ‘rape jokes are never funny’, to which Tosh replied ‘wouldn’t it be funny if you were raped by like, five guys right now?  Like right now?’  The entire audience laughed and she was humiliated.  The girl’s friend wrote about it on Tumblr and it soon went viral).  Here’s the quote: 

"If Tosh honestly thinks rape is funny... well, that's his opinion.  That's his worldview.  What's disturbing is that this is a worldview that is violent and that lacks empathy.  What's even more disturbing is that he's not some unknown comic presenting an unpopular opinion.  He's one of the most popular and beloved comic acts in the country.  Which means that a huge percentage of our country thinks rape jokes are funny, but not because they admire Jeselnik's wordplay or Silverman's irony or Mulaney's empathetic juxtaposition.  They think rape jokes are funny because they think the act of physically hurting and sexually dominating a woman against her will is funny.

And it's not.  They're not laughing at a joke.  They're laughing at the concept of rape.  Rape is disturbing and horrible.  It's one of the horrors that we should keep at bay with humour, not encourage.  Right now, the woman who posted the complain about Tosh is receiving legitimate death and rape threats from his fans.  So his "joke" didn't diffuse pain or horror - it sparked it."

Sources:

Rape statistics: http://www.mumsnet.com/campaigns/we-believe-you-campaign-rape-myths-busted

Elin Box’s article: http://www.palatinate.org.uk/?p=24278

Elissa Bassist’s article: http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/07/11/why-daniel-tosh-s-rape-joke-at-the-laugh-factory-wasn-t-funny.html

Megan O’Keefe’s article: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/meghan-okeefe/daniel-tosh-rape-joke_b_1665121.html

Grief

I haven't written in here for a while. I haven't had the energy. I still don't. Someone extremely close to me passed away last month. I haven't been able to think about what's happening with the trial.

I'm going down to London this month to have a look at where the trial will be held. My Mum is coming with me. My liason officer suggested it would be a good idea, so that I don't feel overwhelmed when I'm on the stand in a strange place. He is going to talk me through the procedure.

I've been having quite a few nightmares.

It looks like I won't be going back to university. The uni have said that since the trial will be in November, I won't be able to focus on uni work. Which is fair enough. At first I was dissapointed - I'm desperate to graduate. But the more I think about it, the more I'm glad about it.

These past few months have been a blur. I feel numb. Apart from my nightmares, I haven't given the court case (and all the things that go with it) a second thought.

This entry isn't very long, I just don't have the energy to go in depth. I thought being sexually abused for 5 years and raped was the worst thing that could happen to me. Turns out I was wrong.

His plea

Normally, writing in here helps to keep me calm. It gives me the opportunity to sort through my thoughts and speak my mind. However, since I found out what my rapist is pleading, I've been feeling extremely deflated and haven't had the energy to write in here.

I found out on Wednesday that he has pleaded 'not guilty' to all accounts - including those charges where the evidence is rock solid. I honestly didn't expect him to plead not guilty to all 43 charges. So, we're definitely going to trial. A trial date has also been set, and arrangements have been made for me to visit the courthouse and the courtroom before the trial starts.

So, how do I feel about this? Shocked. Angry. Tired. Empty. I had always thought that he would plead guilty to the charges where the evidence is overwhelming, and not guilty to my charges. Now there is a chance - a tiny chance, but a chance nonetheless - that he could be found not guilty on all charges, and he could walk. In which case, this has all been for nothing.

Except, I must remember, it hasn't been for nothing. The people in his life have been made aware of the kind of person he is. He is now on the police radar. And I will face him - no longer is he a monster I my nightmares, but a man. A man that no longer has any control over me.

I will be honest - I am absolutely dreading the trial. I have heard so many horror stories about what the defence puts rape victims through on the stand. Instead of putting him on trial, my character and sexual history will be put on trial. I am dreading being interrogated by his lawyer. But, I know I am strong enough to handle it. I know I will probably break down and cry on the stand (something which I am not looking forward to) but it will not destroy me. I'm ready. Terrified, but ready.

I wish it was all over. I want to enjoy the few remaining weeks of university, I want to spend time with my friends. I want to enjoy the summer balls. I want to have fun, and not worry about facing the man that abused me for 5 years.

I will be behind a curtain, so he can't see me and I can't see him. Part of me is relieved. But part of me wants to see him. The last time I saw him was when he raped me. I have only ever seen him when he abused me. I would like to see him in a setting where I am safe, where he can't hurt me and where I can show him that he has no power over me. Maybe one day. I agreed with the decision to give my testimony from behind a curtain, because I know it would take a lot out of me to see him. But one day, I do want to see him, to prove to him and to myself that I am the stronger one. I want to see him so that every time I close my eyes I don't see his face when he's finished raping me.

So, yes. This week has been tough. I went home to gather my thoughts and get some much needed TLC. But, I am now ready to go back to university and enjoy the last couple of weeks with my friends. I'll be damned if I'm going to let him stop me from having fun.

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?

It's a compliment

Yesterday I was meant to find out what my rapist has pleaded and whether we're going to trial or not. The lead up to that day was very stressful - all the worst case scenarios were running through my mind and I was getting more and more anxious by the second. I hardly slept. So, I waited the entire day for a call from the police, which never came. Eventually I found out that the date has been rescheduled - I will now find out on June 6th. Another two weeks.

Will there ever be an end? At the minute, it feels like my entire life reloves around rape, the aftermath of rape and the trial. It feels like there is no end in sight. It's exhausting. I'm exhausted.

In the meantime, I have come across a website which I really like. It's a website run by another rape survivor. The link for it can be found here. The articles range from rape-related to homophobia to politics. It's a very, very good site.

In on of her articles, she makes a point of addressing the issue of rape as a compliment. Unfortunately, in the society that we live in, a lot of people still have the opinion that rape is a compliment. I have heard the comment, when watching the news with my friends; 'why would anyone want to rape her?'. After all, only attractive women get raped, right? So if you're raped, really, you should take it as a compliment that you're just far too attractive and sexy - men can't restrain themselves around you, they HAVE to rape you.

This again links in with the view that society has that somehow the victim was asking for it. After all, rape is just sex. If someone finds you sexually attractive, that's a great confidence booster. So surely being raped should be the ultimate confidence booster? You were just THAT attractive.

Take it from me. Rape is not a compliment. Rape destroys lives.

Small people, tall people, thin people and fat people get raped. Rape is not about sex. Rape is not about passion. Rape is not about being attracted to someone. Rape is about control and dominance. Anyone can be raped and it's just the matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Some people laugh at women - and men - that become intimidated by someone else. I have heard people wondering why a certain person is so anxious, when they're obviously nothing special to look at. What rapist would chose an ugly person to rape, when he could have the pick of far more attractive women? This, again, suggests that rape is on the same level as consensual, passionate sex - yes, it's a bad thing, but it's not that bad. It's just a guy that's had too much to drink and doesn't realise that the passion isn't recipricated. Rape is just on the far end of the spectrum of consensual sex.

In reality, rape is on a completely different spectrum. Rape has nothing to do with sex. Rape is about ascerting your dominance, it is about proving that you are better and stronger than another person. Rape is about killing a part of a person. It is about destroying free will. It is about making a statement of ownership. It is about saying 'your life is in my hands, you have no control, you mean nothing. You are less than nothing'.

Rape makes a rapist feel powerful, invincible. He (or she) is in complete control of another person. He is forcing himself onto someone else. Your body is no longer yours - all that you are, your mind and your body, is at the mercy of the rapist. He can do whatever he wants with you.

Rape is painful. Rape is humiliating. Rape is torture. Rape destroys.

Rape is not a compliment.

Research

One of the benefits about studying psychology is that I have access to a lot of books and research about PTSD, pedophiles, rape etc. I probably shouldn't be looking at these topics, as I know I need to "move on". But by reading about these things, it helps me to understand my own feelings and behaviour. Once I know why I act in a certain way, then I can consciously make an effort to stop that behaviour - if it's detremental to my well being.

Let's start with PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Before it was known as PTSD, it was called shell-shock or combat-fatigue, and was only applied to soldiers that had fought in a war. In 1980, that changed. A description of PTSD by Thompson (1997) states that PTSD is an anxiety disorder which occurs in response to an extreme psychological or physical trauma outside the range of normal human experience. A lot of different experiences can cause PTSD - being in a natural disaster such as an earthquake, physical threat, witnessing other people's deaths etc. Abuse and rape also cause PTSD.

The problem with PTSD (according to Brewin, 1998) is that sufferes attempt to avoid - but cannot prevent- vivid, emotionally arousing images repeatedly intruding into their waking or sleeping minds.

Heh. Yup, that sounds about right. I constantly try and forget about what happened, I don't want to think about it. But, often when I least expect it, memories will pop up and I'm forced to think about what happened. This happened a few days ago - I met up with a friend, we went out for dinner and a few drinks. In the middle of a sentence, his face just popped in to my head. I could see him grinning at me - that awful, evil grin of his. It was like he was right in front of me. So I stopped mid-sentence, collected my thoughts, tried to push his face out of my mind and slow my breathing down (my heart had started to pound quite quickly). This happened a few times. My poor friend, she must have thought she was having dinner with a crazy person, the way I would suddenly start and stop a conversation.

Other effects of PTSD include: severe anxiety, irritability, insomnia, poor concentration, detachment, inability to feel emotion, flashbacks and distressing dreams. Coincidentally, a lot of these symptoms are similar to those of depression. Except with PTSD you are more likely to suffer from intrusive memories and feeling helpess. People that are suffering from PTSD also have a higher pain threshold, as the brain of PTSD sufferers releases far more endoprhins than is normal. (Endoprhins are natural opiates with pain-killing properties).

Now that I understand that, I can also start to understand why I self-harmed. For so long I felt numb. I felt dead to the world. Cutting and burning myself was one way that I could make myself feel something. And the pain wasn't that bad. It was just intense enough for me to feel it, but not bad enough for me to stop. And seeing my own blood helped me as well - to remind myself that I was alive, that I wasn't trapped in a nightmare.

Another major symptom of PTSD is the startle reflex. Everyone has it - if you hear a loud noise, you tense up (especially your neck muscles, as the neck is very vulnerable to injury). But if you suffer from PTSD, then you are already tense. Therefore, the starle reflex is much more intense in those that suffer from PTSD than in those that don't. Take today, for example. I was visting a dear friend of mine and stroking her dog. We were chatting about this and that. Then her dog sneezed. I jumped quite visibly, as if someone had just jumped out at me. At the minute, my startle reflex is quite bad and I find myself jumping at the smallest of things.

Right, enough about PTSD. Let's look at pedophiles. According to my books, pedophiles tend to be males, but women can be pedophiles as well. There is a distinct difference between a pedophile and a child rapist. Pedophiles are sexually attracted to children, but do not wish to harm them. They are sexually aroused by children, not by inflicting pain. Child rapists, on the other hand, get sexually aroused by children and by inflicting pain upon that child. I suppose I was lucky in that I was targeted by a pedophile, not a child rapist.

One thing which I did come across and found disturbing, was a study conducted by Hall et al in 1995. They showed men various sexual photographs and measured the arousal in the penis. It was found that 1/4 of them became aroused at child pornography. A quarter. That is an extremely scary statistic. However, other factors need to be taken into account with this one - a lot of them were already aroused when shown the images of the children and merely continued to be aroused. Fantasy must also be taken in to account - some men may fantasize about children, but would never act upon their fantasies. Just as some women fantasize about being raped, but would never want to be raped for real.

So what causes a pedophile to act on their fantasies? According to Looman (1995), pedophiles tend to fantasise about children when their mood is low, when they are feeling down. However, having these fantasies enhances their negative mood, causing them to have more fantasies which in turn enhances their negative mood even further. This downward spiral, according to Looman, could be the cause of why some pedophiles act on ther fantasies and some don't - depending how far down the spiral they are.

Pedophiles also have low self-esteem, low impulse control, low social maturity and low social skills. Most older heterosexual pedophiles have at one point been married. The man that raped me was married - he even had kids.

"Because overt physical force is seldom used in pedophilia, the child molester often denies that he is actually forcing himself on his victim. But it is disingenuous to assume that there is no coercion. The pedophile takes advantage of the naivete of the victim and of the imbalanced powere relationship that exists between an adult and a child. Sometimes the molester rationalizes that he is doing something good for the child, despite the betrayal of trust that is inherent in child sexual abuse and despite the serious nergative psychological consequences that can befall the abused child some years later."

That particular paragraph rings true. My abuser always told me that he was helping me, that what we were doing was good for me. The exact phrase he used was that "he was helping me discover myself". I can still hear him say it. "I am helping you discover yourself". It makes me sick to my stomach.

I was going to write more about pedophiles, the effects of childhood sexual abuse, rapists and the effects of rape. But I can't - I've worn myself out.

I guess having access to these books and studies is both a blessing and a curse. I want - I need - to know why I am experiencing everything. But at the same time, thinking about all of this makes me emotionally exhausted and anxious.

I know some people will say 'don't research this, try and forget about it'. My response? I've been trying to forget about it for almost half my life. So far, trying to forget about it isn't working. So instead, I want to know about it. I want to learn about it and try to understand, try to comprehend what happened to me and why.

Take Two

I've been thinking about something for a while. At first I dismissed it, thought it would be seen as a failure, as giving up. But recently I've been giving it a lot of thought, and have decided to do it.

I'm not going to be taking my exams this summer. Instead, I'm going to re-take the year. It's not ideal. I don't want to do it. I want to finish university and get on with my life. But this year has been a pretty bad year. I've struggled a lot with my depression and PTSD. My sleeping has been all over the place. When I do sleep, I'm usually plagued by nightmares. I've struggled with anxiety and have had panic attacks. My mind just has not been on my work.

If I took the exams this year, I would maybe scrape a pass. I don't want to scrape a pass. I know I am capable of much more than that. I have my heart set on the career that I want to go in to once I finish university. To go in to that career I need more than just a degree, I need a good degree. If I were to continue, I wouldn't be able to do what I want to do with my life. I don't want that. I don't want what he did to me to affect the rest of my life. I refuse to let that happen.

So, I don't see re-sitting my second year as a failure. Failure would be not being able to do the job that I want to do, because of him. Because I was too stubborn to admit that what he did to me has had a lasting effect. Instead, I'm putting my hands up and admitting it. This year has been difficult and I haven't been able to focus on university.

The process won't be easy though - the university has to approve my request. They need letters from my doctors and psychologist proving that I've hardly taken anything in. They rarely let people re-take a year, as they believe it's not fair on the other students that are taking the year for the first time. I can see their point. However, I'm still going to fight for it. I just need to prove that I wasn't capable of work this year and that I wasn't able to go to many lectures or take in all the information on the course.

So, right now I'm busy getting in touch with my doctors and psychologist, asking them to provide evidence that will hopefully persuade the university to allow me to re-sit. I have a meeting in two weeks with the powers that be to discuss everything, and then I will know.

I have also, finally, heard back from my police liason officer. My abuser will be going to the Police Case Management Hearing on the 22nd of May to put in his plea. Once that has been done, the trial (if there is a trial - which is looking more and more likely) will take place soon after that. My liason officer said I have three options as to give evidence. I can either; a) have the video statement played in court. b) Give live evidence via a video link, where I will be in a small room outside the court and would appear on a TV in the courtroom. Or c) go in to court and give evidence from the witness box, in which case I could have a screen put up so that he wouldn't be able to see me while I give evidence.

He said the decision is completely up to me. I think I will go for the last option. It's the more difficult option, but it's also the best option for the prosecution. Juries like to see the victims. And I think in the long run it will help me to heal. I'll give it some more thought, but I'm pretty sure that's what I will do.

In the meantime, while I'm deciding this, I have been asked to gather my school records and medical records. I guess to for the prosecution to show that a) I mentioned what happened to me to the school counsellor at the time (so therefore it is unlikely that I made it up, as the defense will claim) and b) to show the long-lasting impact the abuse has had on me. Again, proving that I didn't make it up.

After months of silence, it seems like things are finally progressing. My liason officer warned me that now things will happen very fast. Oh boy.

I'm dreading it, but it's something that I want to do. It's something I need to do.

I'm looking forward to when this is all over though, and I can get back to my life.