Sexually abused from the age of 12 culminating in being raped when I was 17. I kept quiet. In my mid-20s I finally told my parents and the police. This is my story.
Monday, 30 July 2012
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.
Labels:
abuse,
court case,
grief,
mourning,
nightmares,
rape,
RIP,
trial,
university,
year out
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