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.

My birthday

I haven’t had the time to write anything for a few days – have been so busy.  The day after we got back home, Friday, I spent most of the day decorating and sorting out food and various other things.  On Saturday I had a hair appointment and in the evening it was my murder mystery party.

I had such a great night.  Loved every minute of it.  For those few hours I completely forgot about the court case and instead I thoroughly enjoyed my party.  There was laughter, outrage at being murdered, intrigue, blackmail… I had so much fun.  I hope everyone else did as well.

Today is my actual birthday.  Can’t believe I’m 25… It’s a slightly muted affair today.  I opened all the cards and presents, absolutely love everything I was given.  I have very generous friends and family!!

I’m not really celebrating today though.  The trial is continuing.  There was some sort of administrative error on Friday which meant that they couldn't continue with the case until today.  I’m worried.  I’m wondering what’s happening.  It’s put a slight damper on my birthday, to say the least.

I keep thinking about things I said, things I wish I had said and things I wish I hadn't said.  I know there’s no point thinking ‘what if I had said this’ etc.  But still…  Can’t help running over everything in my mind.  I think that until a verdict is reached, I will be constantly on edge and second guessing myself.

Over the past few days I've also realised just how much work I still need to do.  I’m pretty damaged.  I’m not broken, I've glued myself back together, but the cracks are still there.  One day the cracks will be very faded scars, but for now, I have a lot of work to do.

On the night of my party it hit me just how much work I really need to do.  7 of my friend stayed the night, 3 of which were guys.  I know these men, they’re my friends.  But I still couldn't sleep.  All I kept thinking was ‘there are 3 guys in the house’.  These 3 guys are great, they are such lovely people.  They’re friends.  But he was my friend as well, or at least, I thought he was my friend.  I know now that he was just a pedophile pretending to be my friend, grooming and molding me.

But… I really did think of him as my friend.  And he raped me.  And I’m furious with him.  Because not only did he ruin my childhood, but he has completely destroyed my trust.  I find it incredibly difficult to trust anyone, but men in particular.  Apart from my Dad, there is only one man that I can think of that I would trust with my life, and that’s one of my oldest friends, D. 

And I hate him for it.  These guys that stayed over are great guys – for crying out loud, most of them were staying over with their girlfriends!  But I just could not sleep.  All I kept thinking was ‘there are 3 guys staying the night in my house, I am not safe’.  It’s absolutely ridiculous.  I ended up staying awake until 5am, until I was too exhausted to stay awake any longer.

I wouldn't have had it any other way though – I am glad that these guys stayed over.  The 8 of us had one hell of an after-party which was just awesome.   I just wish I could trust more easily and I wish the friendship of men didn't make me feel afraid.

I guess that’s something to work on with my psychologist.  And have no doubt - I will work on it, and I will fix myself.  In the meantime, I'm not going to let my past dictate my future, nor will I let my past dictate who I am friends with.  I'm young and I deserve to have fun, dammit!

The first day

9.40am - I hardly got any sleep last night.  I also threw up in the early hours of the morning.  Think it’s my nerves getting to me.  I’m absolutely dreading today.  I can’t believe it’s happening, that today is the first day of the trial, and I’m testifying.

It doesn't seem real.  After all this time, it’s finally happening.  And I’m terrified.  What if the jury hates me?  What if they don’t believe me?  What will the defense ask?

I know that the defense is just doing her job, that I shouldn't take anything personal.  But I also know that it will be personal – she is going to try and get the jury to not believe me.  She is going to make out that as a 12 year old I came on to a 33 year old man.  She will do anything in her power to make me look bad.  And I’m terrified.

Part of me wonders how she can represent him.  But the other part of me knows that that isn't fair.  She is only doing her job.  But in my eyes, she is protecting the man that ruined my childhood.  She is protecting the man that abused me for years.  She is protecting my abuser by making it look like it was my fault.  I know it’s her job and I’m not being fair on her.  But still… that doesn't make it any easier for me.

I just need to remember that I’m not alone.  I have my family, I have my friends, I have the prosecution.  I have a lot of support.  I am not facing this alone. 

Except, in court, I will be alone and she will do everything in her power to break me.  And I’m absolutely terrified.

11am – I've arrived at the court house.  After being searched to make sure that I have no weapons on me, I was directed to the witness area.  I’m currently sitting in the lounge.  It’s quite a nice room really.  It was obviously designed with the help of a psychologist – the walls are a very pale, calm yellow and the pictures that are dotted around the room are of serene scenery.  It’s all designed for a calming effect.

I feel anything but calm right now.

I've bought a book with me, but I’m reading the same passage over and over again, with nothing going in.  My stomach is in knots.  I couldn't eat this morning.  I feel sick.

There’s a TV in this room with some DVDs.  I might try and watch something – again, all the DVDs are either comedies or chick-flicks, which I suppose is to calm you down.  No point watching an action movie and getting the adrenalin running – think I might overdose on adrenalin that way!

11:50am – I've met my lawyer, or rather, barrister, E.  She seems really nice.  Obviously we couldn't go in to detail and she couldn't tell me what she was going to ask me in court etc., but she just said that it’s okay to be nervous.  We talked a bit about my hearing and she asked if there was anything that needed to be done.  I told her the T-loop in court needed to be switched on and that when either she or the defense are asking me questions they need to face me so that I can lip-read.

She seems nice and good at her job.

I've been given my statement to read over.  It’s awful.  They suggested that I read it about four times.  It’s not nice.  Just reading over and over again what I said at my interview.  It makes me feel like a victim.  They are the words of a victim, of a scared child.  It’s pretty difficult to read.

12:30pm – time is moving so slow.  I've been told that I’ll probably give my testimony at about 2pm.  Another hour and a half to wait, possibly longer, possibly shorter.   It’s the waiting that is awful.  I’m here now, I’m ready to testify, I want it out of the way.   The waiting is horrible.  I’m getting more and more anxious as time progresses.

I went outside for a smoke before.  I’m not allowed to go out alone (I guess they’re afraid of witness tampering or something).  If it was up to me, I’d be chain smoking this entire time.  I want to sit outside on the steps with the breeze in my hair, listening to the birds and smoking a cigarette.  Unfortunately, I can’t do that, unless someone is with me.  Which sucks.  There should be a smoking room or area for witnesses to go.

God, I hate this waiting.

1:10pm – I've just had some lunch.  I wasn't hungry, but I forced myself to eat.  I don’t want my stomach rumbling when I’m on the stand.  Had to find someone to come outside with me while I had another smoke.

The court has broken up for lunch.  The opening statements have been made (I assume).  In 50 minutes the court will start again and I will be called in.  I don’t think I've ever been so scared.  Well, I have.  Let me rephrase that.  Since the rape (which I’m not allowed to mention in court), I haven’t been this scared and nervous.  I am petrified, and extremely glad I chose to have a curtain around me while I’m questioned.  I’m in a right state right now, and the last thing I want is to see him and for him to see me like this.

1:40pm – Not long to go now.  Oh man.  Oh man.  Oh man.  I’m so nervous.  I’m going to ask if I can go in to the chapel about 5 minutes before I need to be in court.  I know there is nothing I can do but put my trust in God.  I think spending some time in the chapel will help to calm me, to center myself.

2:40pm – Turns out the jury hasn't been sworn in yet, all this time it’s been the two lawyers having verbal arguments to decide which evidence is allowed in and which isn't.  Some questions were raised, and I've had to give another statement to clarify some things.  He used to send me links to porn sites, most of them featured kids.  Bear in mind that that alone is classed as child abuse – directing a child of 12/13/14 to porn sites.  The thing they needed to clarify was which of these adult sites he directed me to, and which of them were visited by my parents…  So yes, that was a bit awkward!

Then I was told that the lawyers need to finish their argument, and then the jury will be sworn in and the opening statements will be given and only then will I be called to the stand.  I've been told that the chances of me being called today are very slim, and that I will probably be called tomorrow instead.

This waiting is absolutely exhausting.  I’m tired.  I’m fed up.  I want this to be over.

I’m annoyed as well.  Not at any particular person – I know it’s no one’s fault.  But I've been sitting here all day, getting more and more anxious, worried about being cross-examined etc., and it turns out I probably won’t even testify today.  It’s so frustrating.

I tell you, the judicial system is absolutely crazy.

4:30pm – I’m now back in my hotel room.  I didn't end up testifying today, that will happen tomorrow.  I just want it to be over.  I’m tired.  I want to go home to my bed.  I want to sleep for a week.  This morning I woke up terrified.  Throughout the day I was getting more and more anxious.  Now I’m ready.  I want it over.

7:10pm – Even though I didn't testify today, I’m exhausted.  Completely worn out, I can barely think.  Today has shaken me more than I realised.  I started panicking while I was outside smoking, wondering if he is nearby.  We were in the same building today.  The same building.  That’s a pretty scary realisation.  The man that abused me, ruined my childhood, was in the same building as me.  So right now, even though I know the chances of him being in this hotel are virtually nothing, I’m still freaked out.  I’m seeing him everywhere I go.  My mind playing tricks on me.  I’m constantly on edge.

Guilt

I just heard from my police liason officer. He said that other evidence has been found concerning someone else. This means that he will have to be interviewed again and another bail date has to be set. It also means that the CPS (Criminal Prosecuting Service) won't review my case until sometime in 2012. He couldn't give me any details.  But "concerning someone else" can only mean one thing.

I burst in to tears when I heard this. I was beside myself. All that kept going through my head was 'he did this to someone else'. Deep down I knew that I probably wasn't the only one that he had abused and raped, but I still hoped I was. I didn't want anyone else going through what I'm going through. But to have it confirmed... Knowing that he hurt someone else the way he hurt me... it made me feel sick to my stomach.

And guilty. Oh, I feel so guilty. If only I had spoken out before. If only I had gone to the police before. Then maybe this poor girl, whoever she is, would have been spared. If I had just done something sooner, then this girl wouldn't have gone through this. But I didn't. I kept quiet for six years. How many other girls has he hurt in those six years? Now I know there's definitely another girl, I also know there's bound to be more.

I know I have nothing to be guilty for - he did those things. He is the only one to blame. But I can't help think; I could have stopped this. I could have stopped him from hurting her, whoever she is. But, because I was too afraid to speak out, someone else's life has been torn apart. Someone else has suffered at the hands of him. Someone else is trying to piece themselves back together. All because I didn't say anything sooner.

Logically, I know this isn't my fault. It's his. Logically I know this. Yet... I also know that this guilt is going to be something I have to learn to live with for the rest of my life. Because I didn't say anything sooner, which gave him six years to find and hurt other girls.

Everything I have been through, everything I am going through - someone else is going through the same thing. All because I kept my mouth shut.

So yes, I burst in to tears. I went outside for a cigarette and called my Dad. I chain-smoked and cried. Some poor fresher girl walked past me, saw me crying and sat down and hugged me, and went to get me some tissues. Which made me cry even more - the kindness she gave out to me, would she still be so kind if she realised that because of my actions (or lack thereof) a girl had been sexually abused and probably raped?

I went back to my room. I thought all the tears had left me, then I saw myself in the mirror, and the tears came again. I knocked on a friend's door, burst in and sat on his bed and cried some more. He must have been pretty shocked to see me in that state, and I had clearly interrupted his work. But bless him - he didn't say anything, just held me as I finally, finally, got all the tears out of my system.

I wandered around college for a bit, wanting to socialise, to be with people. Then I realised I didn't know how to interact with anyone. I couldn't tell them what had just happened, what I had just found out. Who needs that kind of darkness in their lives?

So here I am.

I just feel so guilty. Somewhere out there, there is a girl going through what I am going through. There is another girl out there that was groomed by this evil bastard. There is another girl out there who was hurt, who will carry these scars with her for the rest of her life.

All because I didn't say anything.

A vicious circle

People think that the most common reaction to rape is to shy away from human contact. Or rather, that is the reaction that society expects - any other reaction and coping strategy is frowned upon. How did I react? I craved love; I needed to feel wanted. However, because I was groomed from an early age (an age where most kids are just starting to discover what love is) my view on love was (and is) completely different to most people's.

When I was 12 until 17, he was my best friend. He was the person I told everything to. He made me need him – I couldn't imagine not having him to confide in. I know that a lot of people struggle with the idea of grooming and can't quite get their heads around it. It's very similar to Stockholm Syndrome (where you bond with your captor in order to survive). In the beginning, there was nothing sexual about it; he was there when I needed someone to talk to. Whatever drama was going on in my 12-year-old life, he was there for me. Slowly, he started to worm his way into every aspect of my life, making me think that without him I would crumble. Eventually, he would be asking me for 'favours' in return for 'supporting me'. So from an early age, anything sexual was intertwined with being friends and having someone to listen to.

I grew up thinking that if you wanted to bond with someone, that if you wanted someone to be there for you, listen to you and be a shoulder to cry on, then you should give them something physical in return. I thought that was the way things worked. Sex, close friendship and love were so completely tangled up with each other they all seemed like one thing. I didn't think you could have one without the other.

Then he raped me. For a long time afterwards, yes, I did withdraw in to myself. I didn't want to get close to anyone for fear of what might happen, for fear of getting hurt, both physically and emotionally.

I don't know when or why I started to change, but I did. Part of me wanted to take back what he had stolen from me. I wanted to say "see, I’m moving on from being raped, you don't affect me anymore". I wanted to prove to him that I had control of my body, that I could choose to be with someone. However, an even bigger part of me just wanted to be close to someone again. I suppose I was lonely and wanted to reach out to people - I wanted a normal, healthy relationship, yet I had no idea how to get close to someone and have a relationship without being physical.

It soon became very clear that even though I wanted more – that wasn't what most people wanted. In their eyes it was "wham, bam, thank you ma'am". This of course just meant that I ended up feeling even worse than I did before – I felt used, I felt like a faceless one night stand, I felt empty. It was a horrible, horrible feeling. I truly felt alone and unloved. So, needing to feel loved, I would again seek out someone to be close to, which in turn made me feel much, much worse than before. It was a vicious circle that I couldn't seem to get out of.

In all honestly, I still haven't managed to completely untangle those three things. I still have moments where I stumble – if I'm feeling low then of course I look for something – someone – that will make me feel better, that will make me feel wanted. Or if I start to develop feelings for someone, or I think that someone is interested in me, then I always seem to manage to chase that person away by 'giving it up' too soon. Again, I always end up feeling much, much worse afterwards.

All of this is something I'm working on though. After all, how can I expect someone to respect me and want to be with me, when my actions say that I don't respect myself? Yes, it's going to take a long time to completely untangle these three things, but bit by bit, I’m getting there.

Me