Tomorrow...?

I’m full of flu at the minute, so I’m not exactly feeling great.

I've heard from the police, and was told that he testified today, and so did some people as a character witness.  When I heard this, I said to my parents; ‘what are they going to say?  That he’s such a nice guy for a pedophile?’ 

I have to joke at the minute – it’s either laugh or cry, and I've done enough crying.

I wish I knew what he said, what was asked, what the character witnesses said etc.  But I'm not allowed to know, not until it's all over.

Tomorrow are the closing speeches and then the jury retires to talk about the verdict.  So the verdict could be tomorrow.  I’m extremely nervous.  What if they find him innocent?  I would have gone through all of this for nothing.  Well, not for nothing.  No matter how this plays out, I don't regret finally telling the truth.  I don't regret going to the police.  It won't have been for nothing, because I - finally - stood up to him and I fought back.

I'm still pretty scared right now though.

And it sucks that I can’t make an appointment with my psychologist.  I’m desperate to talk to her, to talk about the trial, the impact it’s had on me etc.  But there’s a tiny chance that she could be called to give evidence, so we’re not allowed to talk.

I know that it’s the justice system, but it’s absolutely ridiculous.  Until the trial is over I’m not allowed to talk about it, so I’m just left with all these feelings and fears that I’m not allowed to give a voice to.  Not exactly great for my mental health.

But, tomorrow there should be a verdict.  Holy crap.

The diary

2:40pm – Today could not have gone any better!!!  Well, I suppose if he had decided to plead guilty there and then, that would have been better.  But seriously, it’s fantastic today!

As you know, last night a friend of ours searched our house and find the diary.  I wasn't able to tell my parents why I needed the diary, just that it was important.  Then when the friends rang and told us they had found the diary... fantastic!

Then the question was – how are we going to get it to London overnight?  First we tried to find somewhere that would post it overnight.  Far too expensive.  A friend of the family friends said he would drive down for cash.  My parents said yes.  Again, I couldn't tell them why I needed the diary, just that it was of the utmost importance.

At 1am in the morning, the guy arrives at our hotel and gives my Dad the diary, who gives it to me.  I read it.  All the entries are dated, making it obvious that I was about 14 when I wrote in it.  There are only a few entries, and some pages are missing as the diary is falling apart.

But – I mention him!!  This proves that his defense is a lie.  It proves that we knew each other when I was 14.  It proves that I was telling the truth, and he was lying.

So, I tell the kick-ass police detective and handed it over today at the court.  We all sat waiting around in the witness lounge.  At about midday we’re told that the trial has been adjourned for the day, as his lawyer and he have a lot to discuss, and they need to figure out where to go from here.  This means that the diary has been allowed in as evidence, despite it being handed in at such short notice.

But it’s made a HUGE hole in his defense.  It proves he was lying.

So now, him and his lawyer need to talk about what to do next.  Who knows – he might even plead guilty!  That’s the best possible outcome.  The worst outcome is that it’s accepted as evidence (which I've been told it has been) and I’m questioned about it.  But there’s not much the defense can really say – it’s written in black and white.

So, for today, there’s nothing more I can do.  I’m still under oath so I’m not allowed to talk about it with anyone – which is SO frustrating.  I’m desperate to talk about it, to talk about what I went through in court, why the diary is so important etc.  But I can’t yet.

We’ll see what happens tomorrow.  But right now, I feel like a million dollars.  I feel like I could run a marathon.  I feel like I’m on top of the world.  I feel – wait for it – happy!  This is amazing.

4:15pm – Sometimes  I hate my brain.  I always think of the worst possible thing that could happen.  I try to be an optimistic person, and for the most part I am.  But sometimes it’s difficult.  Like now.  I’m thinking ‘what if his lawyer tries to ask for a mistrial, because the evidence came too late?  What if the judge accepts and then I have to go through all this again, and he changes his story so that the diary doesn't matter?’

I don’t know how the legal system works, so I don’t know if that’s plausible or not.  And I can’t ask anyone, because I’m not allowed to talk about it.

I hate not being allowed to talk about it.  These laws are there to protect him, not me.  I’m not allowed to mention the rape, even if I didn't use the word rape and said ‘at 17 we had sex, and he said it was consensual’, or something like that.  Because that would also prove that he’s lying (as the police told me it was a case of he said/she said and because it happened so long ago, there’s no evidence to support me.  So he must have made a statement saying we had sex, but it was consensual).  But that statement isn't allowed to be shown, even though it would prove he’s a liar.

His defense is basically; we talked online for up to 9 months when I was 16.  We never met.  It was purely platonic.  Well, my diary shows that we talked AT LEAST from the age of 14.  That statement would show that it was not platonic and that we did meet.  It would prove that he’s a liar.

But because of the law, he is protected, and I’m the one put on the stand and accused of being a liar and a money-grabber.

Oh yeh – I was also pretty much accused of being a child-slut.  That I was talking to lots of different people (men) online and met up with them so it’s impossible to remember which one actually hurt me.  I mean, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!  I was fucking TWELVE years old.  He was the only one I talked!  And I think I would remember who fucking sexually abused and raped me!

Urgh.   The sooner this is over with, the better.

5:10pm – I've just had a text from my liaison officer.  She says the diary has definitely been accepted as evidence.  YES!!!  And I have to be at court for 10am tomorrow, which means I get a bit of a lie in.  She hasn't said anything else, so I guess that means he’s not pleading guilty and will somehow try and explain away the diary.  So I need to prepare myself.  I think it will be another difficult day tomorrow.

But, I’m trying not to think about it.  One day at a time.  Today was a good day.  Today I proved he was lying.  Today I shook him up.  Today was a victory for me.  I’m going to try and reclaim the happy feelings I had a few hours ago, and deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.

9:10pm – All I keep thinking is “it’s almost over.  It’s almost over”.  Tomorrow should be the last day that I’m needed in court.  The trial won’t be over, but my part in it will be.  I just need to get tomorrow over and done with. 

Oh please let it be finished tomorrow.  I don’t want to stay another night in London.  I want to go home.  I want to get as far away from London as I possibly can.

Tomorrow will be horrible.  I know this.  I know that the defense has to up her game since I handed in my diary.  I don’t know what she’s going to do or say, but I know it will be awful.  I know it will be worse than the first time, as now there is proof that her client lied.  So she needs to push and push and push at me until I break, she will pour over every detail to try and trip me up.  I know she will.  But I will not break, I will not let her trip me up.  I will be honest.  I don’t remember every single detail.  It happened 12 years ago.  How am I supposed to remember all the details?

She will try and goad me in to arguing with her.  She will do everything in her power to try and discredit me.  I don’t know what she’s going to say.  But I know it’s going to be awful.

I will survive.

But I am dreading it.

11:40pm – I can’t sleep.  I’m so tired.  I can barely keep my eyes open.  But when I close them – nothing happens.  I lie there, not being able to sleep.  I toss and turn.  I can’t get comfortable.  And all that’s running through my head is tomorrow – what will happen? 

I was elated this afternoon.  I thought, right, this is it, he can’t possibly get out of this one. 

Now I’m not so sure.  He’s a weasel.  He’s slippery.  He can get out of this.  He’s got a really good lawyer (or barrister, whatever the term is) fighting in his corner.  My lawyer is awesome.  She’s fantastic – I couldn't ask for a better one.  But his is pretty damn good as well.  I just know she’s going to somehow twist my words.

And I know I shouldn't be thinking this.  But I keep thinking ‘why me?’  Why did this have to happen to me?  Why do I have to be going through this?  No one ever said life was fair, and aint that the truth.  If it was fair, then I never would have met him, I never would have been sexually abused, I never would have been raped, I wouldn't be suffering from PTSD, I would have finished university, I would be on my way to becoming a neuro-psychologist and my best friend would still be alive.

But life isn't fair.  So instead I’m in court, facing my rapist and I’m not allowed to mention that he raped me.  

And my best friend isn't here.

This afternoon I felt like a million dollars.  Now, I feel nothing but dread and fear and [emotional] pain.  I just know that his lawyer will have some trick up her sleeve to make me out to be a liar.

And I’m scared.  Because life isn't fair.  Life has never been fair up to now, so why would it be fair in giving me a good outcome in this trial?

I know that’s wrong.  I know I shouldn't be thinking like that.  I know that whatever happens, I can only do my best and it’s all God’s plan.  But I’m not perfect, I can’t pretend to understand God’s plan, and right now, I feel hopeless.

Life has never been fair to me up until now, so why would it suddenly change and things go my way?  And yes, I realise I’m having a self-pitying moment.  I don’t often have them, so I think I’m allowed to indulge in one right now. 

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.

Worry

In the next week and a half I will hear from my liason officer about what's happening with the trial, if there is a trial. Will he plead guilty to all accounts and go straight to jail, but serve a lesser sentence? Will he plead guilty to some charges and innocent to others? In which case he will still go to jail (due to the other chargers) but I will need to testify against him. Or will he plead innocent to all 40+ chargers? In which case I will need to testify, as well as other people. If that is the case, the chances of him being found innocent are next to nothing, as the evidence for some of the chargers are overwhelming. If he does choose this option, then when he is found guilty, he will serve a longer sentence.

So this is playing on my mind a lot at the moment. I know it is out of my control, I have no say in what happens. But my mind is playing through all the scenarios. Will he plead guilty? Will he plead innocent? Will I have to face him in court? Will I have to relive all those moments in front of everyone? Moments that I can barely bring myself to talk about in detail with my psychologist, friends and family, but will have to tell a room full of strangers. Not just strangers, but the defense, who will do everything s/he can to break me down and convince everyone that I'm lying.

That terrifies me. For almost all of my life, he has had a hold over me, he has abused me, he has raped me. And now, possibly, I will have to relive every single moment in a court full of strangers. I've heard some people say that going to court and being questioned and interrogated by the defense is like being raped again. And I can already see what they mean. I will have to tell them my worst memories, relive them and then argue against the defense as s/he tries to convince people that I am lying, that the abuse never happened, that my pain and suffering aren't real.

There is no best case scenario either. If he pleads guilty he gets a shorter prison sentence. If he pleads innocent I will get ripped apart and stomped on in the trial. For me, it's a lose-lose situation, as far as my mental health goes anyway. I guess it's a win-win in that either way he will go to jail, it just depends for how long.

So yes, it's on my mind a lot at the minute. I'm trying not to think about it, but how can I not?

It's leaving me completely exhausted and tense. My depression and PTSD are quite active at the minute because of it. Which means that it's difficult to study.

No matter how much I study, it's not enough. I'm working so hard, pushing myself to my limits to get this studying done. I'm using every ounce of energy and motivation I have. Which leaves me completely exhausted and depleted. And yet the studying that I can manage to do is no where near enough.

People keep telling me I need to study more, that time is running out, that the exams are looming. I know this. And I am doing my hardest. Everything I write and remember is a huge achievement for me, it is something to be celebrated. But it's not enough. I am doing as much as I physically can without causing myself to have a breakdown. I am working the hardest I can, I am working so hard that I am empty of everything else. But it's not enough.

I know I should feel angry at him for putting me in this position. I know if it wasn't for him I wouldn't have PTSD and I wouldn't be pushing myself to the absolute limits with almost no noticeable results. Yet I'm just too exhausted to feel angry. I'm too exhausted to feel much of anything. Except worry.

Worry about what news my police liason officer will bring. Worry about what my next nightmare will be about. Worry about facing him. Worry about being pushed to break down in court. Worry about not studying enough. Worry about failing my exams. Worry about having another panic attack. Worry about being a dissapointment - to myself, my friends and my family.

Me

Fighting

I had a nightmare last night. Haven't had one of those in a while. It was a horrific nightmare as well. Sometimes they're not so bad - yes, when I wake up from them it leaves me a bit shaky, but I can shrug it off. But the nightmare last night... it was a bad one. I couldn't get back to sleep again afterwards, every time I closed my eyes I saw the images from the dream. I knew it wasn't real, knew it was just a dream, but it left me very shaken. I was up for almost 5 hours, before eventually being able to fall asleep again around 6am.

This of course meant I was out of sorts all day. Even when I woke up afterwards, the nightmare still lingered. I could feel it going round and round in my head. Every time I tried to think, tried to focus on my studies, those images would pop back up. I couldn't block them out. It seemed the harder I tried to forget them and focus on something else, the more they tried to claw their way to my consciousness.

The only way I could stop them was to watch TV. Not even educational TV, but TV that I could switch my mind off to. Something that didn't require me to think, something I could switch off to. I could switch my brain off and just let the images of the TV push down the images of my nightmare.

It works. But it's not exactly great - I need to study. I have exams coming up. I'm already worried about them as it is (think everyone taking exams worries about them!). The last thing I need is to not be able to study because of PTSD.

I know I need to be strong. I am fighting PTSD. I am fighting depression. I am fighting to stay focused on my studies. And I'm fighting him (legally, obviously).

It's just... it's a lot of fighting. It leaves me exhausted. It leaves me tired, so very tired.

I love my course. I absolutely love it. I find it fascinating and I want to pursue a career in it. It's just difficult, because when I least expect it, a flashback will happen, or I'll have a nightmare that leaves me shaken for the entire day.

I'm tired of fighting. I want to live. I want to enjoy life. And if I have to fight to enjoy life, well then so be it.

I'm just so tired of fighting.

V

Back to reality

To start with, I just want to apologise if this entry doesn't make much sense - I'm quite sleep deprived and just writing down my thoughts, which probably aren't that coherent.

For the past 3 weeks I've been on holiday. It has been absolutely amazing. Would you believe it, I was actually on holiday in Antarctica. How crazy is that? It was fantastic. I had such an amazing time, and I barely thought about my rape. I would go several days without thinking about it - which is a pretty rare thing. Normally I think about it every day, in the sense that it's a shadow lurking in the back of my mind.

However, on holiday, this wasn't the case. I hardly thought about it at all. I was too engrossed with exploring and experiencing the Antarctic. I was in a place that was so far from my reality, from my life and from everything that I knew, that I could just be. I could enjoy the moment, enjoy my holiday.

I don't know if that makes any sense or not. I'll try and explain. Normally, things will remind me of him, of the years of abuse, of the rape. I'll see someone walking in the street that looks slightly like him, and everything will come rushing back. I'll walk past a car park, and will remember that night. There are constent reminders and associations everywhere I go. Except on holiday - there was absolutely nothing that reminded me of him in the Antarctic. Because everything I saw there was a completely new experience for me, there was nothing there that I could associate to him or the abuse.

It was amazing.

Sadly though, all good things must come to an end. Including the holiday. It's time to get back to reality.

It's currently past 3am, I'm in a hotel room in Germany, waiting for my flight back home in the morning. While I was on holiday, I could sleep. Now I find that I'm unable to get to sleep. Thoughts of him, of the possiblity of a trial, keep popping in to my head.

I know that as soon as I get back, I need to get in touch with my police liason officer. He called before I went on holiday and said he has some things I need to sign. I'm guessing he needs my permission to get some more records from my psychologist. I'll need to know exactly what records he wants before I sign anything. The police are collecting evidence to prove that I was abused and raped. So obviously they want records from my sessions with my shrink. But, as my shrink pointed out, the defense and him, will have access to all the evidence, including the reports.

I don't want him to know anything about my life. I don't want to just hand over the notes that my psychologists made, because there's a lot of personal things in those notes. Nothing earth-shattering, but I just don't want him to have access to any part of my life. I don't want him to know about arguements with my family, my past relationships, my friends etc. He's already taken a part of me, I'll be damned if he's going to take anything else.

So of course, this means that I need to make sure that what I'm signing states that the police can only take the notes that will be relevant to the case. Which, from their point of view is frustrating. After all - they want everything, because how will they know if it's relevant or not until they've read it? But if they read it, then the defense has the right to read it. I want to do everything and anything in my power to put this man away. But giving him access to every single part of my life? I can't do that. I can't let him taint my life any further than he already has. I can't have him knowing everything about me.

So my psychologist, the police and I are trying to work something out that we're all happy with. And my psychologist has been absolutely amazing. She's had experience with this before, and knows exactly what the police need, and also what's best for my well-being.

So. The holiday is over. Back to reality and everything that that brings with it. Not only my memories of him, or the possibility of going to trial, or the nightmares, the sleeplessness and working out my privacy issues, but also university and studying.

I will admit that sometimes it does feel like too much. It does feel like I'm almost bursting at the seams with everything that's going on. But I refuse to let him take any more years of my life. I am living my life. I am getting my degree. And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that it's a good degree. I will not let him take my future.

To finish with, I'll leave you with a quote that I came across, about child abuse, but I think the same goes for rape and abuse that occurs at any time in someone's life.. Child abuse casts a shadow the length of a lifetime - Herbert Ward.

Me

Sometimes

I have good days and bad days. A lot of the time, the reason why I'm having a bad day is because of him and what he did to me. I find myself lost in memories, overcome by anger etc. However, sometimes; a bad day is just a bad day. Not everything in my life is linked to him. Sometimes I can't sleep and I have no idea why. Sometimes I'm in a bad mood and it has nothing whatsoever to do with him.

My parents are just discovering this. Lately, a lot of times when I have been feeling down it has been because of him. My parents know that. They see my pain and it hurts them. So when I was in a bad mood the other day, they asked me why, they asked me to talk to them. I told them I didn't know why, that I was just in a bad mood, that I was tired etc. They, of course, didn't believe me. They sat me down for a chat and told me I could tell them anything. I told them that I know (I lucked out with my parents, they're pretty awesome), but that I was just tired and there was nothing more to it than that.

Which of course, they didn't believe.

Sometimes, a bad mood (or a bad day, or being tired), is just a bad mood.

Now, moving on. I've started smoking again. I had quit for over 3 months. Then I started again a few weeks ago. I was feeling down and stressed (and this time it was because of him), and I went out and bought a packet of cigarettes. It felt so good.

I don't want to be a smoker all my life. But at the minute there is so much uncertainty in my life - will this or won't this go to trial, will he get away with what he did, will he stop haunting my dreams etc. Smoking is a coping mechanism. Probably not a great coping mechanism, but it's better than self-harming, or making myself sick, or starving myself. All of which I used to do. It seemed like the lesser of the evils.

Me