Court house

Yesterday I went to the Crown Court.  I was met by my police liason officer and a woman from victim support.  They showed me around, told me what to expect, and answered my questions.

I've seen the court room - not what I expected it to look like at all.  I blame it on watching too much television.  I sat in the witness chair, which faces the jurors.  When I give my evidence, there will be a screen around me, so that the only people I will be able to see are the jurors, the lawyers, the judge and the note-takers.  I won't see him, or any members in the gallery.

At first I didn't want a screen.  But if I break down - and there's a strong chance I will - then I didn't want him to see me cry.   So I chose a screen.  Steps have also been made so that I don't run in to him in the court house.  I will enter the building through a side entrence and be taken to a waiting room, where my police liason officer will be.  This waiting room is for witnesses and victims, through doors that you can only enter if you have the code.  When I give my evidence, I will be the first one led in and the last one out - so I will not have to lay eyes on him.

I've asked my parents not to sit there whilst I give evidence.  I don't think I would be able to speak about it if I knew that they were sitting there, listening.  It would make me uncomfortable.  It's not something a parent should ever have to hear.  I need to be able to give my evidence without worrying about how it's affecting someone else.  In this instance, I need to be selfish.  I can't worry about them - I need to worry about getting through the defence's questioning.  My parents have been extremely understanding - I know they want to be there to support me, and I know it will be hard on them, but they've agreed.

I won't be alone though, even though I won't be able to see her, as I will be behind a screen, my Aunt will be there.  And I know someone else will be as well, looking down on me from above.

In all honesty, I haven't given the trial much thought at all.  I've had other things on my mind, as I mentioned in my previous post.  As the time gets closer, it will probably weigh on my mind more,  but right now, I am heartbroken and trying to cope with the death of a much loved one.  I miss her, and the pain of losing her hasn't decreased even slightly.  It makes anything and everything else pale in comparison.

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.

Worn out

The police have sent me a statement that I need to sign. It's the transcript from the video interview I gave back in February. 81 pages. I have to read each page and sign it at the bottom.

It's horrible.

As I'm reading each page I can vividly remember giving the interview and all the emotions I felt at the time, and I can also vividely remember the events I'm describing.

So far I have read 53 pages. I've read myself describing my rape. I've read myself describing the abuse. Telling the police was hard enough - giving the video statement was emotionally and physically draining. It left me on edge for days afterwards. All those memories that I had tried to push to the back of my mind were suddenly swimming round and round in my head.

And now I'm reading what I said. It feels like a bandage that has been ripped off a wound far too soon.

It's difficult to read the words that I spoke, to know that I am a victim. I try to think of myself as a survivor - but those words that I spoke, written in black and white, those aren't the words of a survivor. Those are the words of a victim. It's difficult to read.

I am completely worn out. Every time I close my eyes I see the events that I described. It's as if I've travelled back in time and am experiencing them again.

If I'm like this now, what will I be like for a trial? I've only just realised how difficult the trial will be. I knew it would be hard, but after reading through my statement again, I've only just realised how completely and utterly drained it will leave me. I will be an emotional wreck. I will be exhausted.

But I'll be damned if I'm going to let that stop me. Yes, I will be a wreck. But I will be stronger for it afterwards. I've survived 5 years of abuse. I've survived being raped. I will survive reading this statement and I will survive the trial.