I’m going to do what I do when going into a cold swimming pool. I’m going to hold my breathe and jump straight in. Deep breathe. Jump.
14 years ago I was raped.
What I’m going to try to write about and to share with you just now is making me feel utterly panic stricken.
My body has tensed up. I feel heavy. My chest is tight. I feel sick.
I feel guilty. So so guilty.
Why then? Why would I write about whatever this thing is that makes me feel so dreadful?
The truth is, if it’s ok with you, I think it may help.
It may just help me to face the fact that it did actually happen. To release the agony and disgust that I’ve felt about it for more than 14 years.
And the guilt. Dreadful guilt.
And in turn, it may help me to find the answer as to how I can make amends for keeping quiet for all those years.
I did open up about this in the summer with Handsome Doc and 2 very dear friends.
It helped. Thank you dear friends. Thank you Handsome Doc.
But I’ve still not faced the demons.
I’m jibbering already.
This is taking me so far out of my comfort zone I can’t even reach back to it with my ridiculously large fingers (I have unnaturally large hands. Don’t know why, and it’s not the time to make light, but I really do).
Ok, here goes.
I’m going to do what I do when going into a cold swimming pool. I’m going to hold my breathe and jump straight in.
Deep breathe. Jump.
14 years ago I was raped.
I was raped.
I was raped.
I was raped.
I’m absolutely rigid with tension. I’m too numb to cry. I’m dying to type but don’t want to.
To type more means explaining what happened.
I’m dirty and embarrassed.
I am in disbelief. This just did not happen to me. Did it?
Ok breathe, ‘talkandcheese’, breathe.
I was dating a guy (animal) for a few weeks, but soon realised that he wasn’t for me, so went through that ghastly process of finishing it, whilst trying not to cause any hurt.
This guy had seemed perfectly decent.
There were no alarm bells of any great consequence. We just didn’t have much in common. And crucially, I realised that I didn’t fancy him.
Plus, and this turned out to be the most devastating decision I have ever made, I decided I wanted to get back together with my ex.
I feel sick. I feel angry. I feel absolutely numb. I want the animal to suffer. I want him to feel as helpless as I did.
The tears have started to flow now. Second time ever since this happened.
This animal was angry when we split up. He said I hadn’t given us a chance.
I somehow managed to draw these conversations to a close though. I didn’t want to lead him on. We had to end it, surely? You can’t date someone out of pity?
Around a week later, my ex (by then, current) boyfriend was at my house.
And yes, we did get back together quickly, but that’s ok, isn’t it? I had only been dating the animal (feel sick and frozen) for a few weeks.
It was around 4 o’clock in the afternoon.
I had been at work in the morning. I presented a breakfast show at the time so had come home for a nap after a horrible 4.30am start before ‘current boyf’ came round.
His car was parked outside the house and the meter was needing more money.
I ran outside to top it up then nipped back into the house.
Around an hour later, ‘current boyf’ left.
I was pottering indoors.
The doorbell rang.
I assumed it was ‘current boyf’. Maybe he’d come back for an extra little kiss?
I opened the door.
The animal was standing in the doorway.
Without meaning to be overly dramatic, he filled the space. He was 6’2” compared to my 5’2”, and build like the proverbial.
I was shocked to see him but before I got the chance to ask any questions, he grabbed me by the shoulder, swung me round and marched me to the bedroom saying just three words:
“I saw you”.
There was a long-ish corridor between the front door and the bedroom. Why did he drag me down there? Why was the bedroom in any way relevant to what he was going to do?
It’s all a bit of a blur. I still feel as though I’m writing about some other poor soul’s experience. This is surely not my story to tell?
Crying and shaking so much now. Sobbing. The bastard. The absolute bastard. How fucking dare he?
The most frightening and vivid recollection I have of this is the feeling of being held down and of being completely helpless. I couldn’t move.
Oh bloody hell this is hard.
He did what he had come to do.
He told me in a terrifyingly calm and quiet voice that he’d been in the pub opposite the house all afternoon so had seen ‘current boyf’ come into the house.
He’d seen me topping up the parking meter.
He’d seen ‘current boyf’ leave.
He’d crossed the road and rung my doorbell.
He’d been watching me. Stalking me.
Bipolar or not this would have happened.
How I dealt, or didn’t deal with it, is not down to the fact I live with bipolar.
Has it triggered lows? Yes, but surely that would be the same for anyone who has lived through that, wouldn’t it?
Oh I honestly don’t know.
What I do know is that I carry enormous guilt. No, not for the reasons you may think, but guilt for not having reported this animal.
I know I should have. Not for me, he’d damaged me already. For others. To prevent it from happening to others.
This is so hard.
I ought not to publish this.
I may not.
I’m not ok with this.
I mentioned that I’d opened up once before. Back in July.
It took for my dear friend to call it what it was.
Up until that point I had never thought of myself as having been raped.
I had been badly treated by an angry ex. That was all.
I know that may sound utterly ridiculous and that I may sound dumb, but I think it was my mind’s way of protecting me.
Or was it protection? Probably not actually. It meant I never dealt with it.
Thank you blog! Thank you.
I’ve just written so much, deleted it, rewritten it and deleted it again.
I know what I must do now. I think.
Now that the wound is open I’ve been forced to face what happened.
The guilt will not ease, and nor should it, until I take action.
I’m still not breathing. In fact I’m now bloody terrified.
But I think I know what I must do. I think.
Thank you for reading this. Thank you for allowing me to share.
Thank you for allowing me this platform to clear the dark fog around what’s been a ghastly, deep rooted burden for so many years.
Keep safe and keep well. x