As some of you may know, a few days ago I blogged about being raped. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever written about. The following day I was so raw. So down. So numb. The most overwhelming emotion though, was guilt.
Fear and guilt, actually.
Oh, and embarrassment.
Why? Well, I think I’ve worked it out now, but I just couldn’t get my head round it for days.
The fear was to do with the fact that I had opened up, and having done so, what would the consequences be?
It was nothing to do with the animal strangely enough. He can do one. Bastard.
No, it was more that you, you wonderful people who take the time to read my blogs, may question why? Why on earth had I made the decision to recount this horrendous event from 14 years ago?
What was I hoping to achieve?
I have discovered that blogging is cathartic for me, but my main aim has always been to try really hard to offer some form of comfort to fellow souls who may be fighting a battle.
We’ve all felt isolated and misunderstood at times, and I’d love in some small way to alleviate these horrible feelings for even one person, even in a small way.
Had I done that with this blog though? Or had I just been self-indulgent?
Had I written something akin to a sensationalist tabloid story, worthy of nothing more than something in which to wrap your chips?
These are my insecurities, I know, but as I’m sure you may at one point or other have felt, they can seem very convincing!
I’m ok with it now though. The feedback I’ve had has been with such love and support that I feel happy I’ve done the right thing.
Fear and guilt? You can jog on.
And thank you. Thank you so much for your wonderful comments and Twitter messages, they meant the world to me when I was feeling more fragile than my mother’s Denby crockery.
As for the embarrassment, well it’s probably self-explanatory. Or is it? I’m not sure.
It stemmed from, and this is very difficult for me to say, but it stemmed from feeling embarrassed at anyone actually picturing me being attacked.
At anyone picturing me in such a helpless and humiliating situation. At picturing it actually happening.
That’s ok though. I’m ok with that now.
There was also embarrassment at having been in denial for so long.
I’m not generally stupid.
Well, I do have my blonde moments.
Only yesterday did I pour apple juice into my son’s cereal rather than the semi-skimmed milk that he favours of a morning breakfast. Easily done though, it was early!
I get it now though. I’m ok with that too.
I wasn’t ready to process the reality of what had happened. A self-protection mechanism had subconsciously kicked in until I was strong enough to face up to the horror of being raped.
I’m stronger now. I can deal with it better than I would have done before.
Thank you subconscious powers. Thank you for looking after me.
Now as you may well imagine, Handsome Doc and I talked about the attack before, during and after writing my blog.
Poor, poor Handsome Doc. How utterly horrible for him to have to think about the woman he loves going through this.
He has been nothing short of amazing though. Strong on the outside whilst hurting on the inside. He is, as I’ve said before, my rock and my hero.
Thank you Handsome Doc. Thank you for being wonderful you.
He raised several really good points during our conversations, one of which has stuck with me.
Again, it’s not easy to say. But let’s face it, this whole thing is very intimate and challenging, so I’ll plough on.
Following an attack of this nature, I think many people have great difficulty forming personal and sexual relationships. Understandably.
I know that immediately after the attack I did too.
The newly rekindled relationship with the ‘ex’ who became ‘current boyf’ again after I’d ended things with the animal didn’t last.
I couldn’t bear to be in an intimate situation. I felt scared. Scared and dirty.
It took time for that to change.
Time and a lot of denial as we have now established.
I managed to bury the hateful acts of the animal so deeply that it was as if it had never happened.
I moved on with my life.
I went to work as normal.
I met people.
I met men.
In time, I met men who became boyfriends. Not all at the same time I may add.
In that respect, I feel so lucky that I was in denial for so long, weird as that may sound.
Were it not for my loving and nurturing self-conscious looking after my heart, my life as I know it now may have been unrecognizable.
No relationships would have meant no MK for starters. How awful?
My wonderful, funny, bright and loving 5 year old MK, who brings joy and laughter to my life every single day.
MK who has been my saviour when the dark days have descended. He’s my miniature superhero.
Thank you MK. Thank you for being glorious, mischievious you.
Yes. I do feel lucky, but I also feel sad.
I feel terribly sad for all the poor battling souls who have been affected in the way we spoke about earlier.
Should it be of any comfort whatsover, I am sending out so much love, support and strength.
I received a beautiful message from a lady who had read my blog this evening, and she said that in every bad situation, some good can be found.
As I said to her in my reply, I actually believe that too, although it can sometimes be bloody difficult to find the good at the time.
The good for me is that I can share my experience in way which I hope helps others.
I wish so much for the good to show itself (and soon) for every single brave soul fighting their own battle right now, and I truly believe it will come.
Keep well. x