Sexual abuse is a surreal experience in my mind

Sexual abuse is a surreal experience in my mind. I used to ask myself if I was really abused or imagined it. I am fortunate to be in a constant state of healing over the years, rather than let abuse continue to drag me down. That isn't to say I only have good days, there are bad days too. In moments of pain or confusion or anger I remind myself to be bold and make a stand. When I say, "At this moment I am hurting over the abuse of my past" really helps me to let go of the past while acknowledging my whole self at that moment. Some days are hard, and I wonder how I can make a difference in this world. There is hope, and hope is within each one of us. My heart goes out to each one of you, and I offer the hope within myself to you too. By holding hands with our own pain, we can then hold hands with each others pain and heal together. Today I am planting seeds of love and hope within my heart, and I am scattering them in your hearts too. The seeds will grow whether you water them with tears of sadness or tears of joy.
by Allyon 17 Feb 2006

I know it sounds stupid, but I never really thought that real people were raped; they were always fictional characters in magazine articles or faceless silhouettes on TV shows. So, looking back, I guess I just always took my mum’s worrying with a shrug and casual nod any time I went out clubbing or drinking with my friends. Probably like most of my friends still do today. The night it happened, I was still in a post-break-up/teenage phase of drinking too much and having a good time with my girl friends. I was 18 and probably quite naive. I had only ever had one serious relationship before, and it was a happy, respectful one. There was never any pressure to go the whole way, and we never did. We were both young, and things gradually came to an end in our relationship anyway, before we took that step.
It happened at a school friend’s birthday party, surrounded by the people I had grown up with through high school and 6th form. I felt totally at ease, in a fun and giggly party mood with people I trusted. I had only gone out with a fiver, but friends bought me drinks, as we always did whenever one of us was broke at the time. This is including the guy that did it. Yeah, we were friends, we had gone through high school together, been in the same classes, shared jokes and songs together in the past, celebrated each others’ birthdays. It makes me sick to think it now. I can literally feel it in the back of my throat as I write.

This guy bought me quite a few drinks throughout the night. We danced, got a bit flirty due to the alcohol, and kissed on the dance floor. I don’t actually remember this bit, I was too drunk by then, but a couple of my friends filled me in days later. Anyway, he then took my hand and led me outside “to get some fresh air” and I foolishly followed without a second thought.
What happened next I can only remember in pieces really, painful flashbacks in my head like something from a horror movie and two things that he said that will stick with me like a never-ending echo: “suck my c*ck” and “you’re over him now, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and I can only assume he was talking about my ex, who he had always been quite good friends with as well. I could hardly stand, never mind cry out. All I could manage was a feeble slur “ow” when he was doing it, slumped against that cold brick wall with my tights and underwear pulled down as he had left them. I didn’t even know what was happening until I felt the sharp pains. It knocked the breath out of me. When he finished, I think I must have gone straight into shock. I numbly pulled up my tights and he took my hand and took me back nearer to the entrance of the building, then told me he’d see me later and left. One of my friends came up to me looking worried. Apparently people had been looking for me for ages. I blurted out what happened. She had no idea what to do. I wouldn’t have had either. She hadn’t been drinking that night so that she could drive, and the pre-arranged plan was for her to drive five of us to a club in town after the party. I sat in the front with three others behind us. Apparently my mum called my mobile at that point to check up on things, and I answered it and sounded normal. I almost didn’t believe my friend when she told me about that after. I have absolutely no memory of it whatsoever. Looking back, I know I was in total shock.

My friend didn’t know what to do; she asked if I wanted her to take me home, I apparently just shook my head numbly, so she drove to the club like she was supposed to. I feel so bad for her now. She must have been at such a loss as to what to do. I didn’t speak a word the whole time we were in the car or in the queue for the club, just stared straight ahead, not seeing anything. When we got inside I burst into tears and we told my other friend what had happened, and they took me back to her house. We went to bed.
Next morning I lay there with my eyes open for god knows how long. My friend made me call the doctors but they were closed because it was the weekend. I hung up and told her I had to get home. As soon as I was home I told my younger sister, who was 16 at the time. I was so frightened and humiliated; I just did exactly what she told me to. I couldn’t think. She was so good. She took me to get the morning-after pill, which we had to buy from a shop in town, and looked after me all day. My mum and dad noticed something was wrong with me later on. I told them I didn’t feel well. Later in the evening I told my mum with my sister. I think it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but somehow I choked out the words. She was hysterical, distraught. She called the police, and they confirmed it could be classed as rape, and it was up to me if I wanted to press charges. There was no way I could make any decisions, I just cried. My mum told my dad the next day for me, I couldn’t do it again. My sister slept in my room with me for the next few nights; I just didn’t want to be alone.

I felt so sick, humiliated, ashamed, angry, and alone and frightened, despite people being there for me. There were only a very few people who knew about it, including my ex and another mutual male friend. They had taken the guy home, as had been planned before the party. My friend told me that in the car the guy had laughed about it. That’s how they knew something had happened. Later on I told my male friend about it. He said he hadn’t realised, so I don’t know what the guy actually said to them. He denied it was rape though.
Apparently my ex didn’t know who to believe, he was torn between one of his best mates and his ex-girlfriend. It killed me that he was still in touch with the guy, still spoke to him. Months later we talked about it to each other directly for the first time. To be honest I don’t even know today exactly where he stands with it, even though he did apologise and tell me he was there for me. I don’t think I want to know though. It would destroy me if I found out he was still friends with that evil, twisted son of a b*tch.

I trusted that guy. We had all been friends. I was so deluded. He had a bit of a reputation with girls, but I always thought he showed a different side of himself to me. It was like he was a bit of rough with a soft side, and I trusted him. Obviously I was stupid and wrong. He has caused me more pain than I ever thought possible, and I wait for the day that he gets what is coming to him, what he deserves. Since this happened 11 months ago, I have caught glimpses of this guy a couple of times, when I have been out in town at home, back from university in the holidays. I don’t think he has seen me. When I saw him, even for those split seconds, I froze for a second, numb with fear and went stone cold all over, feeling like I was going to be sick and faint at the same time, then turned and ran to the nearest toilets and locked myself in a cubicle, shaking all over and crying. It makes me sick that I had to see him again when he should be in jail for what he has done to me. But it’s my word against his. What can I do.

Everyday I think about what has happened in some form or another and I don’t think it is going to go away. They say “time’s a healer” but as the months go on there are always going to be those little things that remind me of him and what he has done. A million different things can trigger something and I’m brought back to that night in a second and it hurts so much. Without fail it leaves me feeling so desperately alone and helpless again. No one knows what to do or say, and it is so frustrating, because I don’t even know myself what I want them to do or say. I feel guilty, too, that they have to hear about it. It sounds ridiculous.

Sorry this is so long, I had to get it out. I’ve never tried doing this before, but after reading others’ stories, I hope that it is going to at least help me try and let it go. Thanks for giving me the opportunity.
by Anon girlon 13 Feb 2006

Labels: Sexual abuse is a surreal experience in my mind

posted by Robert Heard at 7:02 AM