Introducing the story of my rape

TRIGGER WARNING: contains details of a rape, may be upsetting to those who are not ready to relive their own experiences.

Today I intend to show the world the story of my rape. I have started this blog in order to show people what rape survivors go through, to show people the strength which we can find in the hardest of situations, to talk about my journey (as part of my healing), and to show people (who have had similar experiences), that they are not alone, and that it is ok to talk about it. Below is a brief summary of an experience that I had last year.

Last year I was raped by a guy I had been seeing. He doesn’t realise that he has raped me. It took me months to come to terms with the words ‘rape’ or ‘sexual assault’. I told myself that I didn’t fight him off enough. I told myself that it only last for a few minutes.I told myself it was just sex that I didn’t want to have. Now I know that I was raped. But he doesn’t. When faced with that heavy word RAPE. He blew up into a temper. “I’M not a rapist! Rapists are scum of the earth. Rapists deserve to rot. Rapists have no ounce of humanity in them.”

So now he walks the world, not knowing that what he did was in fact, rape. A rapist is in fact human. A rapist doesn’t have to be mentally deranged. A rapist can in fact, be in pain, seeking control. But the harm and destruction that they cause is unimaginable, unimaginable until it happens to you.

He broke into my room one night, a few days after I ended things. We had just spent a lovely evening with our friends. It was the first time in a long time that I had felt like myself. That night I forgot to lock the door. He came into my room and crashed on the bed. I tried to get him out, but he is twice the size of me. So finally I lay down in my bed beside him, unable to sleep with my eyes open. Why didn’t I leave? THIS THOUGHT HAUNTS ME TO THIS DAY. As I awoke the next morning he was taking off my clothes. Why didn’t I shout and scream or try to run away? THIS THOUGHT HAUNTS ME TO THIS DAY. He pushed me on my front with my head pushed into the mattress. As he inserted his penis into me, I repeatedly said no. Why didn’t I shout and scream? THIS THOUGHT HAUNTS ME TO THIS DAY. For five whole minutes I said no, no, no, no. Instead of focusing on what happened to me. I focused on the word no which I was saying.

After that, I got up. I got on with my day. I didn’t get a shower. I didn’t go to the police. I carried on as normal. Trauma doesn’t work in the way we expect it to. It’s not like a movie. Terrifying at the time and no repercussions later. We don’t react in the way that you would expect to either. For months, I carried on living my life. Living in the same accommodation as him, avoiding him at all cost. Sleeping in the same bed I was raped in. I studied, I listened to music, I spent time with my friends. I couldn’t afford to break down. I was studying abroad, away from my family.

It wasn’t until I knew that there was solid support beneath me that I really started to fall. My mind was riddled by questions, not only of the event, but of every sexual encounter I have ever experienced. The person that I am was lost to everyone and myself. I cut myself off from everyone I loved. I couldn’t let anyone see the person I had become, and with no explanation. Who I was in every sense of being, was lost. Until one day I decided to start building myself up again.

The journey isn’t over yet and still questions and memories haunt me. Sex isn’t easy either. However, I have found a strength and understanding which I didn’t even know was there and it only grows by the day.

I have now decided to write this blog as a way of expressing my experience, but also hopefully as a way of helping people who were in similar situations. I want to explore the details of rape which are ignored, which no one talks about. I want to recount an honest, ugly truth, but most of all, I want to find the light in the darkness.