This is not just my story. I was not impaired by alcohol or drugs (I dont use either). Three men raped me — vaginal, oral, and anal. Violated. Robbed of everything I was. Scream. What did I do to deserve this? There were others present. They raped my friend. I couldn’t save her. I fought with everything I could think of… biting, grabbing, scratching, kicking, a headbutt. Disposable. Made it to the hospital wearing a garbage bag. Bloody. Bruised. I had all my torn clothes and one shoe. It seemed like forever before the crisis advocate showed up. Frozen. Worthless. Called my Dad. Ashamed. Cry. Completed SAFE Kit. Horrified. Prescriptions. Speechless. Consented to reporting to authorities and testing of SAFE kit. Robotic. Talked to a counselor. Flood. Told forensic evidence was solid to convict. Assured they would find the men. I believed. Therapy. Traumatic. Work 2 days later. Paranoid. No leads. Therapy was ok until he groped me and tried to unzip my pants during a session. WTF!!! This is not really happening! No forensic evidence equals no case. More therapists. I had stripped down to bra and panties. Not working. Therapist number 4 referred me back to crisis advocate. Serious trust issues. Working with a retired psychologist I know and trust. “I feel…” Her suicide attempt. Distraught. Hopeless. Trust someone. She is safe. Fragile. Reveal voyeristic sexual assault. No forensic evidence. I’m not going there. Think about it. Progress feels slow. Healing is not linear. It sucks! It’s exhausting! PTSD. Initiate EMDR therapy. Broken. Practice coping. Restricted calls. Male. Who? “F*ck it” list. Cathartic. More trust. Hesitant. Difficult. Struggle.
This is where I am on my journey. Survivor. Coping. Living. The ultimate goal. I vote for “Me”.