Rape Culture

Okay so this last year has been challenging to say the least. My entire life has been turned upside down by what I experienced even when I told myself that it wouldn't have that level of power over me. It did and it was something I could not control. Control is something I have always needed to feel safe. As the eldest daughter of two mentally ill individuals, control was something I needed both for myself and my autistic sister whom I still feel a huge responsibility for.

TW:

Last year I was drugged and raped by someone I trusted, someone I thought of as a friend. He knew and knows many of my friends, knows my partner and how devoted I am to him. None of this made any kind of difference despite the remorse he expressed while abusing me. “I shouldn't be doing this, you're my friend” are words that will haunt me til my dying day and at the moment any part of that is a trigger for flashbacks and anxiety for me. I was officially diagnosed as having Post Traumatic Stress Disorder only perhaps a month ago but been treated for depression and anxiety since March. At the time of my rape I told one friend 10 days later and a doctor 3 weeks later when testing for any long term effects was viable. Thank goodness I haven't been injured in that way nor through my naivety or stupidity hurt my loving partner.

I was scared and unsure about sharing what had happened with anyone. I have always had male friends and thought nothing about it (and I'm sorry but even now don't believe the hype about how girls and guys can't just be friends.) Rape is about power, jealousy and possession. Yet still I felt I would be judged on my action or inaction, on my friendship, dress, the fact I had drunk two cocktails earlier in the day and a pint and a half in his company. I was scared of being accused of buyer's remorse, accused of infidelity or of asking for what happened to me. To use the words of our ‘rape culture' society I was scared of being “a slut”, “a cheat “, a “good time girl”, “a flirt”, a “cock tease” of “leading on”, “tormenting “ , “encouraging” or “goading” my rapist. Because of course: wearing a skirt (which was below the knee anyhoo, like it makes the slightest of difference ) and wearing make-up are considered ways in which we, as women, make ourselves vulnerable. God forbid we should drink the occasional cocktail or wear anything form fitting as that obviously means the buffet is open. I hate the way that teenage girls and what they wear is sexualized and that girls in schools can be considered detrimental and distracting to male students’ studies.

Our attitude as a society needs to change. Our degradation and scepticism of other women needs to change. Since I acknowledged that I needed help in dealing with what has happened to me I have had much more support from male friends and experts than female. (Although I have experienced incredible support from people of all identifications and likewise; rather shitty ones.) After telling a locum general practitioner that I was suicidal and in desperate need of help (after finally disclosing to my partner what had happened ) I was given a 15 minute lecture on how I owed it to other women to report it to the police; despite the fact that in his own words it “would decimate my career and character”. As a teacher in my local community I couldn't or didn't feel able to do that. And yet I seriously feel shame at that admission ! I had always considered myself an advocate for others. I am someone who has taken safeguarding issues to Social Services and the police. I will fight with my dying breath for someone else, their fight, their agenda. So why not my own? And that ladies and gentlemen is why I feel like such a hypocrite . That is why I feel so desperately sad that people need to hide or even fail to acknowledge their experiences.

The poor NHS struggles to meet the majority of people's needs despite its oh so willing teams of staff, carers and professionals . They should be commended on the work they do under our government and such limited resources. In order for me to receive the specialist treatment that I needed (and still do) would take 10 months to even start. I am so very luckily in the position to be able to pay for psychological care in the short term (by taking some smallish loan and seriously extending my overdraft) but there are so many people who are not as lucky as I.

Since working with my clinical psychologist I can acknowledge that I have had a number of traumatic experiences throughout my life. Most of which I managed spectacularly and with some form of clumsy grace. The blame placed upon my physical disability for my grandfather's final heart attack, the partner who wouldn't accept ‘no’ very early into our relationship; that I just gave in fighting against physically and mentally. The horrendous amount of physical health issues and the pain that accompanies them are all elements that I considered made me stronger and more empathetic, effective and considerate in my career. There is however still a price to be paid in looking after the interests of others ahead of or instead of your own. In that if something happens to deplete your super power then you can be left with nothing. My depression and anxiety stole away my career, my confidence and a number of my friendships. The physical implications have resulted in a serious decline in my health that has detrimentally affected my independence. (Who knew that a massive amount of stress could mess with your blood sugar to the extent that you don't even realise you were in a car accident.)

Dealing with life after rape or sexual assault seems rather boobytrapped . There are so many triggers and associations that can take you back to that moment or pain that extends far beyond any physical damage that was experienced. As mentioned before I am engaging in specialist therapy and trying to get my life back on track. This means confronting many of the things I have been avoiding since my attack in August last year. I had a holiday booked with a very close friend before my disclosure emerged and was encouraged to take said holiday. Part of it involved being amongst many people in a festival type environment . I will be honest and spoke to my psych regarding fears of becoming lost or stranded. Alas unfortunately it happened and I spent quite a significant time alone, scared and rather disorientated. I found someone who wanted to help until I found out it was more about having a grab of my boobs. As soon as I told him to beggar off I was alone again.

I walked through the vast camp and sat in a field for a while to try get some rest. When I woke up there was a guy staring at me. I got up and started to walk away. He grabbed me by the arm and ripped off my shorts with his other hand. The force of this sent me careering to the ground. I turned over as he got a better grip on me and slammed my crutcher as hard as I could into his face. From the amount of blood I saw, I am very proud that I must have broken his nose. Whatever law enforcement may be reading this please don't think badly of me. I have always been incredibly non violent and it gave me chance to get away. I have taken photos of the extensive bruI sing that prompted my retaliation in case it ever becomes an issue.

Please tell me what is so wrong with wanting to live in a world where people are not owned, possessed or objectified? Why should people be judged on their choice of outfit, their availability or attractiveness. Seriously gentlemen or women who are abusively inclined; remember that nobody desires your unwanted attention. No means no whatever signals you may feel you are getting. If you can not control yourself don't leave the bloody house or at least get some serious treatment before you expose anyone else to your issues. It isn't right to take your desire or troubles out on anyone else. Get your shit together, seriously... or I promise... next time it will be more than a broken nose!

Anonymous Survivor (no thanks to you dickhead .)