Today marks the 6th anniversary of the day I was raped. The day that changed my life forever. It's been a while since I wrote anything about my life. Part of that is because I've been dealing with healing and moving on, or at least trying to.
For the most part now I'd like to think I am coping well at least with being raped. I've learnt a lot about myself, my strengths and weaknesses. I've learnt about the things that trigger memories of that day, and how to avoid them, and what to do when I do have a flashback.
I wouldn't say I've recovered, because I am not sure that you can ever recover from rape. I think you learn to accept that it happened and that it wasn't your fault. You can't go back to the person you were before it happened. It's not possible after such devastation. However you can learn to cope with it and move on with your life. You learn to gradually take control back, and for me I guess it empowered me and gave me the courage to fight for what I believed in, which was recognition and confirmation, from the powers that be, that he did rape me that day.
If you've read what I've written before about what happened to me, then you will know that the CPS decided to not prosecute him. The reasons at that time I did find hard to accept because I knew that given a chance to tell my side of things I was sure I could convince a jury to believe me. In hindsight even though I think the CPS made the wrong decision, maybe it was in my best interests at that time.
He had you see made threats in e-mails which the police had copies of downloaded from the server at the University, where he was a student. He was very manipulative, and had threatened to expose my parents, in particular my father, for his involvement in child pornography and for abusing me. I'd kept that a secret locked away deep inside of me for over 30 years, but the memories had just started to surface. Odd snatches that I had recalled and shared with him as a trusted friend, not realising that they would be used against me like he did. He threatened to expose my ex husband as an abuser, as a violent and cruel man. He threatened to expose my son's problems he'd had with drugs, which my son and I had worked so hard to deal with, and had succeeded. He threatened so much that would involve so many people, family and friends. I know now, as he probably realised then, that if these things were brought up in a court of law, many people would be exposed and hurt by it, including myself. I'm not sure I would have been strong enough to deal with it.
I mentioned a history of child abuse. It was the rape that unlocked the doors on the deepest part of my subconscious mind. The flashbacks and nightmares of the rape combined with snippets of images from my childhood. Terrifying for me and for those around me who witnessed the horror as I relived the memories day in day out.
I went for counselling for the rape. I learnt to cope with the flashbacks from that. I eventually managed to talk openly about that day, and about what he subjected me to.
I've talked before about his sick fantasies, but not in any great detail. It was the mental images he conjured up with the words. The jewish woman in a concentration camp. Being tortured and raped by her captives. Being treated like filth, mind and body subjected to vile acts without any concern for the pain or the degredation she was going through. I was that woman. He was that captor. He threatened me with a knife, threatened the lives of my children. How is anyone ever supposed to rid themselves of those images, of the pain and terror? You can't. Time makes them easier to deal with, but they resurface time and time again. You just learn how to cope with them. It seems ironic that the day after my rape in this way, became a memorial day to those who perished in the Holocaust. So, every year I am reminded of the way in which I was raped. I can't escape it even if I wanted to.
I mentioned that the CPS didn't proceed with my case. That didn't stop me proceeding with Criminal Injuries Compensation. That sounds like I wanted to gain monetarily from the experience. That wasn't the case. No amount of money could ever compensate for what he did to me and the damage he caused me both psychologically or physically. In my case it was about being believed, about being able to tell my story and know that on record he was guilty of raping me.
It was a long hard struggle. The case like most I've come across who've been raped was rejected twice. It went to appeal and then eventually to tribunal 4 ½ years after the rape in August 2002. The tribunal was cancelled once because of the Queen Mothers death earlier in the year.
I'd worked hard to gather evidence and statements from people close to me, including my children. The evidence bundle was a real eye opener. For the first time I was allowed to read the man who raped me's police statements. I couldn't believe the lies and deceit he had got away with. Everything had been twisted and manipulated into a version of events about my life and friendship with him that bore no resemblance to what I had experienced. He was a con man through and through.
I was advised by a friend who had been through a tribunal similar to this, to find a lawyer to help sort through the evidence bundle and find the gaps where more evidence was needed to help my case. I used the same firm she had herself used. I was grateful for the advice. The lawyer appointed a barrister who accompanied me to the tribunal.
When I was given the date for the tribunal I had to contact the witnesses who had willingly given character statements and evidence on my behalf which had been included in the evidence bundle. They were expected to be present to be questioned. The guy who I had been in a relationship with at the time I was raped, and who had supported me while I went through flashbacks and nightmares. The person who was my prime witness decided with no reason or explanation to e-mail me out of the blue a few weeks before the tribunal to say he wasn't prepared to do it and never to contact him again. To this day I still have no idea why he made this decision. I know that it felt like a kick in the stomach. It was too late to remove his statements, and although the barrister could have applied for a court order to make him attend, I felt that if he wasn't man enough to do the right thing, then he wasn't worth the effort. I know I, nor my children will never forgive him for it.
The day of the tribunal arrived and I was terrified. I hadn't slept much in the days leading up to it despite taking the sedation offered by the GP. We arrived at the tribunal early to meet with the barrister. He ran through the format so I had some idea of what to expect. It was only then that I was told that the guy who raped me hadn't replied to the invitation to attend which was a huge relief.
The barrister accompanied me into the tribunal. It was very official, and there was only one other woman there, a retired police superintendent. One woman and 6 men. I was asked to retell my version of what happened that day. They wanted every last detail. It was hard to stay composed as I recalled that morning. The tears rolled down my face, and I had to stop several times to try and regain my composure before going on. They listened in silence. Then they fired questions at me. I felt like I was on trial. I knew I had to prove it happened. I knew it was my word against his, and that they had read all of the evidence. I felt dirty and small, made worse by some of the intimate details they asked.
After what seemed like hours, but in fact was probably less than an hour, I was told to be seated. The panel put their heads together and after just a few minutes informed me that the unanimous decision was that I had indeed been raped that morning. There was no doubt in their minds that I had spoken the truth. I couldn't stop myself, I burst into tears and started to shake uncontrollably while uttering my thank you's to them all. They didn't need anyone else to help them reach their verdict. They didn't interview my children for which I was relieved. It was bad enough that my son was the one who found me after I had been raped, but they had all been through the mill enough having to watch the constant nightmares and flashbacks.
The day I had waited for had arrived. I was believed. I was raped, and it was officially recorded. That was all I had wanted. That's what I had fought for, to stand up and tell what had really happened that morning, and to be believed. That day was the start of my real recovery.
The knowledge that I was believed was the validation I needed to take a long hard look at my life and decide where the changes needed to be made, and the problems I needed to face up to. I'd had this tribunal hanging over my life for 4 ½ years and although I had made considerable inroads into my healing journey, the reality was that it had come to a standstill. I couldn't go any further until the tribunal was over.
During the years preceding the rape I'd had lots more memories resurface from my childhood. Slowly I had started piecing together something that seemed to make little sense. I guess I didn't want to admit that it was something that had actually happened to me. It was easier to pretend that I was making it up, or twisting the memories into something that bore no resemblance to anything I'd ever come across in child abuse survivors.
I'd already been diagnosed with PSTD (post traumatic stress disorder) and was awaiting psychotherapy. I was assessed and offered psychotherapy starting in September 2003. I knew I was ready to deal with my past, even though it left me cold and terrified of what I may find.
Now, some 4 months into it I'm slowly starting to trust my therapist enough to start exploring the dark recesses of my mind where the deepest darkest memories are stored. I've learnt a lot about myself, and how my past has shaped my life. I have recognised cycles of behaviour that need to change to make me think like an adult instead of reverting to old learnt behaviours.
I've learnt that the past can shape how we live our lives, but also that past coping skills can be relearned and redefined to deal with situations differently.
I've learned that you can trust some people, although not everyone, but it is ok to feel that way too.
I've accepted that my past abuse was not my fault and that I didn't ask or choose for it to happen. I had no control over it as a child. I've accepted that I was abused by many men in my life both physically and psychologically. I understand why I allowed myself to follow this pattern, and accept it rather than escape it.
I have a name for the abuse I suffered as a child. SRA (Satanic Ritual Abuse) Although I still live in fear of speaking out about it, I do so with the mind and body of an adult, not of a child.
I accept I have an inner family. I know I have a lot of work to do to integrate them, but I am starting to learn more about them as individuals and why certain situations make them appear.
I've learned that masks are useful in certain situations, but that it takes a lot more effort to keep them in place than it does to let people see the real me, warts and all.
I've learned it is ok to say no to people. I've learned that I am as important as they are, and so is my healing. Sometimes I need to concentrate on myself and not give all of myself to others, leaving nothing for me.
I've learned that it is ok to love and to be loved. I've learned that love is unconditional, and that no matter how hard you try to push someone away, that if they truly love you they will always be there, no matter how hard you try to destroy the relationship. They accept your past and understand the difficulties you have, and support you through the rough times as well as sharing the good.
I've learned to stand up to people who try to put me down with lies and twisted truths. I have a voice and an opinion like everyone else, and now I use it. Some people find that hard to deal with, but I've been quiet for too long against bullies and abusers I've come across in my life.
I've learned that I need to love myself and not abuse my body with violence, food, drugs or alcohol. Over eating added surplus weight which acted as physical barrier to stop anyone getting close to me. Another way of protecting myself from getting hurt emotionally or physically. Now I've recognised this I've started to do something about it. I've started looking after my health by changing the way I think about food, eating healthier and taking more exercising. It's paying off. I've lost 2 stone in 2 months and feel much fitter and healthier in the process. The self harm has stopped.
I've learned that there is a future to look forward to. I've learned that I am in charge of my own destiny, and that I can shape it, and pursue it the way I choose to do so. I don't have to just accept what life throws at me. I have choices and a say in what happens.
I've learned that there are 4 very important people in my life. My partner Mike, and my 3 children. They have supported me and helped me more than they will ever know. They have given me reasons to carry on when I've been at some very low points in my life. Points when I've contemplated ending it all. Points when I've been so desperate I couldn't see any other way out. Points when I've been wracked with flashbacks so severe and frightening I've not been able to tell what was reality and what was memory. Between them they have given me that strength to keep fighting, to keep struggling onwards and upwards.
Most of all I've learnt that there's no going back to the person I used to be before the rape. You can't go back, only forwards. It's no good dreaming about "what if's "or "if only's" It is just wasted negative energy. What happened happened, and you have to accept it and learn to move on.
I think 6 years on, that I have.
©tiana January 26th 2004
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Last updated 26th January 2004