Tuesday, March 04, 2014
Of course, I had things I disliked. Sometimes the attitudes of some of the people I work with drive me crazy at times. Of course, I had days where I couldn't wait to leave, or when I didn't even want to go to work.
But most of the time, I felt like the luckiest person in the world. A good job, that was 90% fun.
Now ... Now, I hate it/ HATE it. I feel anxious when I'm going to work. I feel sick with fear while I'm at work.
Will today be the day I lose my job? Will today be the day I do something else that's insignificant and upset the boss?
I hate this. I hate it so very much.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Not in terms of tragedies or horrible things.
But when we don't stand up for ourselves,
When we let someone walk all over us,
We show them it's okay to do that.
It's okay to treat us like crap, because hell, it's not as if we're going to stand up and say, "Hey, don't do that!"
I've been seeing a new guy.
He is really, really lovely.
Funny, and smart, and he challenges me like crazy.
But twice since Monday, and three times in the last seven days, we've had plans, and he has either cancelled or just hasn't shown up.
Last week, he was coming around after cricket training.
He didn't show.
Tuesday, he was coming around after work.
He didn't show.
Tonight, he was coming around after work.
I sent him a text just before 5 to tell him that I'm home.
Then, and only then, does he decide to tell me he's a few hours away and won't be home until after 9.
I keep wondering, "what have I done??"
I just want a decent guy.
One who makes plans, and keeps them.
One who makes time for me, and understands that I have to make time for him, because I have work and uni.
I don't want someone who is there all the time. I don't need that.
I don't need to be attached to someone 24 hours a day.
I just want someone to hang out with. Have a few laughs, some fun.
Don't I deserve someone who won't cancel on me at the last minute?
Someone who won't just disappear, then reappear the next day when it suits him?
Sometimes I'm too patient for my own good.
I'll give you a second, third and fourth chance.
Even when it's obvious to everyone else around me that you don't deserve it.
But tonight, I can't help but wonder ...
Is this when I put my foot down?
Does he deserve another chance?
Should I be standing up for myself and saying,
"Hell no. You don't get to treat me like this. There for whenever you happen to be free."
Either you make time for me - and you follow through and show up when you're going to - or you lose me.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Sometimes I feel like I've been through the worst of it, and I'm coming out the other side.
I made it. I'm a survivor.
And then sometimes, life hands me a reality check, and I realise that I'm nowhere close to coming out the other side. I haven't really dealt with this.
I've still got so far to go.
Sometimes I can't believe the changes in me, when I look at the person I was before the rape, and the person that I am now.
Some of the changes are pretty obvious. I'm less trusting. I'm more fearful. I have nightmares, flashbacks. I suffer from anxiety now, and can't handle huge crowds. Sometimes even small crowds are too much if I'm having a bad day.
Other changes are not so obvious. I'm angrier, inside. I'm more bitter. I'm quicker to judge people. I get annoyed faster. My patience used to be almost endless. Not anymore. I've gained a lot of weight. I eat for ... Comfort? I eat because I don't care enough to take care of myself sometimes.
Late last year, the police told me they didn't have enough to press charges.
That it was my word against his, with not much evidence to back me up.
I knew what the outcome would be when I made my statement to police to start the investigation.
I always knew they'd find it almost impossible to get enough to charge him.
But still, I went ahead.
It was never about getting him charged. It was never about having the case go before a jury.
It was about standing up and saying, "What you did was wrong. I should not have let you get away with it. I'm telling someone, and I'm making my voice heard, and maybe, just maybe that will be enough to stop you ever doing it again."
There was a part of me that wanted to cause him hell.
That wanted vengeance.
That wanted to put him through something, anything.
It was nothing compared to the nightmare I went through, but I knew they wouldn't charge him, so it was all I'd get.
And then they called me, and they said, "Sorry. We can't charge him."
And I went to pieces.
I fell apart.
I knew it was coming, I knew they'd find it incredibly difficult to get enough, but there was the tiniest part of me that kept thinking, "He did something really fucking awful. He did something so horrible, so traumatic to me that they HAVE to find a way to make him pay. They'll find something, and they'll be able to charge him. He will pay. He will pay for raping me, for making me think he was going to kill me. He will pay for turning my whole life upside down, and inside out."
But they couldn't do it. There wasn't a piece of evidence that made them go, "Aha! We can charge the prick!"
So once again, I picked myself up, and put myself back together.
I gathered my courage, and tried to move on.
I took comfort from the fact that they told me that he was ringing the police station constantly.
Trying to find out what was happening with the investigation.
Whether he would be charged.
Ringing the station, all the time.
"What's happening? Are you going to press charges?"
(Guilty conscience, anyone?)
That was my comfort. That was all I was going to get.
So I grabbed it with both hands, knowing the truth about it.
Knowing that every dog has it's day. He'll get his.
One day, he'll pay.
And I thought, that that was it.
That I had my closure, and I could move on.
I knew the outcome.
I had tried to fight, but it wasn't enough.
The regrets haunted me.
Why didn't I go forward sooner?
Why didn't I keep the evidence of the stalking, the terror that he'd put me through?
How many times could I second-guess myself?
How many times could I think the same thoughts, over and over?
How many times could I think about the same regrets, over and over?
It was done. Finished.
He was going to get away with it.
That was on me. That was my fault.
And then, last week, I had to go to court.
For something that's sort of related.
And the Magistrate.
The lovely Magistrate.
Looked me right in the eye, and asked me to stand.
So he could speak directly to me.
Because he had something important to say, you see.
He told me that he had read the entire police brief.
He read my statement.
What happened to me.
He read the interview they did with the rapist.
He read through all the statements they took to support my story.
All the investigation the police did.
The medical records.
And he had the most curious look on his face, as he told me,
"They made a mistake. I do not understand why they didn't charge him. In my view, they had enough."
He made sure he still had my full attention, and he continued,
"They had more that enough, to charge him. To take it before a court"
I wanted to ask him what he saw.
What was in that file?
What did you see, Sir? What did you see that made you feel that way?
He suggested to me that I ask my lawyer to contact the Office of Public prosecutions, and ask them to review the case.
That they can override the police decision, if they agree with him.
They can have charges laid.
So now I have to wonder ...
Is it worth reopening the wound?
Is there any point to taking a chance?
Risking the disappointment when they tell me they still don't have enough to charge him?
I had made my peace. I took their decision not to press charges, and I made my peace with it.
it was difficult.
It broke my heart, and crushed my spirit.
But then, I got up again, and kept moving.
Can I do that again?
Or, what if they agree?
What if they say, "yes, we can charge him."
"The police made an error."
Can I face a trial?
Do I have the strength?
Can I tell the world what he did to me?
Can I take the humiliation, the hurt that I know a trial will bring?
Am I strong enough?
I've already picked up the pieces so many times.
One day, I'm going to break.
And I won't be able to put myself back together.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
Saturday, June 08, 2013
I wonder if you know.
Do you know who he is? What he is? This person that you're apparently engaged to … Do you know what kind of person he is? Deep down inside? Do you know what he's done?
Do you know that almost one year ago, he held me down and raped me, so brutally that I bled? That when I told him he had made me bleed, he simply laughed … Do you know that?
I wonder what he's told you. Has he told you that it was consensual? Maybe he told you that I wanted it, that I changed my mind afterwards?
Maybe he's told you it was nothing.
It wasn't "nothing". It wasn't consensual. I was begging him to stop. I cried and I begged, while it felt like he was ripping me apart.
I wonder if he's told you that I'm just trying to ruin his life. That I'm just trying to cause trouble.
I'm not. I could care less about him. I just want him to pay for what he did.
Because he knows. Deep down, whether he admits it or not, he knows what he did. He won't tell you that he raped me … But that's what happened. And he knows it. And so do I.
I wonder if you know.
I wonder if you'll find out the hard way what kind of person he is.
Tuesday, June 04, 2013
Monday, June 03, 2013
Sunday, June 02, 2013
Less than four weeks later, my entire life was turned upside down and every single part of my life was changed after I was raped.
So many times over the last eleven and a half months, I've fought to keep going. I had days where all I wanted to do was walk out in front of traffic. Days where taking it day by day was too much, I had to take it hour by hour, sometimes even 10 minutes at a time. Days where I felt so broken, so raw, so depserately disconnected from the world.
Days where I doubted I'd ever be anything close to the person I used to be.
it was the most horrific year of my life. That night ... I thought he was going to kill me. That night was hell on earth, and I lived through it.
I lived through it. That thought has kept me going, even in my darkest moments. The hardest part is over. I lived through the horror of what he did to me. I lived through it, even though he tried his hardest to break me. To intimidate me.
I know I will never be the person I was before the rape again. That girl, she is gone forever. He has changed and impacted every single part of my life.
But I am stronger. I am stronger now than I've ever been. I might falter some days. I might fall apart sometimes. But, inside me, I am stronger. I really do believe that I'm coming out the other side. I'm walking back into life. I'm making plans again. I hope to have uni finished by the end of this year, ready to do teaching at La Trobe next year. My plans took a detour, but I'm getting there.
Happy birthday to me. Watch me rock 30. This will be my year. And no rapist, no bastard coward will get in my way. Happy birthday indeed.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
(I know, I know, Megs. I'm sorry)
I've been thinking about doing a post all week ... But we're heading to exams (next week) so stress levels are high.
Maybe later this week :)
P.s. I just have one thing to say about the teenage girl who racially abused Adam Goodes last night - disgraceful. Should be ashamed of herself. I'm glad they booted her out of the stadium. We need to stand up to racism.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
This time, while I could theoretically use a thousand words to describe the emotions of my recent experiences, it would still not really tell anyone what has happened, how I've reacted, or what I've felt. Emotions are raw. So much rawer than words can ever be. Not everything in life can be described, despite the fact that everything you experience in life can be described by the emotions you were feeling at that time.
Rape is such a simple word, but loaded with meaning. To those who have experienced this violent act,it can be a struggle to say this little word, especially when trying to describe what has happened. Personally, it was not a word that I could say, write, look at or even think in those first few weeks. To have another reminder, to have to use the word when talking about myself, was too painful, far too painful.
I have been called strong, I have been called courageous, I have been called brave, I have been called amazing, I have been called "warrior woman", I have been called a voice for other women, just because I decided to report what happened to me. While it was not an easy decision, while it was the most difficult thing I have done in my life, the truth is that I am not brave. I am not strong. I am not courageous. I am scared. I am weak. I am nothing but my worst moments, I am only really as strong as I am on my weakest days. I have times when I feel like I am strong, I am capable, I can take whatever is thrown at me ... But until I can say that the good moments outweigh the bad, then I am not strong. I am not okay.
While the reaction that I have had to reporting my rape to the police has been positive - by the few people in my life that know, anyway - I cannot help that feel so unbearably sad that it's notable and unusual that I have reported it. All the statistics say that rape is one of the most under reported crimes in the world. Estimates vary, but anywhere from 50 - 90% (or more) of rapes and sexual assaults are never reported. One book I read recently said that in Australia, it's estimated that only ONE percent of rapes are reported. One percent! One in every one hundred people who are raped report it. One percent. How did it get to this? Why do victims feel as though they cannot or should not report it? What stops those other 99 people from reporting the horrific act committed against them?
As a victim, I can think of several reasons off the top of my head without even trying – fear – fear of judgement, fear of the offender, fear of consequences following the reporting, fear that grips you so hard it feels like you can’t breathe. Fear of humiliation. Feelings of shame, embarrassment, anger, sadness, anxiety. Being unable to handle going through what happened, step by step, minute detail by minute detail.
Every victim has a different story. Every victim has a different experience. Every victim has a different reaction. Every victim has a different ending to their story. Something in our justice system needs desperately to change so that reporting a rape is not seen as brave, or unusual. It needs to be seen as the norm. As something that's expected. Something in our justice system needs to change so that every victim gets justice through the criminal system. Victims need more support, easier access to better services and help to get their lives back in order. Every victim deserves a happy ending to their story. Every victim deserves to find the happiness that they lost when they were raped.
Saturday, December 01, 2012
― Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes
― Sarah Dessen, Just Listen
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
Monday, November 05, 2012
So, I cried. And then I mourned. And mourned some more.
Until, finally, last week, I purchased a new camera. It's not waterproof, but it is So. Damn. Cool.
I''ve been playing around with it for the last week since I purchased it ... So, here are some photos!
Sunday, October 14, 2012
I'm terrified, so terrified, but I have never felt stronger.
Maybe it won't go anywhere, maybe nothing will come from it, maybe it'll just cause more hurt for no gain ... But I have to take the risk. I want him to be held accountable for what he did to me.
I am terrified. But I know I can do this.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Tuesday, July 03, 2012
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
- I should have stopped him.
- I couldn't stop him.
- I fought as hard as I could.
- I didn't fight hard enough.
- I should have screamed louder.
- I screamed, I begged, I pleaded and it did nothing.
- What is wrong with him?
- What is wrong with me?
- How do I leave this behind me? How do I move on?
- I can't forget this. I can't move on. How can I move past it?
- I don't want to tell anyone.
- I can never tell anyone.
- I have to tell someone what he did to me.
- He's a sick fuck.
- I hate him.
- How did I get it so wrong?
- I thought I knew him.
- What happens if I see him again?
- It hurt so, so badly.
- It still hurts.
- I am sad.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
By someone I know. Someone I know hurt me, and scared me, and has changed me forever.
I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to cope with this.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Dear H***** H****,
But I've got good reason to think that you're the person who stole from my car one night as I slept.
Unluckily for you, you got caught in the same area that I live, stealing from cars, and leaving them the way that mine was left after the theft. Maybe it's a coincidence, but somehow I don't think so.
You probably don't care to know, or even think about, how devastating the theft was to me. As a uni student, to have a bag stolen from me which contained my uni diary, some assignments and paperwork, a USB with all my uni work on it, my new prescription glasses that I'd just paid $150 dollars for, and used my health insurance allowance for the year on … I can't even tell you how upsetting it was. All that stuff is useless to anyone else. There's nothing of value that you could sell. But it was so distressing to me. Knowing that I'd have to somehow find the money to replace my glasses, paying the full $300 out of pocket as I'd already used my health insurance excess – was incredibly upsetting.
I work my arse off to pay my own way in this world. I work full time and study 30+ hours a week. I get no government assistance. I usually manage to just make ends meet, and extras or luxuries aren't really an option for me. If something unexpected pops up, then I have to put in hours of overtime and hope that I can stretch the budget to make it work. Financially, it's always a struggle and although things are never easy for me, and I don't get many treats, it doesn't really bother me. I just make do.