Building Blocks.

Building blocks – its another form of progress, isn’t it?

Lately I have been trying my very best, but it always seems to be one step forward, and about five backwards, but that’s depression for you, right.
For all my recent good days, and there have been a fair few, I have had a real shitty past few days. I do not know what has brought it on. Perhaps it is down to baby anniversary tomorrow (23rd), ten months since I said goodbye, or maybe it’s the fact that I am still hankering after my due, well, overdue apology from that rapist, it really gets me down that he thinks what he did is allowed to be ignored, because I don’t get that luxury – do I, so why should he?

I texted the Sexual Assault Officer when I was very upset last night, I didn’t want to call because I was sobbing, and didn’t want to be deemed as a victim, I mean I am, but crying over the phone about the rape when I have been trying my hardest to be strong – a bit counterproductive, eh.

I told him that I was unsure if I am able to wait so long to start with the court case, that quite honestly, this is killing me slowly and that I am so unsure what to do for the best, the best for me and my child, that’s all I am concerned with. Her seeing her Mummy with prolonged depression due to this – well I’m not so sure that is the best outcome.

I wish it was easy to rebuild my life, but honestly I am struggling so much. People will read this and think ‘a rape that lasted less than half a minute, come on…’ but that is so, so wrong. For nearly a full year after it happened to me, I kept quiet and I protected him by telling no one. That killed me every single day, but in my eyes he was the most important one and I wanted to keep him safe; I thought I loved him. I thought it was my role to put him first, I never questioned why he had deflected from his protector role, though.

The fact that I was so naive and foolish to keep trying to show him that he was loved, after what he had done to me, makes me feel so ashamed now days.
It has made me hate love. It has made me doubt love, but most of all, its made me feel so unworthy of anything to do with it.

Its astonishing how your soul and cognition can allow you to survive on autopilot, until you are really in the position to confront what had happened, a week, a month or like in my case, a year later on.
Time does not heal the agony or the pain, time makes it worse because its time spent and the other person hasn’t been called up on their actions – their crime.

I am positively fucking sick of it.

I am in no way ready or strong enough to face and battle through a court case yet, but, what other choice do I have? Stay living with the label of ‘rape victim’ – I can’t, it is killing me. It is absolutely destroying me.
I hope it eats away at him, like a bacteria. I hope he sits on his own totally ashamed of what he did. I hope he cries worrying about what his future holds, because that’s what he bloody deserves.

I used to not want anything to happen to him, he gave me baby and I thought I needed to respect him due to that fact. But I also gave him baby, didn’t I, and where the hell is my respect? Let alone also being his rape victim and the one person who kept him out of trouble for so long.

I’m not a pushover anymore and I am not willing on remaining a victim, either.

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