Thinking aloud.

So I know I have put a halt on police proceedings until after I qualify in Jan; until I feel strong enough. But I’ve still been gathering up evidence by myself. Yes, the police have most of it, his long confession where he admits he raped me (doesn’t apologise though), various emails where it’s mentioned and not denied by him etc.

Its still very weird because, I still hold all the cards and all the power against him. I have the power to destroy him just like his actions completely destroyed me. Its just, I don’t know, most of the time I’m not so sure I can be bothered anymore. I’m exhausted, I really am. Even now I’d still accept an apology most likely.. just some justification and understanding of what he’s caused me through what he did to me.  He called my home number back in June, I’ve no idea if it was to apologise, to cry down the phone, whatever.  I just so wish I would get a fucking sorry. His family and friends most likely tell him he’s done nothing wrong, I could not even imagine protecting a rapist, being friends with a rapist, being a sibling, parent or cousin of a rapist either. I couldn’t imagine visiting one in prison, either. Amazing how being so cowardly over an apology can lead to such destruction. I write this while sitting on a pub in Kings Cross. Lots of memories in this pub, most of which are bad, I have been back with other people since him, but it certainly leaves a sour taste in ones mouth. Not really sure why I’ve ended up here, I had plans in Acton, but truthfully I guess it’s almost nice to feel something, yep even sadness after being so medically numb to everything. God. Why the fuck was a simple sorry just too much to ask for? The police, a looming court case, none of which he is even fully aware of.. I just want my fucking life back. He stole my entire being in that fifteen seconds, hard to believe but he did. Staying with him after and all those love yous and still feeling so lucky at being in love with this guy.. It makes me feel sick to my stomach now. I feel nauseous every time I think of his hands on me, his lips, shared I love yous or handholding; I just want to be sick and scrub and erase all those memories out.

I just wish I’d been free to hate him from the off.

I want my mind back.

Sooo.

Remember I said I would wait to weigh myself today?

Well, I did.

2lbs down. I did want 3, but I’m fairly content with that; rather, I have to be.

That’s an old picture. When you could lift up my top and ribs would be there. It scared me at first; how noticeable they were. I love it now, the shadows, the depth.

I purged one time today also, I think I hid it well enough, although when I arrived home I did notice my mum had book called ‘Lighter than my shadow’ on her bed, yep you guessed it, all about anorexia.

I’ll stop when I get my BMI down. I started and it was 19.4 apparently that’s healthy.

Fucking hideous if you ask me.

I’ve been thinking about the rape a lot today. Perhaps because today I sat at the very table where he first told me he loved me. I remember how I felt in that moment. So safe, so happy.

Then I forced myself to remember how I felt during the rape. His ‘mistake’ – more like his attack.

Vicious cycle to be trapped in, that’s for sure. 

The truth.

I wanted to write this down, no not wanted, I need to write this down so I can look back on it and hopefully see a change in me. Hopefully. I wanted to write it for the numerous people in my life that I know also suffer with mental health issues, too.

You know, in my career looking after physically ill people, it is almost expected that a nurse should be in impeccable health, not a external, or indeed internal blemish, but I don’t think that is quite realistic. 

I attended clinical training today. I enjoyed it, it was interesting. I socialised, sat and ate lunch with peers and shared jokes and laughed at how little we all appeared to know. I probably appeared happy and carefree.

Fast forward a few hours.

My brother has just called the house phone fifteen times to try and reach my grandmother because he was worried that I had tried to hurt myself, again. This situation, the rape, what happened, has turned me into someone that I don’t recognise. I don’t like myself one little bit, in fact I detest myself in all honesty. Traumatic events, or fuck, no pissing reason even can instigate depression and its fucking torture. It is torturous. There is no other way to describe it, bleak. To be caught up in cycles of good days and then a big fucker of a bad one that undoes weeks of work is draining, its mentally exhausting. To be functioning on numb is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone, but when it is your only option, you try and justify it and pretend you are ok with it. It’s all bullshit. Who wants to be numb? I don’t. I want to enjoy life. I want to walk in the park with my daughter and not feel fucking vulnerable all of the time. I want to believe in good people again, not just waiting for them to reveal their bad traits just like he did.  I want to experience a bloody day where I am not completely exhausted by 10am. I just want to be happy again, properly happy not this fake happy that I have adopted to shut everyone up.

My brother who is not an emotional person by any means has spent this evening shaking and terrified about the state I have been in this evening. He said he is heartbroken. I needed to write this down because why should I hide it? Mental health affects most of us at some point and I for one don’t think I need to hide that fact away. Admitting struggles openly shows that I am human, vulnerable to whatever unfair shit life throws in my direction, and boy oh boy has it thrown some major shit my way.

People don’t need to be ashamed or indeed made to feel ashamed of any mental health issues that they are battling with, god only knows I have collected quite a bundle over the past year: PTSD, Depression, OCD, Anxiety, Eating disorder… lest we forget the constant feelings of self hated and guilt left over from the rape.

 Aren’t I a barrel of laughs.

My head is banging and I’m all cried out this evening. I write my blog posts because it is cathartic and it helps me. But tonight I have written this during a huge panic attack and contemplating some destructive behaviours. I don’t like feeling weak all the time, but to turn it on it’s head, am I weak or am I actually being really fucking strong, because I’m still here, and lord only knows that I have tried my upmost not to be. 

Mental health affects anyone, with or without cause. Be compassionate, be listening always, be ready to offer help, you don’t know how might actually be in need of it. 

An open letter to the onlookers.

I used to be so upset about what you were thinking of me. I reasoned with myself that I had been painted out to be some mad ex, as character assassination is the first thing a coward would do, and a coward he is. I lost a lot of sleep over that actually because I am not a bad person. Not at all, but I am somebody who is looking for a degree of justice.

I realise that it must be hard to admit that you are friends with a rapist. I suppose it is easier to believe that the victim is the wrong party, that way you don’t have to think badly of a friend, know what I mean?

I used to be so concerned about that. I felt so angry at the fact that there was no recognition for what he had done by the people close to him. That I was thought badly of when I had literally done nothing, and I mean – nothing. But now I know that it doesn’t matter, for two reasons:

  1. Who the fuck even cares what people that I met what, twice at most think of me? That is really unimportant. I don’t even remember many of their names, just by little comments that he told me about them. But yeah, why would I even be concerned?
  2. It doesn’t matter what they think of me or indeed believe because, I know what he did to me and so does he.

I may look like I thrive on attention, but that is also incorrect. I hate this. I have daily panic attacks, I’m medicated and just in a really bad way, so no, I do not thrive on this situation at all.

Am I jealous that he has potentially moved on? No. Sometimes it gives me a little kick in the stomach, but that is just due to having loved someone as much as I loved him, its always a bit shit, but a perfect remedy for that is to just remember what he did, and how it felt when he forced himself into me. To remember the physical pain that lasted for a good few days afterwards, a constant reminder. That soon deals with that feeling.

I will say this, though. good luck. Good luck once you have fallen for the nice guy routine and the real him is revealed. The emotionally unavailable, moody man who will make you feel as low as anything once you had gotten used to him making you feel as high as the clouds. The man who will compliment you every day until he decides to do something (a slap, a burn, a rape – two of those things with a child present) but because he is so amazing 99% of the time you forgive him. Every time you accept his pitiful reasons, his tears, his self wallowing – you love him and can’t imagine losing him. You will hold him in your arms and ignore what he did, how he’s hurt you, you don’t want to think about it you just focus on how much you love him.

But then he will do something soul destroying – and you won’t come back from it. Rape, for example. Or worse than that, you will need his emotional support more than anything or anyone, and he will tease you with it and never supply it, even though you fell to your knees trying to make sure he was ok, he won’t do it back. In fact he will watch you crumble in front of him, in absolute emotional agony. He will watch you breaking apart and then claim he thought he was acting in your best interest, you know, by watching you teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown. I experienced both at the hands of him, rape and the lack of emotional support surrounding our baby. So, good luck. I reckon you will very much need it.

I do feel guilt though. That I left it so long to report it, this whole time he could be on some dating app and be free to do the same thing to someone else who believes his charm offensive. Do I think he could? Well, he managed to do it to me and that was after telling me he loved me for nearly two years, helped to raise my daughter, bought me an engraved wedding ring, fitted in the shop and tried to get me to elope with him so, yeah I think he is capable. Sorry but I do. Also slapping me when I had a child on my lap, its not the actions of a nice person, is it?

Actually I won’t apologise for thinking that. What else am I meant to think exactly? It is not that he is ‘capable’ of doing it, but he has done it. Done it to me and I find it mental that people seem to think that its all done and dusted, everyone move on…when actually, no, justice is needed. End of.

Also, the more time I spend talking about the rape, it has dawned on me just how pathetic it is to claim that he was confused, like, if someone tells you that they don’t want sex – what is there to be confused about? So yes, I feel guilt that he could do it again, but I also realise that his actions are not something that I control.

I am safe now, he hurt me, hurt me terribly but now I am safe.

I can be labelled as whatever people wish to label me as. A liar, a mad ex, a bitch – whatever; because I know the truth of what he did. He knows the truth of what he did. Sometimes I have a mad moment and want to send his confession to everyone and make it known that I was never the bad one, but I refrain. That takes a lot believe me, because it feels like I am still protecting him which I HATE.

Anyway, I take great comfort in knowing that sometime, maybe soon, whenever, that the truth will out and everyone will know exactly what he has done.

‘C’est la vie?’ Oh, do one.

That was his whatsapp status for months after we split, when we were doing the ‘friendship’ thing, how glad am I that didn’t work out! And anyway, the moron can’t even speak a word of French, you should have seen him pathetically bumbling his way around Paris.

Anyway, I digress.

I used to read that and think he maybe struggled with us splitting, I know it messed him up for a fair while. I got the crying phone calls from him late at night, I would have to hear about really destructive behaviours that he was doing to himself, I got the calls where he threatened to top himself and then he’d go missing all night while I sat up desperately trying to get hold of him. Yes, I did it all to him as well, but lest we forget that he is guilty of it as well.. but I used to read that line, conjuring up all kinds of reasons why he would have it up, I read it much differently now, though.

‘That’s life’.

Hold on. 

That’s life? That’s life, is it? Getting away with rape you mean? Doing an unthinkable act and getting to leave it behind you without so much as a second thought, knowing you have absolutely destroyed someone’s life, that’s life, is it? Being SO pompous that you honestly think you have a right to even utter something like that. That’s life, oh fuck off. Stop even acting as if you ever cared about the carnage that you have left trailing behind you for everyone else to have to pick up.

That’s life.. I don’t have much of a life at the moment. 

So I gave myself until Sunday I believe to lose three more pounds, well, it’s Wednesday and I have lost two already, so at least I have control over one aspect of my life.

Oh, actually two! This afternoon I am meeting with the police officer in charge, to discuss things and see where to go from here. 

God, I just wish he had apologised properly for what he did to me. I never wanted this.

(9/08/17 – 8am)

Up, down. Up, down.

I took my first antidepressant last night, properly I mean. 

Takes four weeks to have a noticeable change in you apparently; why do I feel that four weeks is time that I just don’t have. I had to walk out of work yesterday because I just suddenly could not cope with my thoughts, the ongoing situation, all of it, it is really taking a toll on me, still. No matter how much I laugh and smile, joke around, it is always there and it’s destroying me quite frankly.

I am meeting with the police officer in charge tomorrow to discuss taking things further. I let slip to him yesterday that I had done something destructive the day before, had left work and been prescribed antidepressants. He turned up to my house, unannounced to check on me, bare in mind that he works in Central London. 

How kind is that. And how suicidal must I have sounded.

Oh god I don’t want to get up and face the day, I really don’t. To have to go downstairs and see that sofa where he did wha he did. Can’t I just be allowed to hide away, forever? 

Time to plaster on that fake smile yet again, for everyone else’s benefit..

Let myself down.

I had to sit in front of a GP today and speak about the rape, on the hunt for some antidepressants. I hate them, antidepressants, I think they act like a plaster and actually resolve nothing. However, considering I overdosed today, something is better than nothing I guess. 

I hate him for what he has caused, I wish more than anything that he could experience a tiny percentage of what he’s caused. I am so full of anger all of the time. I have been in floods and floods of tears today, doing something so drastic earlier on, I just can’t keep up this fake pretence of everything being fine and fucking dandy, when it isn’t, not at all. 

Anyway I am brimming with self hatred this evening. I feel disgusting inside and out and I let myself down big time today by being so upset, because he’s still winnning isn’t he. Still, another week to get back on track. Today my emotions hit me like a truck and I am not willing for that to happen again. I must stay in control, I must. I must not allow today to happen again.

Sunday today and I am 133lbs, if I restrict hard (600kcals per day) I’ll aim for another 3/lbs gone by next Sunday.

I need to stay in control and crippling hunger pains are a pretty good distraction. 

Yet again.

Head in my hands sitting on the bathroom floor for the second time today. Same as most days. I’m sick of this, I’m so fucking sick of this. I’m just done now. I’ve tried it before, ending it and it wasn’t successful. I took that to mean that I should be here. That it wasn’t meant to work.

But that thought doesn’t last long though.

This morning I started to get the ball rolling on my will. It used to stop me before, the fact that I didn’t have one so if my attempts to end it were successful then, who would have guardianship of my daughter? But now I’ve got the ball rolling now.

It’s weird really. I’ve been thinking a lot today about say if it was successful, would the police access all this? Would there still be justice even if I wasn’t around anymore waiting in pain? Would there ever be an apology for he whole situation? 

I can’t take living with this anymore. Some people might accuse me of attention seeking, but if you knew me you would know how incorrect that is. I hate attention, I hate spotlight. 

But I hate this more. I hate having to live with this, I’m not strong enough to cope wth it anymore. I’m tired, I’m ill, I’m mentally exhausted.

I’m pathetic, his action has made me worthless and I don’t want to have to go another fucking day feeling like this. I can’t. 

Here I am again, head in my hands. being sick and sobbing. What kind of life is this to ever look back on. 

I saw a picture of him today, having fun. I didn’t go looking for it, it was on FB, an old comment so I could see his new DP even though I have him blocked, never ever unblocked him though. But I could see it and the unfairness hit me like a tonne of bricks. He’s happy, he’s having fun, HES GUILTY. And me? Innocent, innocent. Innocent but ruined, crying on the floor, purging, hating myself, destructive behaviours. Grieving for the me that he fucking stole. 

How? The truth will out.

  • How can you hear the person you love saying no and stop it, and claim you were confused?
  • How can you feel that same person pushing at your shoulders, scrambling under you, and once again claim that you were confused?

I don’t think those things are particularly easy to confuse, really. If the person you are with tells you that they don’t want sex then, what exactly can you be confused about? Can someone explain that to me? Perhaps I’m missing something…

  • How can you, in your confession, talk about trust, when you so easily utterly destroyed mine in less than a minute, are you that stupid and lacking that much empathy? Moron.
  • How can you possibly, possibly think that you get to walk away without so much as a backwards glance to the sheer destruction that your actions have caused. Your actions, not you. Remember that, monster.
  • How about the impact that it’s had on my daughter, because it has, of course. You used to care about her, or so I thought.
  • How can you do what you did and show no remorse? 
  • How could you belittle me so much, by invading my personal space saying ‘you can’t prove it anyway, who would they believe?’ – actually thank you, thank you for opening my eyes to the real you, it got the ball rolling. 
  • How can you know that you have practically ended a life and not even give a damn about what you have done? 
  • How are you going to face me when this potentially could go to court perhaps, when you’re not even man enough to just say sorry, when you called my house phone and said nothing..
  • How have you let it escalate this much when all I ever needed was recognition and a fucking apology..?

It’s a really pathetic list, isn’t it, readers. Nicely fitting to the person who it’s about, I feel. A pathetic coward who is running from what he did. Not right, is it? 

I don’t think so. 

Unfair, immoral and unjust. 

Dwindle dwindle…

Restricting my calories every single day is sort of like (still) having an abusive partner, only this time, I can recognise it, if that makes sense. What ‘he’ did to me, once I allowed myself to confront it, that is, left me a shell of the person that I once was. No self confidence, worth or esteem. I’m as low as I have ever been and every single day I relive what he did to me. Yet, I convinced myself that I couldn’t be without him, that’s why I chose to protect him for the year and avoid thinking about what he was guilty of doing. Sacrifice fixing myself, my sanity to keep him have the water, when in reality I should have let him sink the second he did what he did to me.

Fucking around with my eating and severely restricting my intake is also abusive, I am not a fool, I can quite easily recognise that fact. But, on the other hand its highly euphoric, distracting from the rape when my stomach is churning and the hunger pangs hit and honestly, pathetically perhaps I have missed feeling in control, I really have. 
Things have taken a dark turn, yes. I don’t feel strong enough even more to try and make them better anymore. I have to ask why, you know? Why does he get to think he has gotten away with this? Why should I be expected to sit and accept what he did?
Why do people jump in and think it’s a mental ex or because I don’t want him to move on etc, when it’s just someone who was fucking raped looking for some sort of justice? Is that really so hard to see? I’m crying my eyes out while writing this, I am so exhausted and fed up. 

Why should it only be ripping me and mine apart? I did absolutely nothing, he did. I just don’t want to be here anymore, I can not keep trying so hard to just make it through a day. I don’t have the energy, guys. He has robbed everything from me, and he gets to not have to think about it, to not torture himself, daily just to find some sort of coping mechanism. 
I can’t keep this up. I know myself and I know I have reached breaking point now, and I’m scared. I watch myself waste away slowly, and I don’t think I even care. I reason with myself that I must be a bad person. Perhaps I brought what happened on myself? Perhaps if I wasn’t so pathetic, weak, and just all round a complete waste then I would have had higher standards? I thought he was perfect at first, everyone did, but perhaps he looked at me and only saw a pathetic person ripe for the picking?
I don’t know, but what I do know is that it has left me absolutely hating myself. I feel dirty and disgusting and nothing gets rid of those feelings. Nothing.