Ups and downs.

This is me. This is the face hiding behind these long, emotional posts.

This is me. A 26 year old who has had enough trauma for an entire fucking life time.

This is me. The woman who holds her own and amazes herself by reaching the end of the day, a little easier every time.

This is me. The woman who decided that she wasn’t fucking scared anymore and actually had a date last night, travelling right through where ‘he’ lives. A few minutes between us. I felt sick, but not scared.

This is me. The woman writing this while on a night shift, no one around me knows how weak I’ve been guilty of being, but also how fucking strong I have also been. Its not something I should feel that I need to hide.

Yes. I was raped. I was the victim of partner rape. He hurt me beyond belief and it is an ongoing process – recovery. But I’m not scared now and furthermore; I’m safe.

Its incredible how once you look inside properly and address the hurt and the wrong doing of someone you loved, the only option left is to showcase how you are the good party. That no matter how much a coward tries to break you down or falsely facts; it is me and only me that can strive to be better and to get better. He isn’t even human.

So, this is me. Strong. I may not look it and I sure as hell don’t feel if. But I’m still here and still trying.

Pretty fucking strong if you ask me.



Hardly surprising considering I was under 700kcal yesterday. Pretty happy with myself, I’ll do the same today as well. I’m on a 13 hour shift again, but should be fine. I’ve had 100g of zero fat yoghurt this morning, half a banana and a cup of black tea. I’ve made myself a litre bottle of lemon infused water for my shift today, as long as I drink enough that should stop the headache from building too much.

I’m refusing to weigh myself until Sunday at least, I’m hoping to have lost min 3lbs by then, I’m in a huge deficit after all, and doing min of around 17,000 steps a day (ward life).

Hmm, a better take another banana with me, just in case!

Then perhaps half a salmon salad for lunch.


Him, totally down the rabbit hole, again.

I have been meaning to write this for a few days, now. To feel that release of having it out of my mind, but my depression took over big style and all my energy has been used up trying to claim my mind back again.

A real constant battle, I tell you.

I have been down, very down the past few days and could not work out why, then I realised it has been an exact year since we broke up, me and the man who I realise now was/IS just evil. Its a funny one because, I’m not sitting here upset that its been a year without him around, not at all, I’m upset because its a year of my life that had still be robbed, because of his actions finally hitting me, he managed to steal my year without even being around. Some may say that its my doing, I could stop it, but to those people I would say that they have clearly never experienced something like I have; and I hope that they never do.

I kinda went radio silence regarding the rape and the police involvement, I know. I went along with their police involvement and sent them all the evidence that I have; which is more than ‘he’ seems to know. His confession where he states that it was a rape and nothing else is one thing, yes they can trace it back to his phone number and the location, but theres more.

Emails between us where I mention it and he doesn’t deny it, he mentions it as well, a text message from his sister even on my old phone, stating how shocked she is that he slapped me – do me a favour.

But yes, there is much more than he realises. I might have been completely, completely in love with him, but I was never stupid.

They were about to go and bring him in for questioning, and my depression took a total nosedive, I mean, I wasn’t functioning. In 13 weeks I will be finishing my degree and qualifying as a staff nurse, I need to ensure I complete it, for my sake and my daughters. It was not the right time to be dealing with the CPS, even though its the only thing I want. I decided to put it on the back burner until after Christmas, that does not mean he has gotten away with what he did to me at all.

Lets not get it mistaken here, I am the one holding all the cards, not him, not at all. I can have him rotting in a cell for however long, or signing a sex offenders register every single day for the next however many years, I can do that to him.

I don’t know if I am happy about that or not, though. Recently I have found myself wondering if he ever thinks about what he did to me. If he ever curls up in bed and cries about it, like I do. If that sinking feeling fills his stomach at random moments sometimes, when he thinks about the damage he has caused someone who he once claimed to love, you know what I mean? But those are human emotions and I’m just not so sure he possesses them anymore.

I owe him nothing at all, I realise that, but, I suppose that’s the issues with indoctrinating behaviour isn’t it? He laid the ground work pretty well; I struggle only thinking of the bad things even now, because he was a blessing the rest of the time and made me feel like I was flying nonstop. I, certainly was in love and truthfully, I hate that now. I do hate that it took a further 7 months to really allow it to hit me, what he had done to me, and that I had told him a few times that it doesn’t matter, that it was a mistake and that I’m alright, he must have thought his luck was right in.

Because its not fine, its not. Its not fine that my daughter has to have a severely depressed Mother. One who fucks up her eating and has PTSD, just because of what one piece of shit did to her.

I don’t think that’s fine.

His family and friends most likely telling him that he’s done nothing wrong, acting as if I’m the bad one most likely, when in reality, they are protecting a rapist and someone who thought it was ok to slap me when I had a child on my lap. I wonder if they ever look at him and it dawns on them that he’s a piece of shit? And actually there is other stuff he has kept hidden from his family too; why is he so comfortable thinking that I am still going to protect him and keep quiet? I owe him nothing after all.

The case, I will come back to, most definitely. I need to, its the right thing to do, I can’t allow him to get away with raping me, and what issues its caused me? Its life altering and life ruining quite frankly.

It eats me up daily and I wish I got the chance to face him, just to show him that I am strong now, stronger, and he’s not won. He’s NOT won. I want to look him in the eye and tell him just how much he disgusts me and that I regret ever, ever allowing a piece of vermin like him into my life.

I hate myself for EVER telling him that I am ok and that’s the end of it, because its not.

He can enjoy the radio silence while I get my life seemingly back on track; but this is never going away, I hold all the cards and power. I’ve been told the evidence that I have is very, very good, better than the police usually have to work with. Its been a year now.

You know, I’m laughing now because I remember him saying to me once, ‘You’re just doing this so no one else will want me’

Like, no, I’m doing this because you’re guilty of raping me, you stupid, immoral, unpleasant, abdominal maggot.

A disgusting maggot who robbed me of my peace of mind and soul. A piece of vermin that made me hate myself, for being a rape victim. Because I do, I absolutely hate myself.

He’s not getting away with it anymore. He’s not. You’re not.

You have not won.

So, hey. 

I haven’t posted in what seems like forever. I’m not sure whether it’s because I’ve been super busy with work or that I’m just permanently exhausted due to this shitter of a bout of seemingly never ending depression, and y’know, what’s the point in even bothering.

I feel huge and disgusting most days. I have stopped even looking in the mirror (full length body ones, I mean). I feel disgusting and actually seeing it is triggering as hell. I have been eating like a pig. The antidepressants have brought my appetite back with full force, which I really detest. Furthermore I can’t cope without them, I tried for three days and ended up sliding back into the depths of depression once more.

So, basically, I’m either a disgusting fat worthless pig and a pathetic rape victim, or I’m emotional and downright mental as shit, but not eating. 

Choices choices, eh. 

God I hate myself so much and my self esteem is still at small time low, I’m currently sitting on the sofa where he raped me, laughing at myself. What a joke I am! 

A funny, funny, fucking joke. 

A parasite 

That’s what it feels like, this depression due to what he did to me. People try to excuse it, people have said to me that it wasn’t proper rape because we were in a relationship, people have told me that I don’t have a right to be so ruined by something that took less than a minute.

I’m strong enough now, well, sort of to be able to shout and scream about how wrong that is. Being in a relationship at the time excuses nothing, the fact that we had slept together loads of times doesn’t change what happened on that single time – are peoplemrally dim enough to think that? So it lasted less than a minute, and? Let me say this to everyone, when you are saying no, struggling and attempting to push someone off, someone you trusted with your life a few moments before; then twenty odd seconds feels like hours. 

Allowing myself to confront what he did to me after ignoring it for so long was awful, quite honestly. However the absolutely hardest thing I have ever, ever had to do was walk into the police station and report it, his act, him. I still can’t honestly believe that I got myself to that point, I summoned strength that I was not even aware I possessed really. 

But that is what I feel it is, a parasite. It’s taken over my body until I don’t recognise myself anymore. A weak depressed person. A person who denies herself food sporadically, to torture myself, maybe. To feel in control of something, yes. To distract myself from the flashbacks that still wash over me in waves; I rather feel hunger pains than feeling the physical aspects of those flashbacks. 

I don’t know. I feel like something has taken over me completely. Controlling all of my thoughts and actions, staring bleakly out of my eyes and just viewing everything with black and white glasses these days. I’ve never known low mood and exhaustion like this. I’m so tired, I even feel too tired to keep pushing for justice, but something always spurs me on, the need for him to face what he’s done I guess. The need for his friends and family, and another vulnerable person that he’s fooling, the need for them to know what he has done. Why should my family have to see me suffering, really suffering due to his actions, and his lot get to not have to know what a disgusting rapist they are harbouring? 

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.