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.

Depression.

I used to think I had suffered with depression before; recent times, this part year and a half really, have taught me otherwise. 

I’ve never known anything like this. Its not a sadness, it’s a numbness. Its a devastating sudden apathy to every single thing that you used to love, the things that made you, you. 

I’m in bed currently, feeling my world closing in, quicker than anything. My diabetes care today has been nonexistent and I’ve eaten nothing – might as well self destruct 100%, no half measures here, ha. 

I want to crumble and cry hysterically, but I can’t. I just feel too numb to even cry, super weird right.

I just want to sleep but I’m too exhausted to, my brain is going as fast as anything as well. Nothing is stopping the flashbacks today, I hate it. I feel myself back there, underneath him, the pressure and the smells. Every nerve ending of mine relieving it and I just hate it so much.

Another afternoon spent in bed, crying, shaking and relieving every tiny detail of what he did. 

Its so easy to pretend that I’m not on the way out.

It is so easy to pretend that my life isn’t falling apart.

Its so easy to pretend that everything is ok when no one even bothers to check.

Its so easy to do what I’ve done this morning. To sit on the bed, crying quietly, missed insulin dose, missed breakfast, just wanting everything to fucking stop. I just want it all to stop.
Its just so easy to stay living in a place that you were raped in, that’s what everyone thinks. Apparently I’m hard to talk to, and it’s so way for everyone to not even try.

I just give up. I just give up. 

Hate or indifference..? 

Or just numbness, really.

I was walking home from work late last night and I just wanted to stop and start crying, hysterically out of nowhere. I don’t know how or what to even feel at the moment. People tell me that the best revenge or being strong is to improve, hold my head up high and act like it doesn’t bother me, the rape. That me being depressed is him winning.

Like it’s that fucking easy? Really.

He raped me.

There you go, easy to move past? Someone you love being able to do that? Someone doing that to you, in your home environment, really? Its ok is it?

I struggle every single day. I bet he doesn’t though, he gets to pretend he never did what he did, never having to think about it and gets to be the long distance mate, or the nice guy in the office.

Well that’s not the real him, I saw the real him when he did what he did and that’s something I have to remember daily. When he ignored me trying to push him off. When he ignored me pleading with him to stop, grabbing at his shoulders and trying to push him off me.. And that’s what I struggle with, that.

I’ve most probably been tarnished as a mad ex, and you know what, I would dare any other person to be in that situation and not to act a bit mad, when battling with that. That. 

What he did to me, you’re never going to behave well after finally confronting that serious damage, are you? That’s just human nature after all.

What that piece of vermin did to me, and pretended for months that it was an accident; knowing full well that I was so in love I would buy that excuse and everything would be fine, you know? And I pretended that for a long time, ignoring the pain, depression and anger it caused me. I hid that from everyone because I cared more about him, it’s pathetic and I can see that now.

So, I don’t doubt for a single second that he doesn’t care about what he’s caused, if he did he would be man enough to just say sorry, to ‘his victim’; but he’s a cowardly piece of vermin without a doubt.

So, we’ve been left with bad blood.

Is there a solution? Aside from either a proper and I mean proper face to face admission and apology, or the whole court case. The police already have everything they need to bring him in, it’s me that’s stopping them at the moment, depression and apathy; what a kicker.

I’ve lost another KG as well, the familiar never ending anxiety and apathy is back in full force and I can’t even manage a full meal. Its different from restricting because that makes me feel in control, which I crave; but this? This just fuels the pathetic victim facade that I’ve been hiding behind to stop having to confront how fucked up this all is.

I don’t even have the energy or self belief to make any kind of decision. How can he do what he did and be so inhuman to think he can leave it behind him? The sheer destruction he’s caused by his action(s).

I don’t find that human in the slightest.

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. 

Strong women.

The news at the moment is brimming with reports of Hollywood tales of rape and sexual assault. It’s incredibly upsetting, but also, awe inspiring as to how unbelievably strong these women are being. It makes me incredibly proud that they are finding their voices again, and reclaiming their power.

It makes me sad when I read their reports and I immediately can identify with how they felt, the anger, the guilt, the self blame and hatred. The belief that it was down to them. It breaks my heart that I understand how they felt in those few moments, you know?

I wonder if all this sexual assault and rape has ever once made ‘him’ feel bad about what he did to me; whether the guilt suddenly hit him in the stomach when he realises that he is no better than the monster in the news, because he isn’t, is he? Down to the bare bones of it.

Anyway, I won’t allow him to ruin yet another one of my days.

But strong women reclaiming their souls and fire; what a beautiful thing indeed. 

Headache.

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.

Yum!

A..B..C, just modified.

So, feeling fat, feeling horrific and just a pathetic, weak rape victim.

I need to regain control properly, my God I mean properly! No restricting for a week but then binging and having to purge, like a pathetic fat cow. I have been conducting some research about some Pro Ana diet plans that I can work into my day to day routine.

I like the sound of the ABC modified diet. The original one boasts fasting days as well, which are not feasible for me, due to being a bloody diabetic. This one, the modified one, has no fast days but still allows for some pretty big restrictions.

Here it is:

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I feel that tomorrow is a fantastic time to start, yes I am at work for 13 hours, but sitting down on a training day. A nifty little fruity breakfast and 1/2 a can of weight watchers soup for lunch; roughly 38kcals and then a nice salad for dinner…

I’m actually super excited to stop having to purge, and now have a basis to get back in control of what goes in my body, MY body.

Having been raped stays with you, you know. Daily you feel well, not in control and you CRAVE the feeling of being in control of your body once again, because I wasn’t in control was I? If I was he would have never been able to do what he did to me.  I, and only I now controls what goes in my body.

I will never lose control again. Not ever.

Submerged 

I feel like shit. I look like shit. I am shit.

Those are horrible things to think about yourself, aren’t they? Constantly, nonstop. Day in and day out. 

I had been doing better, much better recently. My moods had improved, I was finding enjoyment in things that I haven’t for a while, and I was really championing myself again.

Then I missed ten antidepressant doses in the trot. 

I’m not sure why I did that. I think at the start it was because I was busy rushing around after everyone else, overtired from night shifts and then day shifts without an adequate break to adjust… but then the apathy set in, the ‘what’s the point’ view crept back that I had fought off before. The flashbacks reappeared and kept me up, the headaches and the withdrawing from the world took hold. 

I’ve really not missed the flashbacks. They are so prominent and it’s like I’m right back there again, with him on top of me, me sinking into the sofa, pushing at his arms, begging him not to, the shearing pain, the smells, the rain on the window, all of it. The flashbacks are even more horrendous than they sound. They make me cry for hours afterwards and hate myself even more.

My eating also took a complete nosedive as well. Back to restricting, craving control over what goes into my body, obsessing over tiny details in private, while acting normal in front of everyone else concerned. The meds had stopped that, they had brought my appetite back, they stopped the destructive cycle of self hatred that I was committed to.

I have started taking them again and now trying to rebalance everything.  Why does everything have to be such a fucking struggle, I didn’t ask for any of this, you know?

If I’m on the way up, then just let me keep going in one direction.