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.

Self destructing with a fake smile attached.

  • Breakfast was 90kcal
  • Lunch will be non existent because I’ll be with the police and my stomach is already in knots
  • Dinner I’ve premise some cabbage soup, that’ll be around 100kcal due to some other ingredients.
  • Day time snacks I’ll allow for another 100kcal.

Coming in under 300kcal for the day.

I should find that upsetting or wrong even, but I just don’t. I like knowing that my focus will be on crippling stomach/hunger pains and not playing the rape over and over. Th antidepressants don’t stop that, I wish they did. I don’t know how to get it to stop. It’s on repeat in my mind, nothing makes it go away, even concentrating on something else it is still there, perhaps not at the forefront but fuck me, it is still as damaging being in the background even. 

Anyway this picture I have attached is me this morning. I’ve lost more weight but the real big change is the trousers. They are a size 12 and used to be so tight on me, not now. When I lay down earlier there was so much room in them that I could have wriggled out even!

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. 

Revolting. Weak. A joke. 

Yep. Pretty much sums it up, doesn’t it?

I have a good career. I have a wonderful child. I have a loving family. 

But I feel like a failure and a burden. I don’t like it. I never felt like such a failure before he did what he did.

Let me make this very, very clear to you all. I do not like identifying as a rape victim. On good days I have sass and tell everyone that I identify as a survivor rather than a victim and do my default thing of laughing everything off and pretending that I am a ok. However, my good days are few and far between at the moment. The majority of the time I cry, a lot. I think awful things about myself and repeat them religiously until I believe every single one. I doubt things that I know I am capable of. I have next to no self worth or esteem, when a year and a half ago I was brimming with the stuff. 

Today I have had 1/2 one cereal bar, one light packet of crisps and one Caesar salad when I got home from work… I also had a teriyaki salmon salad, although purged twenty minutes later, so, does that even count?! 

I have worked thirteen hours today. Its not enough, is it. I wish I could bring myself to eat properly. I wish I didn’t hate every single thing about myself. I wish to God that I could go back in time and never, never, put him first. I wish he had not stolen my self esteem and worth. 

In a sick and weird way, I like taking photos now. I like seeing less and less of myself, it’s noticeable to me. 

Tonight, 22:00hours:

Rank.

Quickly blogging before I leave for my 13 hour shift. Only 80kcal for breakfast and a cup of black tea, hopefully that will keep me ticking over until I get my lunch break, a late one most likely..! 

I’m feeling really down today but will plaster a smile on my face for the benefit of everyone else, as I do most days. I’ve been avoiding calls from my PTSD therapist and I’m spiralling back down to the point I was at before. Difference being this time I have resigned myself to it, how can I fight it anymore? I have no energy to, anymore. 

I feel weak and disgusting, both inside and out. Everything feels rotten. I snapped a quick photo again before I had to head off to work. It’s not as clear as the other one, but I’ve lost even more weight. It’s melting off of me, like even my fat can’t stand to be associated with such a pathetic, weak victim, haha. 

Can hardly blame it.

But still, wasting away slowly is still better than staying put as the ‘rape victim’ for life, isn’t it?

Black coffee and adrenaline. 

I feel sick every time I look at that picture of my ribs protruding out that I posted last night. I’m ashamed. I’m ashamed of what the rape has turned me into. Sometimes I sit and wonder if it is down to the rape. Am I just a pathetic person? Was I always a victim? 

I don’t think those things for long though.

I wasn’t. 

I was strong, you know? I mean, how can you be weak while raising a child single handed, smashing one of the hardest degrees all while keeping on top of a chronic illness amongst a few there as well. I wasn’t weak, I just made the mistake of falling in love with a well disgusted monster.

I do feel bad for calling him that. But, how can I not? I hope people realise that it hurts me very much to even call him that, but, yeah, how can I not? This man raped me. He claimed it was a mistake, he claimed he was confused. I believed him for a very long time, but then I questioned how could he possibly have been confused..? I remember the panic in my voice when I said no. I remember how scared I felt when I was telling him to stop it. I remember the hundreds of nights since where I have woken up screaming and crying.

I don’t think these things are very easily confused somehow.

You know, I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping quiet. By that, I mean right by him which is what had mattered to me. Through doing that, I completely ignored that I was breaking apart. I ignored how hollow, dirty, ashamed and upset I felt. It was all cast into the shadows by the fact that I loved this guy. But now, fifteen months on I have forced myself to allow myself to feel what I should have openly felt all along, and it’s hard work.

I say fifteen months. I could tell you how many weeks, days, or even hours it has been since he did what he did, that’s the turmoil it caused me on the quiet. Him? He’s told me before that he doesn’t even remember what day he did it on. That shows a huge deal of remorse, doesn’t it, folks. The spineless coward doesn’t even remember when he did what he did, you know, rape and ruined a life? 

Hardly memorable, I’m sure.

I wish I could waste away faster. Barely eaten. I’ve had one packet of crisps and a chicken wrap today that I purged not long afterwards. Dinner was waiting for me in the oven when I got in from work this evening (long day). I wolfed it down like a pig, but I mentioned what I deserved last blog post, didn’t I – damage.

To damage myself is to be in control. Just a worthless rape victim anyways; remember that. If I was a worthwhile person then what happened to me would not have happened. 

Raped and not even worth apologising to. This, from the man who claimed to always love me. If I had the energy to laugh then I would, but that’s what 500kcals a day does to you, eh. How can you like yourself knowing that you and only you are responsible for ripping someone’s entire world apart? I couldn’t do that, I just couldn’t. But then again, I have morals, perhaps that is what really separates us, and the fact that I’m not a pathetic coward with a rape under their belt, right?

I’m sure that egotistical ‘man’ and to be honest, some of his friends most likely think that me reaching out, being suicidal, being depressed, disordered eating etc is to do with him walking away.

Let me stop you there with that hysterical train of thought.

Nah, seriously. Nah.

The situation I find myself in currently has to do with two things and two things only:

  1. That coward raping me.
  2. How badly I was treating after saying goodbye to Baby.

Do I love him? No. Do I care about his life? No. Do I miss him? No. 

Am I angry about what he did? Yes, very. Am I gunning for justice? Yes, very much so.

And to think, readers, this could have been nipped in the bud if he wasn’t so pathetic and actually just apologised for what he did to me. For what he has done to me, because th damage is very much ongoing. I am ill. Very ill, and why should I be the only one living with the turmoil that his heinous actions have caused? Why. Not. Him? 

I’m going to go and purge until that euphoric feeling of slowly wasting away hits me once more.