The worst of all

Three weeks after my attack, three weeks of pretending everything is fine. Then the realisation that man had gotten me pregnant. Was it not bad enough that i was feeling like shit besides having to deal with another life. I didn't know how to feel. was i angry that i was in this situation? Was i worried about the baby and it's health? Could i keep the baby without it being a constant reminder of my pain? all i knew is that I couldn't cope. I locked myself in my room when i wasn't at work. i didn't make eye contact with anyone when i was out. I thought a lot about everything. The end result was that i had to have the baby and put it up for adoption. It wasn't this little life's fault that it was conceived in an act of violence.

But someone up there had other ideas. At 7 weeks i lost it. It nearly drove me insane. I had spent so long thinking about this life inside me, coming to terms with it's existence. now it was gone and i was in bits.

What just happened?

Survival instinct. As i lay there i think i must have gone through what people trapped in a life or death situation must experience. I just knew i had to get up and survive. He had damaged me physically and emotionally. The first thing i had to deal with was the physical. Casualty doctors tests. i experienced it all as if i was out of my body looking down on a poor broken soul from somewhere else. If i had thought about what was happening, if I had lived it and wouldn't have been able to cope. The next step was the emotional. I did the wrong thing. i pretended that nothing had happened and that life was normal. It wasn't normal and still isn't. It's so strange to know that this is my life now. I wake up in the morning thinking about it. I go through the routines of work and existing really but always in the back of my mind there is a little voice constantly reminding me of what happened. I wake up every night in a cold sweat thinking about it.
I could have wet straight to the police. I could have gotten him arrested. I could have seen justice. I didn't. i rang my best friend. I say best friend now with a wee laugh. her response was that every one feels like that sometimes. I wasn't really raped i just wasn't in complete control of the situation.

What happened to me doesn't happen to everyone and it wasn't it my mind. It was real, this is real. I can't just pretend that I'm not a victim.

The beginning

My life can easily be split in two; life before and after i was raped. i have set up this blog because i need an outlet and i need others in my situation to know it's not the end of the world.

Who i am and where I'm from is not important. I could any woman you see walking down the street.

This is my story, or at least the beginning;
One year ago i was dating a man the same age as me. he was lovely so i thought. He had a good job, looked after his children, was generally a responsible man. He ticked all the boxes. Because of the jobs we worked and the distance between both of us it didn't work out. At this stage we had dated for 3 months. At the October bank holiday, two weeks after we broke up, he showed up at my door. I let him in. we watched Jerry maguire. then he kissed me. I pulled back, not wanting anything to happen. He grabbed me and dragged me to the bedroom. I was screaming but there was no one to hear me. i can't remember all the details. they have become foggy in my mind. he lay on top of me. No one needs to know all the details. His whole weight was pressing on me. He tore off my clothes. He bit me. He raped me. He was screaming at me to use the pain. Make the sex better for me. He climbed off after what felt like hours but may just have been 5 minutes. He told me to clean myself up and he left. I was left bleeding, cold, scared. That is where my life changed forever.