I've only got one up here now, more coming.
The Story of My Attack
I think it�s better not to know your attacker; for it to be some strange man you�ve never seen, and you�ll never see again. For over a year after my attack I was terrified of men. All men. I couldn�t bring myself to trust some man I didn�t know, and I lost trust in those I did know. My reasoning seemed simple to me: if a man I previously trusted was capable of attacking me, of course that made it very obvious to me that all men were capable of it.
My attacker was a �best friend� of mine. I�d known him for years; he went to my high school. We ran with the same crowds, went to the same parties. His friends dated my friends. We weren't that close, he would have been one of those people that within two years of graduation I never would have thought of until I was looking through my old yearbooks. If by chance someone else had brought him up, I would have remembered his name, but had a hard time recalling his face or anything in particular about him. You know the type. Now, I remember more about him than I ever cared to.
The things I�d like most of all to forget I recall plainly, like it happened an hour ago. I can still see his cold blue eyes staring down at me. How his hair fell over his forehead. The way his hands crushed my wrists, his heavy breath pungent with beer and pot. The way he felt inside me. I remember everything. Sometimes I wish I could have blocked out the entire memory like some people do after a trauma. Perhaps then I�d be more capable of moving on with my life and wouldn�t break into a cold sweat and be essentially paralyzed by seeing a car that looks similar to the one he had. He haunts me now in my dreams.
I suffer from a mental disorder called PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). Most people would recognize it from the Vietnam Veterans and those that suffered from it after the terrorist attacks on 9/11. Victims of rape are also very susceptible to this disorder, which manifests itself in various different forms. I experience flashbacks more than any other aspect. My flashbacks normally run in 2-3 second �clips� and are not in chronological order. Sometimes I can feel him, too. Feel his hands and his body on mine, feel the penetration. Most of the time the episodes last for just a few minutes, but I�ve had them last sporadically for hours. Even so, a few minutes of reliving a horrible event can seem like an eternity. It�s a horrible, horrible feeling.
My trust issues with men have slowly dissipated. At first I couldn�t even let my male friends hug me or touch me in any fashion. I couldn�t be in a relationship with a man for over a year. I slowly realized that I couldn�t continue doing that and keep what little sanity I had left. I needed my friends then more than ever. I lost so many friends after I was raped. He was a jock, a football star, and I was just an arts kid, drama and choir. Our high school, like most, was very athletic and almost everyone sided with him. Those that believed me were few and far between. That was the point in my life when I understood what true friends really are. A true friend wouldn�t ditch you because their current boyfriend was the rapist�s best friend. A true friend wouldn�t walk in and see what was happening, hear you say their name with a cry for help and turn around and shut the door. A true friend wouldn�t rape you. I had to come to terms with all of that and push those 3 people and the others that wouldn�t believe me out of my mind so I could stop stereotyping.
It was hard for me to actually believe in someone, to actually trust a man enough to go out on a date. It was also hard to trust a female as a close friend since my previous one had picked her new boyfriend over me, her best friend for two years. My hopes and dreams were dim. I was living day to day, praying that I wouldn�t kill myself or have a nervous breakdown. I couldn�t look or plan ahead. I was living in depression. I hated myself and felt that I it was my fault for some reason. I had nightmares. Hell, I had daymares. Every night when I went to sleep I would relive my horror. We all have our own personal terrors we have to live with. I quickly developed insomnia.
Currently, my terrors are subsiding. I can sleep most of the time. I have learned to trust again. I know the significance of friendship and it�s worth and cost. But it still haunts me, normally late at night. I still recoil when I hear his name. Even now, I cringe when I see a car like he owned. I can still feel him. In spite of this I am getting better, or recovering anyway.
7/12/02