i dont want to make another post about my rape. i hate to think that its all ive become. it makes me so angry. but here i am again thinking about it.
i was raped in fall
now its almost spring
i am wondering how long it will take to get over. if i will ever ‘get over’ it. i know it will at least take as long as the legal system takes. i havent gotten anywhere. they dont even have the texts from the night or my texts to my friends or the audio i recorded. they didnt take any of it .
he took everything from me and they couldnt care less.
the DA said they would update me. i havent heard from them in two months. i keep calling. its like im screaming into the void, except its in a polite phone voice and im begging pleasantly for any updates and please please a call back. i cant believe im kissing their feet and bowing my face in the dirt to get the opportunity to for their acknowledgement.
im tired. ive had this idea the last week to make a spreadsheet detailing how much money my rape has cost me. but money doesnt matter (i say of course with immense privilege) i am lucky that the monetary cost has not forced me to miss meals, or missed rent payments. i have a great job.
but i have missed food and i have missed rent payments. ive been in so much pain and even still feel so heavy and sad that i cant open my mouth to eat. ive forgotten how days pass and missed the first of the month despite constant reminders. for months time has moved numbly, seconds non existent and minutes unclear. im so tired.
i lost my blanket. it was taken for evidence. it was from an ex boyfriend i had just barely let go, but it made me feel safe. what a metaphor for my safety being stolen. ironic. im so sad i dont have that piece of me, it breaks my heart. i keep saying im tired but its so heavy, its that rush down of blood and tears when you are preparing to cry, and its that gravity increasing on your limbs and mass in your stomach and salivating emptiness in your mouth where you can feel the pain under your tongue.
it annoys me that the only way i thought people could grasp the gravity of my story was if i laid it out in USDs. because of course money talks.
im tired.
i lost my favorite pair of shorts, they were red and the pockets were too small to hold my phone without it falling out. just in case you were wondering i was wearing a t shirt and shorts like a normal person, more covered up than i normally would be for bed because believe it or not i wasnt asking for it
i lost a shirt i bought at disney world. it was just plain black, no mickey, but it was mine… i dont have that many clothes, i wear the same things constantly. i guess its better that they were taken its not like i couldve worn them anymore. no matter how many quarters i bled at the laundry mat they would never be clean.
its hard not to think of my body that way.
i lost my last bit of connection with evangelical christianity. what god wants will happen. i shouldnt have gone drinking. i shouldnt have let him into my apartment. of course no one would tell me to my face, but i was born and raised with that ideology, i knew what it was. in my veins i can feel the catholic guilt, to my heart i could feel the poison way of thinking. i could feel the pain and confusion of the two women at my church who talk to me while they were praying for me. i used to think that i could use any extra help but i didnt in that prayer. i want to take a break but the god they pray to gets angry and hates those against him in anyway. see what they done to people who are queer? its painful.
but you cant sit back and defend it as not all its in our ideology, you hear it all he time. why do they put that on tv, can i help you sir, i mean maam, i dont swear i want people to see me and think wow im different, trump 2020. you cant champion a rapist and say you give a damn, you cant champion a racist and say you give a damn
just being in the south for christmas drown me in visions of my rape. seeing the signs and listening to extended family and going to conservative church reminded me of what happened, revived that night that morning that day in my mind and did it vividly. they didnt give a damn.
im happy i live in a blue state and im happy i took the morning after pill.
call me a murderer i dare you
even knowing i was fully just to go drinking with friends at 21, to let someone into my house, to take a morning after pill i feel catholic guilt and separation and shame from the community i have been raised up in.
im so scared to walk outside alone. i am scared to walk in the dark. im terrified when men yell at me on the street now instead of just annoyed. i had to fight to be able to sleep in my own bed again. im paying out of pocket for therapy that is barely helping. i continue to work at a place that proved to me that they dont give a damn if their employees really are safe.
im tired
im on more meds now
i am doing better. but thanks to me and thanks to my best friend.
i am such a resilient stubborn able girl. im dragging myself forward and now crawling forward.
i can feel the ghosts of his hands on me, on my body, against my skin. i get shocks of reminders of how he gaslighted me that night, pretending my fighting and my voice didnt exist. reminders of how even my detective tried to gaslight me what you described to me was not rape. it shocking to get raped and its shocking how much men will go through to make you disbelieve what you lived through. according to that ‘professional’ penis penetration with very clear non consent is not rape. i must be crazy. i must be nutso. prep me for the loony bin. i mean he said it was consensual. nothing can be done, cant collect any evidence either.
im tired.
i cant even write his name cause thats defamation. of course because the rape is alleged. because they havent proven it in court. because then DA is ignoring me. because they barely collected evidence. because my rape kit is on file and not tested.
its not alleged, believe it or not i was there and it is a fact.
alaska kajah 