Rape and sexual assault seems to be running rampant. Our own president has recorded conversations that are degrading to women. Movie stars are coming forward to tell their story. The thing is, no one is doing anything about it. There is a lot of rhetoric and mass demonstrations. What good are those things? Since the beginning of humankind, women have been sexually assaulted and raped.
Every ninety-six seconds a sexual assault occurs. Over three hundred thousand people are assaulted each year. One out of six women experience sexual assault or rape. The saddest thing is that victims do not always report the rape occurred. Although they are the victims, they usually feel guilty, as if they deserved it. Society treats them like they have the plague. New relationships often fail because they are holding a secret, not wanting to be rejected. Women are the most likely victims, although there are plenty of men who experience sexual violence.
I woke up the other morning and a memory that I had pushed down deep, rose to the surface of my awareness. I never wanted to remember. It would seem that my sub conscious thinks I am ready to process and deal with it. Many women have told their story during this age of #metoo. So, that is where I will start the healing process. This is my story…
At the time I was in my early twenties. I remember trying to reach out to some friends to go to the bar with me. That did not work out for me, so I went to the bar alone. It was the bar I and all my friends went to. When I got there I got a drink. The band was about to start. In walked in this guy I know, and we hugged and chatted. I never had any reason to believe that he was such a bad person. So I left my drink on the bar and went to dance. Every once in awhile I would run up and take a sip of my drink. This went on for more than an hour. But I started feeling dizzy and disorientated. I knew I had not drank very much, so it was weird. About that time my friend asked me if I wanted to go back to his place and hang out. Sure, why wouldn’t I? I do not remember the ride. He and his friend put a ruffie in my drink. The next memory I have is being upstairs in a bedroom. The room had a single mattress without a frame. I could not speak. I could not move. I had to lay there while they took turns raping me. The next thing I remember was being led downstairs and someone called a cab. While we were waiting a third guy raped me on the couch. They walked me to the car. I could not ambulate on my own. I assume they paid for the cab, because next thing I remember, the cab pulled up in front of a friends house. I could barely open the door. I fell out of the cab and crawled to the door. The next day, I remembered what happened. I was so embarrassed, I told no one. How could I have been so stupid as to leave my drink on the bar. I felt guilty. I felt like I deserved what I got. A few days later I ran into one of the guys that had raped me. He acted as if nothing had happened and actually walked up to me and hugged me. I was frozen and terrified. In hindsight, I realize he was only making sure I didn’t remember. He walked away with a grin on his face. So I buried the incident deep down and have not thought about it until recently.
So that is my #metoo story. I know many people out there has had a similar experience. Please be strong. Maybe it would be helpful to write it down and read it. Do not feel guilty. Guilt can kill.
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