02/03/16
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I’m never at a loss for words. Actually, I’m often told that I rarely stop talking. So, this is new for me. I’ve tried to start this piece four times, and I just don’t know what to say. I think part of the problem stems from the lack of truth in the sticky note itself.
I was not relieved, and nobody could have prepared me for what was to come.
On the first day of a new class, professors pass around a syllabus and spend most of the day talking about what to expect from the course. Well, if I could create a syllabus for pressing charges against your rapist, it would read as follows:
Pressing Charges Against Your Rapist 101
Welcome to the (insert city) police station! I’m so glad you’ve decided to join me this semester in Pressing Charges Against Your Rapist 101. I understand that what you have been through is awful and traumatic, but it doesn't end there. This will be just as bad, maybe even worse.
What you’ll learn in this course:
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Most of your friends will abandon you, especially if the rapist is liked by their peers.
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Have conservative parents? You’re screwed.
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Every detail of your life is now available to the public and will be scrutinized.
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Don’t drink with male friends. If you do, you are asking to be assaulted.
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Cover every inch of your body at all times. Men are incapable of keeping their dicks in their pants when they see too much of your skin.
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Law and Order is a great show, but cases actually take a minimum of 1 year to prosecute.
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Rapists have a wildly different definition of consent compared to the actual definition.
Don’t know if you can handle the rigor of this course? To toughen you up, we advise that you take “Victim Blaming 101: It Was Your Fault” before enrolling. We’re looking forward to a great semester, where the chances of passing the class are about .005%. Good luck!
I’m part of the .005% that “passed the class” and got to watch their rapist taken away in handcuffs, heading to serve his time in jail. And I’m still bitter, resentful, and fucking pissed.
I don’t think that will ever change.
But, that’s just one aspect of my life. Not everything has to stay stagnant.
As traumatic as it all was, I don’t regret it. Some of my best qualities were born out of this experience.
I am strong. I am passionate. I am determined. I am reliable. I am loyal. I am persistent. I am honest. I am empathetic. I am patient. I am sensitive. I am kind. I am respectful.
Most importantly, I know my worth.
For the longest time, I didn’t. My peers expressed that not only me, but my thoughts, ideas, and experiences were worthless. When you hear negative things about yourself for long enough, you begin to believe them. Your mind goes to a dangerous place.
To get through, I journaled, meditated, and exercised regularly. I surrounded myself with people who did believe and support me. I refused to give up.
I was convinced that one day I would be my old self again, as if that was actually a possibility. But, I began to realize that I didn’t want to be her anymore.
I might never be my old self again, but that girl isn’t completely gone. Instead, I am a hybrid creature, a mix of the old me and the new me. A combination of the best attributes from each.
And she is really awesome.