bliss-sad's Diaryland Diary

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I didn't report because I was a teenager and I was drunk when it happened. I remember coming to briefly while it was happening and realizing that someone was on top of me. I was bent over, my face pushed into a hotel pillow that smelled like cigarettes. I remember vomiting in my mouth and trying to swallow it down.

A group of us had gone to a concert a few hours away. There had been 10 people, give or take. We had 3 hotel rooms that we planned on sharing, 2 of them were connected. I was in one of the attached rooms. I don't know where everyone else was or if there was even anyone in the room when it happened.

The next morning I was sore and hungover. I felt dirty, and not just from the night of partying. When I asked my friend what went on the night before she said, "You fucked [name]."

There was judgment and contempt in her voice. I don't remember what I said. I knew I didn't consent. I knew I didn't want that to happen, but I also knew that I had "asked for it".

It looks years to let go of that shame. To call it what it was, rape.

I don't know any woman who doesn't have a story like that: waking up or coming to during a sexual experience. None of them consented, but so few will call it assault.

I don't have many female friends, so my research group is small, but it's still so telling.

I have more stories just like that from my days as a raging alcoholic, but that one sticks out. I think about it a lot....its one of the intrusive memories that hasn't faded with EMDR or DBT. I can't shake it.

I still see that rapist in the grocery store or in the People You May Know feature on Facebook. I hate knowing he's out there. I hate knowing he's probably raped or assaulted other women. I hate him.

3:59 p.m. - 09.25.18

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