It's been a few days since my last entry, mostly because Dylan is keeping me constantly busy. In fact, I don't think he's left my side since he arrived here! I'm sure he'd like to get out and see some of his old friends, but for the past week I've been getting panicky whenever I even think about leaving the house, so we've stayed inside the whole time just watching movies, playing on the computer, talking and cuddling. And when I say cuddling I'm not using it as a metaphor for something more. I'm not ready for that and Dylan's not pushing me.
We had a long talk yesterday about him moving back up here to finish his last two years of school. He really wants to, and while I want him to be here I don't think it's practical. As much as I love him, I'm not ready to live with him and there's no one other than my parents who might consider taking him in. Then there's his family. He loves his family and I don't think he's quite ready to leave them yet. In the end we decided that we would get together as much as possible over the next couple of years and try to get into the same University.
He is, however, staying here for what's left of the summer and only going back the day before I go back to school (he gets another week of holiday the lucky git). It means I have him for another two weeks and I really don't have the words to express how happy that makes me. I really don't want him to go back, but given that the only other option is for him to leave his family and live here for me...as attractive as the idea might sound I think he'd be miserable without them and I don't think we're ready to live together.
My bed is definitely going to feel empty without him, though. I love waking up beside him in the morning, especially when he's still asleep. He's gorgeous when he's awake, but when he's sleeping he looks so angelic.
This morning (well, yesterday morning now) we sat down with my parents and brother and told them what really happened to me. I don't want to go into detail about the conversation right now, but let's just say there were tears and my brother decided to take his anger out on the coffee table, so Mum now needs to go buy some new furniture. We're going to the police station tomorrow to tell them the full story, though none of us have much hope that anything will really be done at this point. I might say more after we've spoken to the police, but right now I'm waiting for Dylan to come back from the shower so we can go to bed.
He's so sexy when he's wet.
Monday, 16 August 2010
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
48 Hours
A lot has changed in the past forty-eight hours. I'm not saying that I'm smiling and happy and back to my old self again, but when I woke up this morning (well, actually this evening as my sleep pattern is so screwed up I slept until 9pm this evening) I didn't immediately want to go straight back to sleep. I'm not saying I exactly wanted to get out of bed and face the world, but the desire to hide away wasn't as strong as it has been.
Before I say anymore, I want to thank J and PaulMoore12 for the comments they made on my last blog entry. You guys really helped me a lot. I still haven't told anyone what really happened, not in real life, but I posted about it on a forum I belong to - thegyc.com - and while only a handful of people have responded or even read the post I made their responses, combined with yours, have really helped.
What helped most was actually saying it, even if it was just typing the words onto a screen. I felt sick, but I didn't throw up, and when I posted the thread I felt a lot better. No one replied for several hours and I considered deleting the post a few times, but eventually someone replied. Of course, I had a panic attack the moment I saw that someone had responded, because it meant they'd read what happened and someone else knew, but once I calmed down I read what they had to say and it really helped. I haven't replied yet, but I'm going to soon.
I knew after it happened that I needed to tell someone, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. I couldn't even acknowledge that the parts I was willing to share amounted to sexual assault. Now I can at least type it on a screen.
I was raped.
I feel sick just saying it, but less sick than I did a few days when I even thought about saying it. It was disgusting and humiliating and if I could erase it from my mind I would, even if it meant those boys would get away with it, but it's always there and as much as it scares me I think it's always going to be there.
So after posting my blog entry and posting on that site and reading the comments people left me, I decided to contact Dylan. I couldn't bring myself to speak to him on the phone, so I contacted him via MSN. At first I felt sick, but after a couple of minutes of talking to him I started to feel better and I remembered just how much I loved him. He switched on his webcam and the moment I saw his face I knew how much I needed him here, so I asked him to come stay with me. He's coming on Wednesday and staying for a week, so when he gets here I'll tell him what happened. If I can't find the words I'll show him my blog or the post I made. I'd prefer to tell him, but the important thing is that he knows.
I think the problem I've been having over the past few days is that I've been thinking about when we had sex and associating it with what happened. I've been thinking about Dylan my boyfriend and not Dylan my best friend, the person who has always been there for me. I love him and I never want to lose him, but I think right now I need him to be my best friend for a while and just hold me and tell me that everything's going to be ok. Two days ago I couldn't stand the thought of seeing him. Now I can't wait for him to be here.
I've flushed the drugs. I sort of regret it right now, but I know it was the right decision. They made things easier but it was artificial. They won't change anything. All they do is numb the pain for a little while. I rationalised taking them by comparing them to taking an aspirin when you've got a headache, but as someone told me in an email yesterday this is the kind of pain that doesn't disappear if you take a pill. I know they're right, but right now I'd prefer an easier option.
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that the support I've had from strangers over the past couple of days has really helped, and if people I don't know can make if feel this much better then the support of the people who love me has to help more, right? I don't think anyone can make the pain go away, but a hug will make all the difference.
Just a final note to HG, the delightful person who left a comment in my last blog entry. I considered deleting your comment, but I've decided to leave it where it is. It's a reminder that there are always going to be hateful scumbags out there and unless I confront what happened I'll never have the strength to deal with them and run the risk of becoming one of them. It's something I'll look at whenever I'm feeling down and if I ever do think about killing myself, because knowing that it would bring some satisfaction to someone like you will be reason enough for me to find a way to keep going. If I can't find the strength to get through this for me or the people I love, I'll find the strength to get through this just to spite people like you.
Before I say anymore, I want to thank J and PaulMoore12 for the comments they made on my last blog entry. You guys really helped me a lot. I still haven't told anyone what really happened, not in real life, but I posted about it on a forum I belong to - thegyc.com - and while only a handful of people have responded or even read the post I made their responses, combined with yours, have really helped.
What helped most was actually saying it, even if it was just typing the words onto a screen. I felt sick, but I didn't throw up, and when I posted the thread I felt a lot better. No one replied for several hours and I considered deleting the post a few times, but eventually someone replied. Of course, I had a panic attack the moment I saw that someone had responded, because it meant they'd read what happened and someone else knew, but once I calmed down I read what they had to say and it really helped. I haven't replied yet, but I'm going to soon.
I knew after it happened that I needed to tell someone, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. I couldn't even acknowledge that the parts I was willing to share amounted to sexual assault. Now I can at least type it on a screen.
I was raped.
I feel sick just saying it, but less sick than I did a few days when I even thought about saying it. It was disgusting and humiliating and if I could erase it from my mind I would, even if it meant those boys would get away with it, but it's always there and as much as it scares me I think it's always going to be there.
So after posting my blog entry and posting on that site and reading the comments people left me, I decided to contact Dylan. I couldn't bring myself to speak to him on the phone, so I contacted him via MSN. At first I felt sick, but after a couple of minutes of talking to him I started to feel better and I remembered just how much I loved him. He switched on his webcam and the moment I saw his face I knew how much I needed him here, so I asked him to come stay with me. He's coming on Wednesday and staying for a week, so when he gets here I'll tell him what happened. If I can't find the words I'll show him my blog or the post I made. I'd prefer to tell him, but the important thing is that he knows.
I think the problem I've been having over the past few days is that I've been thinking about when we had sex and associating it with what happened. I've been thinking about Dylan my boyfriend and not Dylan my best friend, the person who has always been there for me. I love him and I never want to lose him, but I think right now I need him to be my best friend for a while and just hold me and tell me that everything's going to be ok. Two days ago I couldn't stand the thought of seeing him. Now I can't wait for him to be here.
I've flushed the drugs. I sort of regret it right now, but I know it was the right decision. They made things easier but it was artificial. They won't change anything. All they do is numb the pain for a little while. I rationalised taking them by comparing them to taking an aspirin when you've got a headache, but as someone told me in an email yesterday this is the kind of pain that doesn't disappear if you take a pill. I know they're right, but right now I'd prefer an easier option.
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that the support I've had from strangers over the past couple of days has really helped, and if people I don't know can make if feel this much better then the support of the people who love me has to help more, right? I don't think anyone can make the pain go away, but a hug will make all the difference.
Just a final note to HG, the delightful person who left a comment in my last blog entry. I considered deleting your comment, but I've decided to leave it where it is. It's a reminder that there are always going to be hateful scumbags out there and unless I confront what happened I'll never have the strength to deal with them and run the risk of becoming one of them. It's something I'll look at whenever I'm feeling down and if I ever do think about killing myself, because knowing that it would bring some satisfaction to someone like you will be reason enough for me to find a way to keep going. If I can't find the strength to get through this for me or the people I love, I'll find the strength to get through this just to spite people like you.
Sunday, 8 August 2010
Digging and Digging
Recently I've been thinking a lot about my life and everything that's happened over the past couple of weeks. I've tried not to, but the thoughts keep popping into my head and as soon as they do I can't seem to let them go. I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore.
There's this forum I go to. I've mentioned it before, but I won't post a link. I wouldn't want to inflict it on anyone. There are some good people there, but the majority are cruel and bitchy. So why do I go there?
I thought at first I was going there to try and distract myself. It's a busy place with lots going on, plenty to read, loads of active members, and it does provide a distraction, but there are plenty of other sites on the Net that could be just as distracting. Then I thought maybe I was posting there because the majority of the active members seem to hate, or at least dislike, me, and I figured that if I could win them over then maybe I could stop hating myself so much. And yet when I read some of the posts I've made, or even look at the signature I use there, I can see that I'm not trying to be liked.
So what the hell am I doing?
Maybe I'm just looking for confirmation in their replies that I'm right to feel this way about myself.
God! I sound like such a self-pitying idiot. Truth is, I don't feel sorry for myself. For the past week or so, I haven't felt much of anything at all. I just feel dead inside.
I've felt this way since the police told my mother that the boys who attacked me would be released with nothing more than a caution. I really thought that if I told the police what happened then something would be done, but I can't really blame them. It's not like I told them the whole story. I told them exactly what I wrote in this blog, exactly what I told my brother and my parents and my boyfriend. I've only got myself to blame, but how the fuck am I supposed to tell anyone the truth? I feel like throwing up when I even think about it. There's no way I could say it out loud.
I just want to sleep and never wake up. I don't want to kill myself or anything stupid like that. As much as it hurts every day I don't want to die. I just want to sleep until the pain goes away.
There's this forum I go to. I've mentioned it before, but I won't post a link. I wouldn't want to inflict it on anyone. There are some good people there, but the majority are cruel and bitchy. So why do I go there?
I thought at first I was going there to try and distract myself. It's a busy place with lots going on, plenty to read, loads of active members, and it does provide a distraction, but there are plenty of other sites on the Net that could be just as distracting. Then I thought maybe I was posting there because the majority of the active members seem to hate, or at least dislike, me, and I figured that if I could win them over then maybe I could stop hating myself so much. And yet when I read some of the posts I've made, or even look at the signature I use there, I can see that I'm not trying to be liked.
So what the hell am I doing?
Maybe I'm just looking for confirmation in their replies that I'm right to feel this way about myself.
God! I sound like such a self-pitying idiot. Truth is, I don't feel sorry for myself. For the past week or so, I haven't felt much of anything at all. I just feel dead inside.
I've felt this way since the police told my mother that the boys who attacked me would be released with nothing more than a caution. I really thought that if I told the police what happened then something would be done, but I can't really blame them. It's not like I told them the whole story. I told them exactly what I wrote in this blog, exactly what I told my brother and my parents and my boyfriend. I've only got myself to blame, but how the fuck am I supposed to tell anyone the truth? I feel like throwing up when I even think about it. There's no way I could say it out loud.
I just want to sleep and never wake up. I don't want to kill myself or anything stupid like that. As much as it hurts every day I don't want to die. I just want to sleep until the pain goes away.
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