I was having a convo in the car yesterday with Sarah, talking about rape as we were talking I referenced a work conference I attended in mid-2009 and casually said “I was raped there”.
It was the first time I’ve ever told anyone about the incident, I was as stunned as she was – I’ve always been pretty open about the various sexual assaults in my past, but this was different.
This made me feel so ashamed when it happened, I should have reported it to Vegas PD, it was someone I kind of knew, who I’d planned on hooking up with. But on the night of the rape I was drunk and told him clearly No, no I don’t want to do this tonight, I don’t want to do this drunk. I kept saying no as he pushed his way into my hotel room.
I continued to say no as this 6ft tall, muscular man, forced my clothing askew to give him access to what he wanted. I said no as my jeans and blouse acted as bondage. I said no until I was crying while he penetrated me and came without a condom.
I finished the conference in shock, I think he even took me to dinner the next day. I distanced myself from the social/technical support group I’d met him through. And I didn’t tell a soul until this weekend.
If I’m going to get my creative and spiritual life back I have to excavate all of these moments and seasons of hurt and heal. There is no more pretension of moving forward in my life while this crap buries me.
Celexa helped me survive, but 70lbs of cortisol related weight gain in 4 years is telling me that I am not thriving. Something has to change, I will not let those bastards win.