Huge TW for this one. Both about sex and anger and swearing.
I was sitting in the hairdressers today waiting for my colour to take and I was going over the things I wrote about yesterday afternoon, about the sex stuff in my head. I was thinking about Steve and about Glen.
I thought to myself that in a way I was glad I had made some sense of these memories and that I could now understand how they happened in the first place and how they have affected me. I thought that it is sad and I realised that the shame I used to feel has gone and now I just felt sad.
And then, seemingly out of nowhere, I remembered “the other Steve”. The Steve I had forgotten again. The Steve I wrote about last year in the blog Protected: Date Rape Drug / Memory Loss.
I replayed the memory and the feelings which go with that memory and it is hard to say what body reactions I have other than it makes me want to cry and it makes my heart beat funny and my stomach flip.
I don’t know if now, a year since writing that blog, I believe I was date raped. I don’t know what I believe. Perhaps I really did just get too drunk – perhaps I did. What I don’t like, what makes me upset and scared and sick is the way I feel and the way my body feels when I think back to that following morning and the fact that my memory NEVER did come back. I have never remembered what happened after going into his house.
Part of me thinks that it is okay because I am safe now and even if something did happen, I am okay now and that I shouldn’t be freaking out so much and part of me wonders why it is that even now as I am typing this, I am crying. A lot.
Part of me wishes I knew. Part of me is glad I don’t.
And most of me just feels incredibly sad for the me back then that got herself into these situations. Losing my virginity to Reece. The scary experience with Glen. Nearly sleeping with the other Steve who I didn’t even fancy. This one… and then the sexual abuse from my mother’s boyfriend.
None of these things should have happened.
Excuse my anger and my language but WHAT THE FUCK???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! These things shouldn’t have happened. Why wasn’t someone looking out for me?? Why wasn’t someone checking I was okay? WHY didn’t someone love me enough in the fucking first place so I didn’t turn to these men and let myself be touched or shagged or used in the first place?
God I am so angry. I am so fucking angry. Is that a normal reaction?
It is no wonder I had that dream last weekend about feeling like I had been sexually abused and having no memory of it. I have memories, to an extent, mostly, but I had never written it out like this. I had never pieced together these different situations to make sense of why they happened and how I felt about them both then and now.
Therapy Diaries 