I think this has been brewing for a while. I’ve been having a lot of violent nightmares and I can’t place them, I’m having body memories, but cannot relate them to a particular memory. Last week I was dealing with a lot of irrational fears, I was angry at the way authorities had treated me and paranoid about the involvement of similar authorities now. Though the irrational fears are calmer and paranoia now gone, I’ve been left angry and with some trust issues. I wonder if that is behind the nightmares? Or perhaps it is due to an anniversary last week of an incident I actually reported to the Police right away.
Either way, I am feeling really angry, there’s so much injustice, my own and all around me..
I was not the first to be abused by my abuser.He was well known to the Police for various violent crimes, he was also well known to them for his unhealthy interest in young teen girls. He had even been arrested on several occasions for suspected “sexual contact” with underage girls. He was never punished and their lack of action didn’t just physically allow him to re offend, it also gave him the confidence to do so. He was as aware as I am now, that the Police would not prosecute.
The Police spoke to me on more than one occasion, they warned me to stay away from him, but mostly, they told me off for getting involved. Wasn’t he the predator, just like they said? Why was I treated like the criminal, while he walked free, yet AGAIN?
In the years I knew him, he was arrested numerous times for sexual offences against teen girls. The Police had to know he was guilty, yet with every arrest, he was at most, cautioned and then released. Even after a harrowing video interview, where I had to disclose the details of a rape I had just endured, I was patted on the shoulder, ensured he’d be warned and then I was sent on my way.
I just cannot understand it, how many times can one person be arrested for similar crimes, yet still get away with it?
And how many are there of us? How many have been his victims, before, during and after me? I have spent a lot of time agonising over those potential victims since and those that may still be in danger. I know I cannot carry that, I know I cannot change it, because nothing would be done anyway. Even if I reported now, my experience time and time again has proven that he will not be prosecuted. But right or wrong I do still carry that. I am haunted by the idea that he abused others after me. I know I cannot do anything to bring him to justice, but if there’s something I can do to raise awareness of abuse and to help other abuse survivors then I have to do it.
I know I am not the only one feeling like I got the life sentence, desperately trying to deal with the aftermath and work towards healing from the crime an abuser got away with.
I’m so angry with him and various authorities right now. I am angry that even good moments are fleeting because of the PTSD, an issue I proabably wouldn’t have had he been caught and punished right away. Instead, I was left with no defence, I had no way out, no escape from abuse that then continued for years. I had to endure rape and torture, I was physically and emotionally abused. I had to live for years with lack of choice and only drugs, alcohol and an alternative reality to keep me sane. I was utterly abandoned by the only people who could keep him away from me. He should have been in prison, not free to abuse me.
I am angry about the abuse for sure, but it is the impact on my life now that makes me sick. I want to hold on to what I felt on Monday, when I was so grounded, I was excited for Christmas and for my future. I still feel like I have so little choice, because if I could choose, I would choose to feel as I did on Monday, I would grab it with both hands and never, ever let go. Yet PTSD and memories of abuse seem to rule my life, I do not get to choose when it strikes, only how I handle it. Because of failing of others, my life is affected now, I am tormented now, I am living with it now.
They (he and them) are the reason I have nightmares and flashbacks, they are the reason I lived the horrors of abuse. I blame them for difficulty to be close to others, my fear of the dark and of being alone. It is their fault it took me years to enjoy sex, that still I cry in my husband’s arms so often after. Their fault that I feel dirty and ashamed, that I feel worthless and unlovable and their fault that I struggle to find my Faith, that I feel anything but fear and anger towards God.
I blame them for my inability to feel anything for years. I blame them for my jumpiness at my own children’s touch. I blame them for my controlling nature and my need to always blame myself.
They crushed my self esteem, I lost my self worth, I was a shell for so very long. I blame them for my inability to ask for help even now. I blame them for my shame that I feel this way. I called Samaritans tonight (a UK helpline, who are fantastic btw) because I was feeling desperate yet too ashamed to call anyone I know and right now, I blame them for that too. Because I shouldn’t be here feeling this, I shouldn’t be ashamed of what I did not do, I should not be tormented by horrific memories, nor carrying responsibility for crimes I did not and would never commit. Not only did he abuse me, but they failed me spectacularly and right or wrong, I blame them and him for all of it right now.
I hate him and I hate them. Where is my justice?