**WARNING: I realize this may not be for everyone. This entire chapter deals with sexual assault/rape and the group support meeting. I don't get into detail at all, but focus more the feelings that went along with their assaults. If you need to skip this chapter it's alright, she'll talk more about her revelations later. I don't want to upset anyone by this, so please do what feels right to you.
And thank you so much for reading along and letting me know you're still hanging in there. Hopefully things will start to improve soon for my characters, they're beating me down a little. **
September 27… 930 pm
So I want to start by saying, the support group yesterday was nothing like I thought it would be. First of all, no one stared at me or really paid any extra attention to me at all. Second, we didn't go around and say anything like, "Hi, I'm Stephanie and I was raped." Third, it was really diverse. I guess I'd been thinking it'd all be young college age girls or something. Fourth, I was surprised when I found out I wasn't the only person in that circle that didn't remember her assault. And fifth, I think it actually helped me process my feelings a little better.
We sat down, the therapist introduced herself since there were three of us who were new to the group. Her name is Dr. Joan Jensen, and as soon as she said it, I mentally sang it to the Jetsons theme song, "Meet Joan Jensen…" I even giggled out loud making everyone look at me, but Dr. Jensen just smiled and nodded to me. She told us that she specialized in counseling for women's sexual trauma.
She said the purpose of the group was to share our feelings with one another. We were in a safe environment. We could support each other and say the things were afraid to say to our loved ones. That immediately surprised me. I thought for sure she was going to tell me that I should tell my family and Ranger everything so they could help me.
Then she said she'd just let us share. A woman about my mother's age went first. She introduced herself as Susan and said that she had been abused as a child, then married an abusive man that raped her the night their divorce had been finalized. It had been eleven years. She didn't get help at the time, but she recently met a nice man she is interested in and she knew that she needed help before she could have a healthy relationship with him.
I sat there, listening to her story, her feelings, her progress, and was stunned. I couldn't believe the strength she spoke with or her determination. She had chosen to fight and I could feel that she was. I wanted that for myself. It made me realize that I could get passed my childhood abuse and my time with Scrog. I just needed to fight like her.
Lula surprised me by going next. She talked about her brutal rape and how she felt like everyone believed she deserved it or that it didn't matter that she was raped because she was working as a hooker at the time. She said people believed that her body meant nothing to her if she was whoring herself and shrugged her rape off, from the hospital workers to the police. She said no one seemed to understand that choosing to sell sex had been her decision, but Ramirez had taken her choice away.
He used her body to hurt her. He wanted everyone to know what he did to her. He was proud of it. She said that made her so angry that she didn't know what to do with her hatred. She said she couldn't go back to her former life. She couldn't let anyone touch her that way, she certainly couldn't trust a stranger to do so. She said she had a friend that supported her and helped her find a legitimate job. They shared a bond from the moment she found her beaten that day and got her to the hospital. She said they became best friends and nothing would break that bond.
She actually made me cry. She was talking about me. I reached over and took her hand in mine. She squeezed mine in return and continued her tale. She said eventually she was able to let go of the anger as she rebuilt her life. The fear went away when the man who raped her was killed. And her trust of men was restored when she met a gentle, honorable man who treated her respect and tenderness. She said she thought he was too good to be true. When things got too heavy, she pushed him away with a dumb excuse. She tried to have superficial relationships with other men, but she never let another in. It's only now, years later, that she has a second chance with him. She doesn't want to push him away for fear she isn't good enough again. She wants help to finally deal with the pain the rape caused her so she can love him like he deserves.
I didn't know she had any of that going through her head. Especially not about Tank. I wondered if I was on the same path with Ranger. I did feel he was too good to be true. He was a better person than me. I did push him away, kept him at arm's length for years. I kept up my relationship with Joe so I had something to protect me from feeling anything toward Ranger. Was I to the point where I was thinking about sabotaging what we had because of this? I wasn't sure, maybe.
One of the other women finally asked if Lula and I were friends. Lula told them that I was her BFF and the person that rescued her when she was left for dead. This woman, Tina, assumed I was only there for Lula's support and grumbled about it to the doctor. Which had me finally speaking.
Yes, I finally spoke about it. But it was like someone else telling the story. I felt so detached, like I was reciting something I'd seen on the news or read in the newspaper, not something that happened to me. I told them that I had been kidnapped a few years ago by a man that was stalking my boyfriend. He wanted to steal my boyfriend's life so badly that he took me and my boyfriend's ten year old daughter, in hopes of making us a family.
No one asked anymore questions, they just all watched me. Lula squeezed my hand again, encouraging me to keep going. I nodded to her and closed my eyes. I told them that I remembered him using a stun gun on me, but at some point I came to and think I remember his hands on me. I remember him telling me that we were going to have another baby together, we were going to be a real family. I remember his hands feeling cold and wet, touching skin that should have been covered. I remembered his mouth on me. His breath was a mixture of cool ranch Doritos and Mountain Dew. Even the thought of smelling those things made me sick. The only other thing I remember was the feeling I was locked inside the trunk of a car, but I was bound and couldn't get out.
It was all like a hazy dream, one I wasn't sure was real. I don't remember where the touching happened. I don't know if it was in the building where he stun-gunned me or if it was later before we got to the camper he kept me in. I don't remember anything else until I woke up and he took me from the trunk. I never asked him. I was too afraid to admit that he could have had sex with me when I was unconscious. All I know is that I had bruises on my thighs and I felt dirty down there, like he didn't use a condom.
Plus, I had to focus on the other things, put aside my personal feelings and focus on my goal. I couldn't afford to be emotional. I had to get Julie back to her dad and then I could worry about myself. At least that was the original plan, it didn't go that way. I never really had time to worry about myself. My boyfriend and the crazy had both been shot in my apartment, both lived. Julie was safe and went back home with her mother. And I was just there, in shock, trying to go about my life like I was still the same woman that I was before.
I didn't want anyone to think I was weak. I thought if I told my friends or my family they would tell me that I had no business putting myself in danger to save Julie and it was my fault it happened to me. And I thought they would be right. I did walk in there knowing I was risking my life to get her back. I knew I'd have to deal with whatever happened to me. And if him touching me kept him away from her, then so be it. I could deal with that. The thing I couldn't deal with was letting my boyfriend know anything happened to me. I knew he'd blame himself and I didn't want him to do that. So I just kept going about my life, ignoring the shame and helplessness, not thinking about the weird dreams or memories that would pop out at random, and denying the depression that was slowing creeping into my life until it just took over.
Everything seemed to be going wrong, my job, my love life, my family life. There was just so much going wrong that I was overwhelmed. I didn't attribute the depression to my time with Scrog until my breakdown a few days ago.
How could something I didn't even remember take over my life like that? I couldn't even say for certain that he had sex with me. It was just more a feeling than anything. It was driving me crazy, trying to remember, then being scared that I would remember. I didn't know which was worse. I didn't even know if I belonged there, with women like Lula and Susan who had been beaten and injured. Was what even happened to me rape? Even if he did have sex with me, he didn't beat me or hurt me?
I felt like I should apologize for intruding on their group time. I didn't belong there. But a younger woman named Molly said that she didn't remember either. I stared at her and she shook her head yes. She said she was at a party, at her friend's house and was slipped a drug. She said she didn't remember leaving the party with some guy, she didn't remember where he took her or how they got there. She just remembered feeling like her body was being jostled and moved around.
She said she could remember his scent, it was on her body the next day, but aside from that she couldn't recall the assault, but she too felt like she had sex. She felt dirty and her panties were torn. I nodded to her and told her that he had stripped me naked and changed all my clothing while I was unconscious. She wondered if I had been drugged too. It was possible. He had kept Julie drugged, he would have had the drugs to give me.
Dr. Jensen nodded to me and told me that drug facilitated sexual assault was a major sexual trauma. I certainly belonged in the group and I should never apologize for speaking about my feelings. All assaults were different, some were stranger rape, some were acquaintance rape, some were incest, some were marital rape, and like Molly and me, some were drug facilitated. So we were all different, but we were all violated in the worst possible way.
I listened to the other women's stories and thought about my own life. Tina spoke about not wanting to tell her husband that a coworker raped her. She went on ignoring her rape for months. She figured if she could still have sex with her husband she was fine. She said he knew something was wrong with her and accused her of cheating since she was overcompensating with sex. It made me think of Joe and our crazy relationship. I know, I've moved on, but part of me still wondered if I kept going round and round with him because I was trying to prove to myself that I was okay.
That weighed on my mind all evening. Ranger came up for dinner and we cuddled on the couch and watched TV. I don't even know what it was. I was out of it, my mind replaying the other women's words. As much as I had in common with them, there were so many things that were different too. One of the main things that bothered me was that I wanted to have sex with Ranger. I didn't think I should want it, the way they all spoke about not wanting to be touched differed so much from what I felt. I wanted him to touch me. I needed it. I craved it. I longed for it. I wondered if there was something wrong with me.
When I went in for my one on one session today I asked. Dr. Westin was sitting in with Dr. Jensen, per my request. I trusted him, not so much her. She was too new yet. He told me that there was nothing wrong with me. The fact that Ranger and I worked so hard to trust one another over the last month made it perfect natural to want his touch. A lot of women in healthy relationships needed that comfort from their partner. It helped them hold onto some normalcy.
So I asked if it was wrong of me to have been able to have sex with Joe a short time after my time with Scrog. Dr. Jensen told me that was perfectly normal too, especially for a couple that had been in a long-term sexual relationship. There was no right or wrong on how long it will take you to be able to have enjoyable sex again. There is no right or wrong on how long you should wait either. As long as you're healing and not using it to mask your feelings. I was sure about being with Ranger. This had nothing to do with masking my feelings. This was about loving him.
We talked through my memories of that day again and my feelings about it, which hadn't really changed much in the last twenty-four hours. When Dr. Westin asked what I had been focusing on about that night, I told him that not knowing what happened really bothered me. There was no memory of the sex, it was just a void I couldn't bring back. I kept thinking maybe he didn't do it. Maybe he just put his fingers inside me? Wouldn't I remember if he used his penis on me? Was what I felt between my legs really his semen? Did he do anything else to me? Did he touch me anywhere else? Did anyone see? It was all I could think about now that I opened myself up to it. I felt obsessed and kind of crazy for thinking about it so much, but I guess that's normal too.
Dr. Jensen asked if I'd had medical tests, to check for injuries or disease. I hadn't, not intentionally, not right away, I didn't want to think about that. But after one of my accidents my chart showed I was due for a pap, the doctor asked me if I'd been sexually active and practiced safe sex. I could only say that I wasn't sure I had been safe. I had been safe with Joe and Ranger, but there was that nagging in the back of my mind that there may have been someone else. So I had him run all the STD work ups. Luckily I didn't have anything. I figured that was all I needed. I pushed it out of my mind after that.
We spoke some more about my nightmares. I hadn't had any the last few nights, but I didn't know if they were gone for good. I agreed to wake Ranger, write down my dream, and call Dr. Westin if I need him. He thought the dreams could be suppressed memories trying to surface and if that was true I'd need to deal with them properly, especially if they became more vivid or revealing. God, how I hoped none of that was true.
As upsetting as the not knowing is, I really don't want to dream anymore of it. I hate the dreams.