Me Too

Me too. Those are two words that I wish I didn't have to say. But they are a part of my story. Its been thirty years now since I was raped. Sometimes it seems like yesterday. I still have nightmares on occasions and they are so real and so vivid that it actually feels like I'm being raped all over again. I struggled for a long time with blaming myself for what happened. I played "if only". If only I hadn't been drunk. If only I'd left the party with my friends. If only I hadn't worn makeup and perfume. Yes, I had too much to drink that night. Yes, I stayed behind. Yes, I wore makeup and perfume. But I didn't ask to be raped. I said "No!"

No!
He's calling me a bitch.
No!
He's pulling my hair.
No!
He's sticking his dick in my mouth.
No!
He's ripping off my jeans.
No!
He's forcing his way in.
No!
He's thrusting hard.
No!
He's hurting me.
No!
Why did I wear makeup?
No!
Why did I get drunk?
No!
Why didn't I leave with my friends?
No!
Why didn't I fight back?
No!
Why didn't I scream?
No!
Why didn't I report him?
No!
Why didn't I die?
No!
I said "No!"
No!
No!
No!
No!
No!
No!
NO!

My "Nos" should have been enough. They weren't. I now know that it wasn't my fault. I did not deserve for that to happen. No one does. I wish that I hadn't been afraid to speak up at the time. I wish that I hadn't run straight for the shower and stayed in there for hours, douching and scrubbing my insides with a tile and grout brush. All I could think about was getting him off of me. Showering has never been the same since that night. I have obsessive compulsive disorder and that event triggered a bathing ritual that I still can't break today. It's as if I'm trying to wash away a sin that isn't mine. I now understand that I did the best I could at the time to survive. I pray that one day I will get past surviving and learn to thrive.