Who Am I?
I don't recognise myself at the moment. That's not a bad thing, in fact, it's an amazing thing. I finally got into the police station and had my interview. It took me more than a decade to find the strength. To say it was hard, would be an understatement. Walking to the station seemed to take a lifetime. My insides were churning. I could feel myself going numb and dissociating from everything. I didn't want to do that, not this time. I knew that I had to let myself feel everything if I wanted to be free. I was nervous, which was obvious to the officer doing the interview. However, she, along with the rape counsellor, put me at ease. Every time I've thought about and shared my story, I've expected judgement. Mainly because I have judged and found myself guilty since the day it happened. Neither of these women was there to judge. They made it very clear that they were there for me. Re-living that evening, that moment, made me feel sick. I had to keep going over it, and over it, and over it. Finally, allowing myself to feel it. Only this time, there was no shame. There was no blame, not for me. I was asleep and he made his choices. Nothing I did or didn't say or do matters. Consent was not given, end of story.
