The ID parade

Was thinking about when I had to go through the ID parade and identify him. Wanted to write down my experience.
I remember being told by my SOIT officer that I would probably have to do an ID parade, but she didn't know when it would be, or indeed if. So I waited, and waited and waited, and dreaded. I dreaded seeing his face again, and I dreaded the thought that maybe I wouldn't recognise him. What would happen if I didn't. But at the same time I couldn't imagine not recognising him, after him lying on the bed staring at me whilst I was getting dressed. I dreaded how it would make me feel, at the same time I was looking forward to it in a bizarre way, maybe I was hoping it would make it feel more real, like I could maybe associate with everything more if I saw him again, because I was feeling like his face was getting more and more blurry and distant in my memory.

The day came when I got the call from her, telling me that they booked the date for the ID parade, on the 11th of April, almost 2 months after it happened. I was lucky that my family came to visit London a few days before the date, so I had something else to focus my energy on and trying not to think about it. But then, when they flew back home again, I fell into a coma of sleeping pills and weed for 2 days straight, I did not leave my bed.
It's impossible to describe the feelings I had then, it was almost as if I didn't have any feelings. I just felt very numb. My body couldn't handle all the fear and anxiety I think so it's easier to just switch off and stay numb, be protected.

On the day I made my way to Belgravia police station, where the ID parade was to take place. Going there on public transport was absolutely horrific, I remember shaking the whole way there, not looking at a single person. When I arrived I have to wait for another SOIT officer to take me in to the room. I remember sitting in the lobby and seeing some guys coming in to sign in for bail conditions. I was just thinking all the time, "have you done to someone what was done to me, is that why you are here?".
Then she came and we made our way up to the ID suite, the man working there explained to me what would happen, and what I would need to do. I was led into a small room with a computer screen. They had a video of 9 different guys, who would all look into the camera and then turn to the right, and then to the left, and then into the camera again. I would need to look at the 9 guys 2 times, and then I could look at any individual again if I wanted. He told me just to go with my gut feeling. The whole proceedure was being filmed also.
The video started and a guy's image came on. He didn't look anything like G at all, I wondered how many of these I would see before G came on, which number would he be.

The video continued and more guys who looked nothing like him passed before my eyes. Then I saw an image that maybe resembled him a bit, and my heart skipped a beat, but I still didn't think it was him. Then came number 7. And my heart stopped, my breathing stopped. He was number 7. Without a doubt. He looked straight into the camera with those same eyes, it was like he was looking straight into my soul with those same eyes.
He looked like he grew his hair and beard a little, maybe to try and look less like he did. And he had a tiny smile on his lips, like he wanted to mock me, because he knew that I would watch.

I didn't even see the remaining 2 guys, I was just shaking uncontrollably and was not able to breathe properly. I knew I had to watch the whole thing again before I could say anything, so I just stared at the screen again without seeing number 1-6, just counting down until number 7, when I would see the same face again.
He looked at me with the same eyes again. Of course, this was a recording. After the video the man running it asked me if I wanted to see any of them again, and I just said no, I am sure which one it is.
I told him it was number 7, and he asked me to sign a paper stating that, and I did, though I am sure that my signature was just a shaky line as I could barely hold the pen. Then I just broke down and started crying. The SOIT officer came in to get me, and we sat outside for a while until I calmed down a bit.

After that all was finished I went back on the tube to go and meet my friend in Hammersmith, and I have never felt so empty in my entire life as I did after that morning. It was like I couldnt feel anything, I couldn't think, I couldn't smile, I couldn't talk, I couldn't see anything except his face constantly in my vision, in front of everything else. I could move only in a robotic way.

It was like I was dead inside. More dead than I had already been since the incident. This was like a new kind of dead, that I had never felt, and hope I will never feel again.

My Wall

I find that ignoring this seems to work the best. I think that is what I have been trying to mostly do this year. Ignore and keep control over myself.
Yesterday I was on the bus going to work, and realised that I only had 3 days left, and I got a worse pain in my chest than I have had in a long time, properly panicked. It took all my willpower to control myself not to have a panick attack right there on the bus. I was just sitting shaking, and as soon as I got into the office I stumbled into the bathroom getting sick.

I just couldn't keep the thoughts and images out anymore. Usually I can keep them at bay, but something triggered me I guess, and there they were. All the thoughts about him. I felt him touching me, grabbing me.
But nothing feels worse than seeing him again lying relaxed on the bed in his striped t-thirt and boxers, watching me with his arms up and behind his head, just watching me as if wondering what's wrong.
Those eyes just looking at me all over, as if he didn't understand he had done something wrong. Didn't understand why I was upset, and would want to leave.

I know that ignoring this and not dealing with the pain might not be the best long term solution. But I just can't stand the pain trying to deal with it brings. Every time I try to think about it, my brain just closes up and it feels like there is this invisible wall between me and the memory. And I can't break it, not yet. Maybe some day in the future, but not yet. It is painful enough being close to the wall, that I can't imagine breaking it. If I do, I can't imagine what might happen. So for now, I am happier living in oblivion outside the wall.

Some state of ignorance is definitely bliss.

Things he took and wounds that open and heal

I just went back to work today again from my holiday, for the first time since I found out my contract was not getting renewed, and all day long I just couldn't stop thinking about the fact that I only have a few more days left there, and all that he has taken from me. Or that I let him take from me.

I was a disgustingly positive person. I am no more, though I try to continue pretending to be, so that people will not notice the difference, cause how could anyone like me if I am not the same?

I had a best friend who said she loved me like a sister. I have no more, she abandoned me at the first sight of hard times.

My mum was very helpful at first. She is no more, she hasn't even spoken to me in months since we had an argument about alcohol, not even to ask how I am, after I lost my job and everything.

I had a job that I truly loved. I will have no more from next week.

I could have sex and enjoy it, I could be near a man and enjoy it. I can't really anymore, without the influence of too much alcohol.

On a positive note I'm starting to feel a bit better again now. I see a small sliver of hope again after the losing of job debacle. I have a couple of interviews lined up for good jobs for next week, so that is something positive to focus on.

And also, if I think back at how bad I was in the first few months, and how many crazy and dangerous situations I got into then because of alcohol and drugs, or anything to relieve the pain temporarily, I have actually come a long way. I might have lost some things, but I am nowhere near as bad as I was a few months ago. I guess wounds do slowly heal. Even the infected ones. Mine was opened a bit again, but I am sure it will start healing again.

Hate

I have so many things to write, I don't even know really how to organise my thoughts, so I will try to take things in order, but I will probably all of a sudden write things I'm feeling now.

Like how much I have started to hate him lately. It took me a while. I used to feel such guilt, and still do, but lately I have felt more anger. When I realised he actually ruined my life, that I haven't even been able to go to work for so long, that's when I started hating him for doing this to me.
And the hopelessness I have felt, the powerlessness. The pain which is actually pshysical.
It's like there is a monster living in my chest, trying to claw it's way out. It's ripping my insides to shreds.
I'm sure any rape victim will know exactly what pain I am talking about.

When I think of that, then I hate him.

I used to feel guilty for going to the police, thinking that maybe I was overreacting (and I still think that sometimes), like maybe it wasn't such a big deal. But my body is reacting this way, so surely that means that it WAS a big deal.
I used to be like the most positive person. I no longer see anything positive.

The only thing that helps me get through the day, and all the waiting all the time, is knowing that he is waiting also. Every day, waiting for the result of the investigation. He was arrested for rape, and he has conditions for bail that are not easy on him.
So I'm suffering, but at least for now he is also probably suffering. And he deserves it, every bit of it.

I hate him.