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Today I had the first counselling session. Over Zoom. Which I thought would be horrendous but I actually found it to be much better. I was able to stay at home with the dogs (they are my emotional back up duo) and it was nice to see the counsellor in her own home... I couldn’t see much of her home at all, just a chair with a jacket over the arm and a bit of her garden.. but it made her feel more human. It was a more personable experience. 

I cried. a few times. I feel so guilty that I didn’t say anything because it might have happened to someone else because of my silence. He is engaged now, and she looks YOUNG. I worry about her. But a small and twisted part of me thinks if he showed her who he really is and she was stupid enough to agree to marry him... that’s her fault. But of course, it’s not. That ‘s the 16 year old in my brain lurking in a corner being hurt and angry. 

about 4 weeks ago I finally called a helpline number and talked about what had happened to me. It seemed to surreal at first, it wasn’t until the crisis worker said to me ‘you were the child in that situation, he was the adult and should have known better; this happened to you’ that I had even fully accepted it. I didn’t ever want to be a statistic, but given that it is 1 in 3 women worldwide, its not like it would be unlikely. 

I’ve been waiting for counselling from a specialist centre and my first appointment is next week. I’m not sure how I feel about it to be honest.. I wonder if I’m taking up a valuable slot over something that happened to me a long time ago when it should go to someone who has been through something more recently. Does that make me a bad person, considering sometimes I wonder if I dreamt it?

I had typed out a whole profound thing then my husband noticed, scared the shit out of me so I closed the damn window. Technical expertise is not something in my repertoire apparently. 

I feel sick. and fine at the same time. and exhausted but unable to sleep. and angry. Sarah Everard’s story has had a profound effect on me this week and has made me remember and question a lot of incidences of potential harm, violence and intimidation. and as always, flashbacks and nightmares hang over my head like the proverbial dark cloud that I can’t seem to shake. 

I have no idea if it’s normal or not to feel traumatised by something a decade later. Or why all these flashbacks are occurring now. Or if I will ever return to normal again or feel normal again. 

I don’t really know why I’m writing this, other than I needed to get all the chaotic thoughts out of my head for fear I might just start blabbing about it to people I know. That would be a traumatic ordeal.

I don’t even think I know what fully happened. Or when it happened or why. For years I thought my mind was just broken and I was imagining it. I had moved on, married a wonderful, beautiful man and had taken big strides in being a good person, a fun person, a self-sufficient person. Aiming for big things. And then seemingly out of nowhere... hit by the memory truck full of utter crap. 

Mostly I just feel confused, and uncomfortable in my own skin. I can’t decide what I want to do during the day or can’t seem to be motivated or focus on anything. I decide I want to eat healthy and then eat a family size bag of crisps. I thought ‘I need to drink more water’ and proceeded to drink half a bottle of gin. I need an early night but refuse to go to bed. When I do eventually collapse in bed, I’m too tired to sleep. It’s exhausting.