OddSocks

What's up Tumblr?! It's time to reactivate this account!

The last time I was properly active here was in 2018! Oh boy, so much has changed since then! I'm probably going to archive a lot of my old stuff but I'm back and I'm going to try and keep this thing up to date as much as possible. More for my own self than anything. I'll dive into what's new as I go through some old stuff I'm sure.

I don't think I actually know any of my followers IRL but correct me if I'm wrong.

That's all for now.

Peace ✌️

Remember Herbie the Love Bug? This is him now.

I see you talking about Ant McPartlin and his “fall from grace”. I see all of the nasty words being written about him. Every bad word being written about him could also be written about me. He was funny, always smiling, seemed to have the world at his feet but then he stumbled, made a bad decision, caught the attention of the media and now you want his head on a spike.

Do you know what it is like to live with mental health issues? To have addictions that you cannot control? To be under the watchful eyes of people you have never even met? I’m sure he knows that he ought to have not been behind the wheel but did anyone stop to think why? To consider what pushed someone to that point? To make a reckless decision that could have resulted in a huge tragedy? No. Of course you didn’t. All you see is a drunken guy behind the wheel. You don’t see his pain and suffering. You don’t see a broken man. You don’t see what I see.

Living with chronic pain is hell. Living with mental health issues is hell. Living with addiction is hell. Living with the judgement of complete strangers is hell. I know because I am in hell too.

So before you pass judgement on people like Ant McPartlin, stop and think about what drove a person to behave in such a way. Think about the kind of support that it missing from his life. Think about what YOU can do to help him, to help me and to help millions of others just like us.

TW: Rape, Sexual assault, victim blaming, mental health, self harm, alcoholism

I need to talk about rape and sexual assault. There never seems a “right moment” to post this but what with everything in the media right now, I figured now is the time.

For three years this has been eating me up inside. It has impacted my mental health and my physical health. I have developed a drinking problem since this happened and frankly, either I do this now or I’m going to be found dead in a gutter somewhere.

It is important to me to share my story. Women all over the world suffer in silence because the are too afraid that their perpetrators will retaliate. In some countries, some rape survivors are punished for having been subjected to such a horrific ordeal and let me tell you, surviving rape is horrific!

The last time I was raped was in 2014. The perpetrator wasn’t a stranger in some dark alley. He didn't force me. He didn’t attack me. Quite the opposite in fact. He was a trusted friend of many years who took advantage of me when I was at my most vulnerable.

Before the incident, I had had a particularly rough year. I had to move house, I had split with my partner, I lost my job and I had to leave uni. My mental health was not good. I had been rather looking forward to my 30th birthday. It was supposed to be one of those milestones you know? I had been planning my party for a long time. It was going to be a stupidly over the top ridiculous princess party. I had never been a princess, the idea of it repulsed me. However, I wanted to try it. Just once. I had invited more than 45 people to my party and was receiving plenty of “yes” responses. I was excited! I’ve never been particularly keen on birthdays and I thought this could change how I felt about them. It did. Just not in the way I had hoped!

By the time my birthday came, I’d had lots of “I’m sorry but…” messages. People couldn’t make my party. There were reasons/excuses. I was sad. After everything I had been through, my party was more than just a birthday celebration. It was a celebration of surviving. A celebration of riding out one of the darkest storms I had ever encountered.

Regardless of being let down by so many people, I decided to go ahead with my party anyway. After all, I had paid for it!

I had spent the day of my party getting stuff sorted. I tried to hide how shitty I felt by drinking. I couldn’t tell you the exact amount of alcohol I had consumed but it was a lot. Even by my own standards! By the time I left my mums to get to the venue I was extremely drunk. I don’t remember much of what happened. I know that only 4 of my friends, my mum, my aunty, their friend, my sister and her friend came. That was it. A party I had spent two years and more than £200 on was attended by a total of 9 people. Imagine just for a second how that feels. I have an exceptionally large family. Many of whom were invited. Only 3 family members came. Sure, they had their reasons (excuses) as to why they couldn’t (didn’t want to) come. Clearly it wasn’t as important to them as it was to me. That’s fine, you know? Not everyone has to value things in the same way. So how did I deal with being let down on such a huge scale? I got even more drunk!

I asked some of the people who were in attendance about how drunk I was. Just in case my brain had me exaggerating. Here’s the conversation:

Thanks everyone for agreeing to take part in this chat for me and my sanity. I know that my 30th was a long time ago but if anyone can recall anything from that day/night I would be most grateful. If we could just stick to that day/night and not anything that happened after I would be super grateful. Also, it may help jog memories if you have anything in Facebook for that date (29 Nov 2014). Take your time. Again, thank you.

_____________________

From what i can remember i know i turned up at the (VENUE NAME REDACTED), was introduced to a few people, was shown upstairs as there was a disco and people dancing, you were heavily flirting with (NAME REDACTED) to the point it was sexual dancing and i think you were kissing him at some point, i know i didn't want to dance and had to say a few times about it, after that i was downstairs talking to (NAME REDACTED) about random things and you kept making a scene about things, you told me that the DJ was a stripper as well and i didn't want to see it, you start complaining that everyone had to see him strip and i know it really annoyed me because i didn't want to see him strip and i had to tell your firmly about it and then you stopped talking about it, later we were on the stairs, i think we kissed and then you were in shock and went up stairs as everyone had gone, you told me not to follow so i didn't and i went back outside, you came down a little later saying that things happened with you and (NAME REDACTED). After you came downstairs you were in a state not to sure if it was to do with (NAME REDACTED) (FURTHER INFORMATION OMITTED AS NOT RELEVANT)

_____________________

Me and (NAME REDACTED) turned up and you were already extremely drunk and upset about people not turning up. We were hammering the cocktails. You were happy that (NAME REDACTED) had come because you were hoping to rekindle things. There was dancing and yes there was flirting with (NAME REDACTED). You were just Kim drunk, nothing unusual about the way you were behaving, you were trying to have a fun night. At some point I had to give you my bra as your dress ripped, not sure when. I also had to go home in a taxi and get you and (NAME REDACTED) a dress each of mine as yours was so torn up and (NAME REDACTED) had a drink spilt on hers, not sure when in the night this was. (NAME REDACTED) was flirting with you and (NAME REDACTED). We lost (NAME REDACTED) and found her upstairs chatting nerd stuff with (NAME REDACTED). I 'think' we left you and (NAME REDACTED) to clear up some stuff upstairs. You came down a different person. You lost your shit. You were kicking off about everything. You and (NAME REDACTED) did a lot of talking and at some point you were missing and we were all looking for you. Then as (NAME REDACTED) said, he spotted you and let us know where you were. We went on to bar69. My ex turned up and you and (NAME REDACTED) had to sort that situation out. You were drunker than I've ever seen you that night. I've probably missed bits which I will add if they come back to me. This is just what I can remember right now.

_____________________

I can't remember that much to be honest. I remember us turning up I think we were delayed for some reason and getting straight on the drinks because we wanted to make sure you had a blast. i remember talking to (NAME REDACTED) about doctor who for a bit and you (I think) came up and got me. I remember you guys dancing and I remember (NAME REDACTED) not wanting too which pissed you off a bit but you were ok. There was alot of flirting between you and (NAME REDACTED) but there was alot of flirting with everyone he was flirting with me at one stage during the Doctor Who convo. but it seemed to be flirting without intent if that makes sense? I remember being by the canal and you were really upset and not making alot of sense to me but that was down to me being drunk I think. I remember going to the cross foxes but don't remember being in there. I remember walking around looking for you and (NAME REDACTED) saying he had seen you on his way home. i cant really put things into any order because I was stupidly drunk and my memory is atrocious when sober.

_____________________

I cant remember much like i said... just remember u bein upset cuz not many ppl turned up which is understandable! And u were extremely drunk... i must of been drunk aswell cuz dont rememeber goin the foxes but rememeber bein in bar69 then walking home on my own... i remember u disappearin for abit with (NAME REDACTED) .. im sure i went into the toilets aswell and noticed the other toilet door bein shut for ages…

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One thing is for certain, that night I was very drunk. Beyond my usual drunk. Too drunk and in such a poor state of mind psychologically that I could not possibly have consented to sex or sexual activity.

I messaged him a few days after the fact and again almost two years later in a bid to salvage the friendship. Below is the correspondence:

__________________________________________

My first message to him:

I have been over Saturdays events repeatedly in my head. I was horrified to wake up and find blood down my legs and bruises that may or may not be related. I have absolutely no recollection of the events from Saturday during my party. I'd sobered somewhat in the aftermath and I can recall some of what happened when my friends and I went up town. Mostly because I had what I can only describe as a breakdown. What I do know is that I was beyond drunk. That much must have been evident to you. When you said that we'd had sex, initially I was mortified. Then I felt shame and embarrassment and now I'm just angry. Despite the fact that we may have already agreed that we would "probably" have sex, I was so beyond drunk that there is no way I could have consented and with you being completely sober you were the one in control and you fully took advantage. Having spent the last 3/4 days in a complete state of shock, I have now come to accept that this was, without question, rape. I had been blaming myself for what happened because a) I had allowed myself to get that drunk and b) it was almost inevitable that we would have sex as is/was the nature of our friendship. However, it is still not ok and in the eyes of the law, that is still rape. Not only have I been absolutely destroyed by this situation, anything that I may have had with (NAME REDACTED) has been completely obliterated. You knew full well how I felt about him. I am aware that I don't have a "conventional" outlook on relationships but it still does not give you or, indeed, anyone else permission to have sex with me when I have no control of my faculties. I am unsure as to what I want to do right now. I have been repeatedly advised to go to the police but I'm not sure that's the right course of action for either of us. One thing I know for sure is that our friendship is well and truly over. Since this happened, I can no longer trust you. I have no faith that this was just a "one off" and that it would "never happen again". Having been in a domestically abusive relationship, those words mean nothing to me. The thing that bothers me the most is your blasé message to me he morning after. "Oh it's a shame you don't remember"! Does that not ring alarm bells for you? Part of me wants to go to the police as I couldn't live with myself if I'd allowed another man to walk free and rape again but part of me knows that I wouldn't be able to cope owing to what happened in my past and my already fragile mental state. I guess that I just want you to say that you know it was wrong. That you did take advantage and that it was rape and not consensual sex.

His reply:

I am really sorry that you feel this way. I could tell you were drunk, but you didn't seem so drunk that I thought you wouldn't be able to remember. You had been coming on to me from the very start of the evening, which given our history did not ring alarm bells for me. When everyone had gone downstairs and it seemed like no one was coming back you climbed onto me and asked me to have sex with you. So I followed you into the toilets and we did. It was not forced and it certainly was not rape. However, looking at it now, as the sober one between us I should have said no to you, but given our history I thought it was what you wanted. I was obviously completely wrong. So for that I am sorry. I can't begin to understand why you would think I would do anything to hurt you, or anyone else. That isn't who I am. But I can see that this has really upset you, and for that I am truly sorry. I am also sorry to lose you as a friend. Goodbye

My message two years on:

It's been almost two years since we last saw each other and we didn't part ways pleasantly. That was not what I wanted. We have been friends and more for a very long time and I valued every asset of our friendship and honestly, I miss it. The reason for writing now is because the past two years have had such a negative impact on my mental health. I Thought I had reached rock bottom but I wasn't even close. I don't want to hit rock bottom. I can't afford to hit rock bottom. Every other aspect of my life seems to be working out but this one thing is looming over me like a rabid beast and threatening to consume me and everything I have worked so hard to create. The problem was not what happened, it was the way things unfolded afterwards. Your reaction hurt and shocked me. I thought, given the nature of our friendship, you would have wanted to talk things through. Try to figure things out together and make things right. I don't know why things played out the way they did. I imagine my accusation was a shock to you. It was a shock to me too. I sought advise from some very close friends before my original message to you and it took me a very long time to actually see that they were right. I don't for one second think that you're a bad person. I never did. What I want is a chance for the to of us to talk about things. Preferably face to face. It may not change things but I know there is a chance which is why I am doing this. I hope to hear from you.

His reply:

Thank you for your message. Before we start anything, I want one thing cleared up, for my own peace of mind. What happened was not rape. This is not me being dismissive. Believe me it haunted me to think I may have done that, I was shocked by the accusation and needed time to process it. I have looked into it, and I know, for certain, that what happened was not rape. Below is an excerpt from UK law. "The question of capacity to consent is particularly relevant when a complainant is intoxicated by alcohol or affected by drugs. In R v Bree [2007] EWCA 256, the Court of Appeal explored the issue of capacity and consent, stating that, if, through drink, or for any other reason, a complainant had temporarily lost her capacity to choose whether to have sexual intercourse, she was not consenting, and subject to the defendant's state of mind, if intercourse took place, that would be rape. However, where a complainant had voluntarily consumed substantial quantities of alcohol, but nevertheless remained capable of choosing whether to have intercourse, and agreed to do so, that would not be rape. Further, they identified that capacity to consent may evaporate well before a complainant becomes unconscious. Whether this is so or not, however, depends on the facts of the case. In cases similar to Bree, prosecutors should carefully consider whether the complainant has the capacity to consent, and ensure that the instructed advocate presents the Crown's case on this basis and, if necessary, reminds the trial judge of the need to assist the jury with the meaning of capacity.

" Being drunk does not preclude you from giving consent. It is only when incapacitated (ie unconscious or incoherent) that consent cannot be given, nor can it be assumed to still be in place even if given before this state occurs. When we had sex you were conscious and coherent the whole time. Consent was given (you basically dragged me into the toilet cubicle). I did not rape you. I would not do that, to you or anyone. That is what hurt me most. I was being attacked and hounded over a serious allegation of something I had not done. I felt closing off was the best course of action. I did not mean to hurt you. I was just protecting myself. I hope you can now see things as I do.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He takes absolutely no responsibility for his actions and made no attempt to fix our friendship. Instead he dumped all of it on my lap and walked away.

Was he right? Was it ok for him to fuck me in the state I was in? The only person who thinks he is right is him. Every other friend/professional/stranger I have discussed this matter with has said he was in the wrong.

According to the law:

The Sexual offences Act 1956 contains no statutory definition of 'consent'. Juries must be told that the word should be given its ordinary meaning, and that there is a difference between 'consent' and 'submission'.

Lack of consent may be demonstrated by:

The complainant's assertion of force or threats;

Evidence that by reason of drink, drugs, sleep, age or mental disability the complainant was unaware of what was occurring and/ or incapable of giving valid consent; or

Evidence that the complainant was deceived as to the identity of the person with whom (s)he had intercourse.

A boy or girl under the age of 16 cannot consent in law, (Archbold 2004, 20-152).

Consent should be carefully considered when deciding not only what offence to charge but also whether it is in the public interest to prosecute. Sometimes consent is given, or appears to be given, but the law does not treat it as effective consent.

Based on the above, I was raped. His rebuttal two years on is taken directly from the CPS website. However, what he fails to add is the final paragraph:

Prosecutors and investigators should consider whether supporting evidence is available to demonstrate that the complainant was so intoxicated that he/she had lost their capacity to consent. For example, evidence from friends, taxi drivers and forensic physicians describing the complainant's intoxicated state may support the prosecution case. In addition, it may be possible to obtain expert evidence in respect of the effects of alcohol/drugs and the effects if they are taken together. Consideration should be given to obtaining an expert's back calculation or the opinion of an expert in human pharmacology in relation to the complainant's level of alcohol/ drugs at the time of the incident.

Based on the summaries provided by other people in attendance that night, I was heavily intoxicated. Surely, any “normal” human being would notice just how intoxicated I was and - being stone cold sober - would refuse to engage in sexual activity with me?

This is what I have been dealing with for the past three years. This is why I’m in the mess that I am in. This is why I can’t go to cabaret shows without feeling his presence there - He was a performer. This is why I have issues with trust right now. This is why I’m always so angry, so frustrated, so depressed. This is why my drinking has spiralled. This is why I am self harming more than ever.

I don’t want sympathy or pity. I don’t want people to tell me that it will be ok. He wasn’t the first person to rape me. You never get over being violated in this way. You just learn to cope. I am hoping that by putting this out in the public sphere, I will be able to move on and start fixing myself.

I also want to challenge the mainstream notion of rape. Rape isn’t always forceful or aggressive. The perpetrator is rarely a stranger. We have this image that has been cultivated by the media. A rapist is a creepy person, staring eyes, physically imposing. This is not always the case.

If you find yourself in this position, just stop and think. If you are completely sober and someone incredibly intoxicated wants to have sex with you, tell them no. If they lash out because you said no, just walk away.

Rape can happen to anyone of any age, gender, sex, sexual orientation, race, religion etc.

Don’t become another statistic.

________________________________________________________________

If anyone is affected by my story or is struggling with their own story, please come and talk to me. Drop me a message on Facebook, ask for my number, ask if we can meet. I have all the time in the world for you because I know what it’s like to have to go through this alone. Please don’t think that you have to keep quiet. Please don’t think that I will judge you. I am here for you and I promise I will listen regardless of your age, sex, gender, race, religion, sexual orientation or sexual history.

FURTHER READING

https://everydayfeminism.com/2016/05/alcohol-and-consent-questions/

https://www.teenvogue.com/story/is-drunk-sex-considered-rape

https://www.sdcda.org/helping/prevent-rape/price-brochure.pdf

https://news.vice.com/story/when-is-someone-legally-too-drunk-to-consent

https://www.cps.gov.uk/publications/equality/vaw/what_is_consent_v2.pdf

Ok, I've been back and forth about sharing this but fuck it, it's now or never.

Every year on Baby Loss Awareness Day I think about sharing my story but decide not to because I was told so many times that 7-8 weeks into a pregnancy doesn't make it real... People aren't supposed to tell until 12 weeks because then it's "safe". The first trimester of pregnancy is known as the "danger zone". The risk of miscarriage drastically drops after 10-12 weeks. Also, the end of the first trimester is when a bump starts to show.

Needless to say, I didn't tell anyone except the father. I was scared. I was 17. I didn't want to be a teen mum. I had already been given "the talk" and it was entirely on me. I don't exactly remember how it happened. I was quite new to the whole periods thing, having started very late. I wasn't supposed to talk about it. I wasn't yet on the pill. I thought we had used a condom.

Below is an account of what happened - warning: description of domestic violence and miscarriage.

My boyfriend and I broke up and I started feeling sick. I figured it was because of the breakup. I also started needing the toilet much more frequently. I put that down to a recurrence of a bladder issue I'd had when I was younger. My breasts started to feel "weird" but I just figured they weren't done growing! After a few more weeks of discomfort I decided to take a pregnancy test. I told myself I was being silly and that of course I couldn't be pregnant.

I picked up a test in Boots, took it to the bathroom, peed on the stick and waited. I was looking at the results window thinking to myself how ridiculous this was and how I'd just wasted my money. The first line appeared. Negative. Then suddenly the second line appeared! It was positive. I felt sick. It must have been wrong!! I took the second test from the box. Positive! The cubicle spun around me. I couldn't be pregnant. I was 17! I was going to college. I had my whole life planned. Babies came at 30. Not 17!

I left the bathroom and went to the supermarket to get a different brand of test. Positive! Over the course of the next week I must have spent around £50 on tests. Every single one positive! That was it. I was pregnant!

The summer holidays were approaching. People would notice. I decided to call my ex. It was his after all. He couldn't have been happier. He promised to be there. Take care of us. Give us everything we needed. He wanted us to get back together. I said no and he hung up the phone.

A week later, the fair came to town. I went with some friends. I'd focused on ignoring the little Bubble growing inside me. I had great fun at the fair. All the time, hiding my secret.

As we were leaving the fair, my ex appeared. He looked angry. He was screaming at me. Calling me a slut, a whore, a disgusting cunt. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away from my friends. They said they would meet me in town and left.

He asked me what I thought I was doing being out with guys whilst carrying his child. I told him we were just having fun. We argued. The details of which are hazy but he was repetedly calling me horrible names.

Then he hit me. A sucker punch right to the stomach. I fell to the ground crying and clutching my tummy. Trying to protect my baby. Our baby. He kicked towards my face and as I moved my hands up to defend myself his boot landed in the middle of my stomach. He then pulled me up and shoved me into the wall. He pummeled my stomach. Over  and over. Each blow delivering a death sentence to our tiny Bubble.

When he stopped, I slid to the floor. Gasping for breath. Crying. Cradling my stomach. He spat at me and said "that's what you get for being a whore!" He walked away, leaving me in a heap on the floor. I pulled myself up. Everything was a blur. I called my friends and told them I was going home and that I would see them another time.

I walked the mile or so home. All the time my stomach twisting into painful knots. I started talking to my Bubble. Reassuing them that everything was going to be ok and that I could take care of them myself.

When I got home I went straight to the bathroom. The pain in my stomach had become so bad that I could hardly breathe. I sat on the toilet and looked down. There was blood everywhere. I got into the shower. Blood running down my thighs. I washed it off as best as I could and got myself dressed.

I didn't tell anyone what had happened but I went to the doctors the following week. I was still bleeding. I told the doctor I had several positive pregnancy tests but I was bleeding. The doctor took a urine sample and booked me in for an internal ultrasound. The following week they told me the news. I had been pregnant, not that far along 7-8 weeks but that I had miscarried. I cried. The doctor told me how it was common to miscarry in the early stages. I didn't say how I had miscarried. I just went home. Became withdrawn. Started drinking heavily. He told everyone I'd had a termination to spite him. I was pushed out of my social circle.

After I'd moved to London, I'd started seeing a guy who wanted us to have children eventually. I told him what had happened when I was 17. I went to see my GP. Told them I'd previously miscarried, no details. I had scans and tests. They told me I had scar tissue. Would probably never be able to get pregnant without medical assistance if at all. They told me not to be downhearted. Science was advancing. It might be fixable in a few years.

15 years ago I had a miscarriage by violence. Today I can no longer carry children. My Bubble was just 7 or 8 weeks along. My Bubble was still a baby. I kept it a secret. To ashamed to talk. To embarrassed. Today, empowered by my beautiful friend Kiki DeVille and some other wonderful angel parents I share my story alongside my poem for all angel babies.

Don't let anyone ever shame you into silence. As soon as that test is positive, you are a mother.