After spending the night at my boyfriend's house in Derry, he unceremoniously sent me back on to a bus to Belfast (about two and half hours away). I was so confused. Why?
Nothing significant happened between the night before and the morning of. We took care of his infant daughter, who was sickly, and that was all. It always bothered me that I couldn't put the pieces of the puzzle together.
The "official" story was that it was his mate's birthday and they were going to have a "lad's night out." I said that was fine, I would go do touristy stuff around Derry. But they wouldn't be home until late. That's fine, I'll stay at the hostel downtown. Nope, that was a stupid idea. The dumbest idea he's every heard of, in fact. Shocked and aghast, I rode in the passenger seat to the bus station and walked away. "Don't let him see you cry!" I was saying to myself as my eyes betrayed me and welled up with tears. Fine, I just won't face him. He said goodbye. I said nothing.
Fast forward fifteen years, give or take. Believe you me, whenever we had our period contact, I asked him MANY times what the deal was with that kick to the curb, with no sufficient answer. I moved countries, fell in and out of love, suffered loss, became a teacher, started law school and then one simple electronic conversation brought it into focus.In a recent conversation, it finally made sense. The night before the baby, something happened. We stayed at a bed and breakfast for a nice little romantic time together. (I will have to check my old blogs for the timing of this exactly, but I think that's the sequence of events.) Everything was hunky dory until I had a PTSD flashback while he was on top of me.
I had been raped by a former boyfriend about ten years prior. I thought I had worked through things, but this hyper emotional setting and the physical similarities between he and the rapist must have set me off (not that there ever has to be a reason). So I pushed him off of me. Apparently, I looked at him with such fear that he said he now knows what a rapist sees looking back at him.
Once it was over and we had moved on from it, I thought it was over. It wasn't. It still isn't. At least not for him. It really affected him.
Every time I think I have a grasp of how rape has affected me, I find something new. Rape and violent crime affects so many people close to the survivors in ways I never even imagined. When people think that because something happened years ago, it's over; here is another example of why it's not. Ten years after the fact, someone who I didn't even know when it happened, was directly affected by the trauma of rape.
It does not go away.
One relationship in my life that I thought wasn't affected by the attack; really was after all. Now I realize, they all are and forever will be.
