I was assaulted.
It started innocently enough. I made plans to hang out with someone I went to middle school with. I had also seen this person throughout high school, even though I went to public elementary and middle school and Catholic high school. My high school was all-girls, so naturally we needed to ship in boys to perform the male roles in plays, and this person was a drama person. We were also both hosts at the 99 (where I no longer worked when this happened). I’d been to his house for several parties, and had gone to see Les Miserables with him when it was in theaters.
Anyway. We made plans to hang out at his house, which, as I said, I’d done before. I got out of work at 5, and I was going to go right there and we’d order dinner.
I got there, in my sweater, leggings, and nearly knee-high boots. He let me pick what movie we watched. I picked Adventureland. We talked for a while, and I was getting hungry, but I didn’t want to be rude. We talked about a lot of things, among them my abusive ex-boyfriend. He asked why nothing had ever happened between he and I when we worked together, and I explained that I had a boyfriend, so the potential attractiveness of other people wasn’t even on my radar. Perhaps I should have left after that.
But I didn’t. We kept talking. I’m assuming it was harmless stuff, because I don’t remember it. But maybe I blocked it out.
Out of the blue, he tried to kiss me. I backed up, and suddenly he was on top of me. To paint a better picture, he is at least twice my weight. And I am now stuck underneath him. He keeps kissing me, and suddenly whispers in my ear, “The best thing about absolute power is giving other people the illusion that they have any power at all.” At this point, I’m crying, and can’t get any words out because I’m freaking out. He is, after all, twice my size. Which means he’s almost three times the size of my ex-boyfriend, the abusive one. I know what someone 1/3 his size is capable of, and I’m horrified by the potential he has to hurt me. Plus, no one else is home. No one can come help me anyway.
This part my brain definitely blocked out. He somehow got my pants and underwear off, and was going down on me. I’m still crying and freaking out, because I obviously know what he’s going to do next. He moves his head away from me and starts to unbutton his pants, and suddenly he’s apologizing because he can’t keep it up. He’s handing me my pants and underwear back. I throw them back on quicker than I’ve ever thrown them on before, and while I’m putting my boots on, he tells me that we should do it again sometime. All I can manage to do is shake my head, because no no no absolutely not. So he tells me I owed it to him, because he listened to me talk about my life. I didn’t even put my coat on, I just grabbed it and left.
He did bite me while he was going down on me, and I had a teeth-shaped bruise for almost a month. It hurt to drive and walk for a few days, because of how high up it was and the fact that I don’t have a thigh gap. The next day, as you may have guessed, was New Year’s Eve. My brother and I had already planned to watch the girls (A, A, and S, who I’ve mentioned in previous posts), so we did that, but I’ve never felt like doing anything less in my life. Shortly after that, the next residency of my graduate program started. I told my friends there what happened, and I presented it as funny, because I hadn’t truly processed it.
I didn’t let anyone touch me for a year and a half. I probably still haven’t processed it enough, because thinking about it is scary and painful. Sometimes I feel like a poser for being so affected by it, when other people’s assault stories are worse. But I’m trying to get better about knowing that other people’s bad experiences doesn’t mean mine wasn’t also bad.
I’ve been asked why I didn’t press charges, and it’s because I honestly just want it to go away. I don’t want to spend time and money to likely have nothing official come of it, and I don’t want things I did when I was younger used as proof that I somehow asked for this.
I did, about five or six months later, ask him to apologize. He read the Facebook message, but never responded to it. Now I have him blocked.
The reason that I’m posting this is so that other people this happened to might be less afraid to say something. We all deserve to be treated with respect. This is also why I don’t like New Year’s.
However, Happy New Year.
Saturday, December 30, 2017
Monday, November 6, 2017
I miss my uncle
My mother went to URI, where she played cymbals in the school band. On her way to band practice at the beginning of her first semester, she met another young woman who twirled baton in the school band. That woman’s name was Holly. She and my mother became best friends, to the point where my brother and I called both her and her sister Auntie.
Auntie Holly and Auntie Donna were super fun. I got to sleep over at their house a few times. They had a fluffy cat named Lacey, and the guest room was called The Disney Room. It was, as you might guess, covered with Disney paraphernalia, most of it found on one of their annual trips to Disney World. Most of the time when she came over, we went to the Disney store. She was always down to talk about princesses, and always found the coolest gifts. Her and her sister even accompanied us on our family vacation to Disney World when I was in fifth grade.
Auntie Holly never had a boyfriend (or a girlfriend, for that matter). She’d had some before (and was apparently not into girls), but she was single my entire life. Until my mom’s 4th of July party after my junior year of high school. She brought a guy with her, whom she’d been dating for a while (I think almost a year). Since she had been single for so long, she wanted to wait to make sure it was *for real* before she told everyone. I feel her, but I’m so impatient I would never be able to keep a secret like that for any length of time.
Anyway. This man’s name was John. He had a nice smile, and a deeper voice than I expected from someone so skinny. He seemed nervous, which was silly to me because nobody on that deck was intimidating in any way.
My high school boyfriend and I were instantly won over, because he had a tattoo of the devil on his left arm. He talked with us about music we liked and tattoos we wanted, and it was great.
After that party, he came over every time my aunt came over. I liked him more and more each time I saw him. I’ve never been a super touchy person, and after I was sexually assaulted I was even less so, but I never minded a hug from him. I made mistakes as a young adult, some of them pretty big, but he never made me feel like I was a bad person.
He and my aunt got married six years ago. They’d already moved in together, and their wedding was at their house. They’d found a house with enough space for her father and sister to move with them (all three of them had lived together before). I also learned that his oldest daughter was not his biological daughter, but he had adopted her when he married her mother. He has something like seven or eight daughters (with several different ex-wives), and he has good relationships with all of them.
About a year ago, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. My aunt waited to tell my mother, because it happened right after my grandmother got diagnosed with ovarian cancer. He found it earlier than people usually find it, and thus he was given more time. He decided to try some sort of off-the-books treatment which required him to do super fun things like get coffee enemas, and also required a trip to Mexico for surgery and a bizarre diet of basically nothing that tastes good.
I think he expected it to be a magical, miracle cure, but it wasn’t. He still felt like shit, and he still had to keep up with the diet and the coffee enemas. (I’m sorry to harp on that, I just can’t imagine what that must be like. It probably smells so good, and it’s a pity that such a delicious smell must have been associated with pain, or at the very least discomfort.)
On Friday night, my Uncle John died. The last time I saw him was my mom’s 4th of July party last year. He didn’t come this year because he didn’t feel well, and every time my mom and brother went to visit him I was working. I regret that the last thing I ever said to my uncle was that I was a pickle. I was skipping out on the party to go to Cirque du Soleil with my then-boyfriend, but I also just plain hate my mom’s 4th of July party. He still gave me a huge hug, though. He still didn’t make me feel like a bad person for doing something different than my parents wanted.
I feel sad for my aunt. It took her a long time to find love, and she only had it for twelve years. She built a life around a man who is now gone, and she has to figure out what pieces of that life she can afford to keep.
I feel sad for my mom, who lost a good friend.
I feel sad for Uncle John’s daughters. He was undoubtedly a great dad.
But mostly I feel sad for me. I didn’t get to see him often, but I loved my Uncle John. He was cool and funny and smart in a way that seemed so effortless. His presence was so casual and comforting.
I have never felt such unconditional love from anyone, let alone a man who didn’t have to love me at all.
I miss my uncle, and it’s not fucking fair. There are terrible people who do terrible things, and they live to be old and grey. My uncle was great, and he was in pain for a year and died before fifty-five.
Auntie Holly and Auntie Donna were super fun. I got to sleep over at their house a few times. They had a fluffy cat named Lacey, and the guest room was called The Disney Room. It was, as you might guess, covered with Disney paraphernalia, most of it found on one of their annual trips to Disney World. Most of the time when she came over, we went to the Disney store. She was always down to talk about princesses, and always found the coolest gifts. Her and her sister even accompanied us on our family vacation to Disney World when I was in fifth grade.
Auntie Holly never had a boyfriend (or a girlfriend, for that matter). She’d had some before (and was apparently not into girls), but she was single my entire life. Until my mom’s 4th of July party after my junior year of high school. She brought a guy with her, whom she’d been dating for a while (I think almost a year). Since she had been single for so long, she wanted to wait to make sure it was *for real* before she told everyone. I feel her, but I’m so impatient I would never be able to keep a secret like that for any length of time.
Anyway. This man’s name was John. He had a nice smile, and a deeper voice than I expected from someone so skinny. He seemed nervous, which was silly to me because nobody on that deck was intimidating in any way.
My high school boyfriend and I were instantly won over, because he had a tattoo of the devil on his left arm. He talked with us about music we liked and tattoos we wanted, and it was great.
After that party, he came over every time my aunt came over. I liked him more and more each time I saw him. I’ve never been a super touchy person, and after I was sexually assaulted I was even less so, but I never minded a hug from him. I made mistakes as a young adult, some of them pretty big, but he never made me feel like I was a bad person.
He and my aunt got married six years ago. They’d already moved in together, and their wedding was at their house. They’d found a house with enough space for her father and sister to move with them (all three of them had lived together before). I also learned that his oldest daughter was not his biological daughter, but he had adopted her when he married her mother. He has something like seven or eight daughters (with several different ex-wives), and he has good relationships with all of them.
About a year ago, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. My aunt waited to tell my mother, because it happened right after my grandmother got diagnosed with ovarian cancer. He found it earlier than people usually find it, and thus he was given more time. He decided to try some sort of off-the-books treatment which required him to do super fun things like get coffee enemas, and also required a trip to Mexico for surgery and a bizarre diet of basically nothing that tastes good.
I think he expected it to be a magical, miracle cure, but it wasn’t. He still felt like shit, and he still had to keep up with the diet and the coffee enemas. (I’m sorry to harp on that, I just can’t imagine what that must be like. It probably smells so good, and it’s a pity that such a delicious smell must have been associated with pain, or at the very least discomfort.)
On Friday night, my Uncle John died. The last time I saw him was my mom’s 4th of July party last year. He didn’t come this year because he didn’t feel well, and every time my mom and brother went to visit him I was working. I regret that the last thing I ever said to my uncle was that I was a pickle. I was skipping out on the party to go to Cirque du Soleil with my then-boyfriend, but I also just plain hate my mom’s 4th of July party. He still gave me a huge hug, though. He still didn’t make me feel like a bad person for doing something different than my parents wanted.
I feel sad for my aunt. It took her a long time to find love, and she only had it for twelve years. She built a life around a man who is now gone, and she has to figure out what pieces of that life she can afford to keep.
I feel sad for my mom, who lost a good friend.
I feel sad for Uncle John’s daughters. He was undoubtedly a great dad.
But mostly I feel sad for me. I didn’t get to see him often, but I loved my Uncle John. He was cool and funny and smart in a way that seemed so effortless. His presence was so casual and comforting.
I have never felt such unconditional love from anyone, let alone a man who didn’t have to love me at all.
I miss my uncle, and it’s not fucking fair. There are terrible people who do terrible things, and they live to be old and grey. My uncle was great, and he was in pain for a year and died before fifty-five.
Tuesday, March 7, 2017
Well, I learned my lesson
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| Me right before the fateful dye |
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| Right after the dye...see, it looked really good |
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| Tuesday before the burlesque show. I didn't know anything was wrong yet, but my face actually is pretty red |
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| My neck Wednesday morning |
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| My face Wednesday afternoon |
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| My face Wednesday night when I woke up from my nap |
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| My face Wednesday night after my shower |
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| More swelling Wednesday night |
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| Right before I went to bed Wednesday |
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| Thursday morning |
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| Thursday after being awake for about two hours |
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| Thursday right before I left for Urgent Care |
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| Thursday, immediately after taking my first dose of meds |
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| Thursday night |
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| Friday morning |
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| Saturday morning |
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| Sunday morning |
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| Sunday after being awake for a few hours, and showering |
This time, I thought I’d try to cut costs a little and have my mom do it. I also thought I’d spice it up a little and get a *crazy* red. I got Splat brand hair dye, and the color was called Crimson Obsession. Different enough to be cool, but not fire engine red or anything.
The hair dye was already mixed, which my mom and I thought was a little weird. The dye itself was also really thick. I washed it out, and even though I scrubbed the shit out of my head, I couldn’t get it all. We’d put Vaseline around my hairline and on my forehead and neck, but there were still stains. My mom had to go out anyway, and while she was out, she found hair dye removal towelettes, and she helped me go in for another round of extraneous dye removal. My scalp was itchy and the back of my neck felt kind of raw, but whatever, right?
In the morning, I noticed that there were a lot of raw areas on my scalp, and they were starting to weep and scab over. It was still itchy as hell. A parent suggested coconut oil, so after work I booked it to Target and found a sample pack of a coconut oil hair conditioner. I showered at J’s apartment, then got ready to meet him and go to a burlesque show - which was fun, but I was still itchy, weepy, and scabby.
Wednesday at work I started to go downhill fast. I was out of my brain with itchiness, and there were huge scabs and tons of scab liquid. My co-teacher also noticed that I looked a little puffy, and generally not good, and the back of my neck was super red. I got someone to cover in my classroom and went home. I took Benadryl and slept all afternoon. When I woke up, my pillow was covered in blood and scab liquid that had been turned pink by the dye. My hair was also this disgusting matted mess that I needed my mother’s help to comb out. After dinner, I had my mom put a lemon juice and yogurt mix on my scalp that I’d read about online. Then I showered, took more Benadryl, and went to bed. I felt better, so I planned to go to work the next day.
I woke up and couldn’t open up my right eye at all, so I texted my boss and told her I wasn’t coming in, and was going to the doctor. Unfortunately, their earliest appointment was 2:30, and my face was getting more and more swollen, so my mom took me to urgent care. They prescribed me prednisone, and told me to also take Benadryl and Zyrtec.
After starting the prednisone, I finally felt better. It took a few days, but my scabs all went away, and my neck and face calmed down. Everything is back to normal except my neck, which is still kind of itchy, but I think that’s more because it keeps being touched than because of any actual reaction.
Of course, I was a dummy and didn’t do a patch test. I’m trying to make an appointment with an allergist to find out exactly what I had a reaction to, because I want to stay a redhead and maybe experiment with funky colors, but I most certainly do not want to have a reaction again.
Monday, January 2, 2017
Happy New Year!
Well, 2016 was...a year. I’m glad it’s over, but I suppose some good things did happen. I kind of fell off the wagon as far as my good things jar goes, but I’ll try again this year. Also, I would have written this yesterday, but the new year kindly greeted me with a vicious stomach bug/food poisoning at 5 in the morning.
So! Good things. I visited my friends in Seattle and Spokane in the Spring. I went to my first Anime Boston, my first Comic Con in a few years, and an Anime Con in New Hampshire. I got a new job, courtesy of a former co-worker, who is now my co-teacher. I met a student of mine who is beyond my favorite. My new job is great and super laid back and the company cares about the children and the families (and the teachers!), not just academic output. There is always more to life than academic output. I was introduced to a distillery that I quite enjoy. A new Harry Potter book (sort of) came out, and a new Harry Potter movie came out. I bought plane tickets to go see my friends in Spokane in both April and October (when they will be married). I have developed a very solid and meaningful connection with my co-teacher, which was there before, but now is that much stronger.
I’m sure there are other good things, but this is what stuck out. It is my goal to focus on the good things, which is an important goal because, as far as my own life goes, I tend to be the very definition of Debbie Downer. I can always see the positives for other people, and usually try to help them see it, but I’m pretty bad at doing it for myself. I’m going to do my best to stay on top of the good things jar, but at the very least to keep the good things at the front of my mind.
Happy New Year, everyone, and good luck in 2017!
So! Good things. I visited my friends in Seattle and Spokane in the Spring. I went to my first Anime Boston, my first Comic Con in a few years, and an Anime Con in New Hampshire. I got a new job, courtesy of a former co-worker, who is now my co-teacher. I met a student of mine who is beyond my favorite. My new job is great and super laid back and the company cares about the children and the families (and the teachers!), not just academic output. There is always more to life than academic output. I was introduced to a distillery that I quite enjoy. A new Harry Potter book (sort of) came out, and a new Harry Potter movie came out. I bought plane tickets to go see my friends in Spokane in both April and October (when they will be married). I have developed a very solid and meaningful connection with my co-teacher, which was there before, but now is that much stronger.
I’m sure there are other good things, but this is what stuck out. It is my goal to focus on the good things, which is an important goal because, as far as my own life goes, I tend to be the very definition of Debbie Downer. I can always see the positives for other people, and usually try to help them see it, but I’m pretty bad at doing it for myself. I’m going to do my best to stay on top of the good things jar, but at the very least to keep the good things at the front of my mind.
Happy New Year, everyone, and good luck in 2017!
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