Dear depression and frusteration, give me back my life……and a big fuck you at that.

I am writing this in an effort to vent out frustrations safely and non destructively.

Coming a long way since October after my near attacks on a community college campus that left me not wanting leave the house, developing PTSD due to my rape in college (2004) and an entourage of other problems, I am daily frustrated with the lack of activity in my job search.  Yes, apparently according to my psychiatrist , my PTSD developed after a cracked out idiot tried to sexual assault me in October but failed, the buried incident of rape during my collegiate years was opened up.  Ripping me inside and out, I gave up.  That incident, I am not sure I will write about.  It is certainly unsettling that that guy is still running around free despite reporting it a year after the fact, probably living with some girl under lies.  I don’t check up or look him up.  Never did I report it at the time, I was too scared of the gossip and sides taken if I did in my senior year, plus I was determined to graduate college and no asshole was going to take that from me.  Determined to not let my life get derailed by scum, I only told two people the truth of what happened.  I lied to the ambulance drivers and police.  Was it the right decision?  No it was not but the trauma will do funny things to you.

Reporting it after finding out he did the same thing to a friend of mine once she confided in my far before my incident, she did not report it either, just wanted to forget.  The pain is too great, so ignoring was the easy way out.  Once I reported it, the only people I told, wrote their own statements to the police on my behalf.  They brought him in but without the evidence of a rape kit, it did not go further than keeping the twit for a day.  His friends told me he lied about where he was or what he was doing that day.  Apparently he had a kid then with some old girlfriend who he was not with but just going to college.  See, we were all in the same circle of friends, being in the Greek system.  Everyone knew everyone, we all went to the same parties, so when one of us becomes a rapist, he will do whatever to hide it.  I told my story truthfully that year and people start talking.  That is exactly what I did not want to happen during my senior year.  But, once I was graduated and came back a year later for a wedding shower, hearing that he did the same thing to a fellow friend years earlier made me report it.  I had no expectations of what might come from it but it had the best closure I could possibly get at confronting it.

The last I heard he was married with another kid.  I am sure he lied to her about his past and tried to ignore what happened.  Slimy, slithering, cowardly, and worthless; he has probably repeated again to other women.  Maybe they did not come forward either.

After talking with all the fellow chapters of sororities about him, it came out from those other groups , he had a reputation of trying to seduce, or lure drunk woman to come home with him.   Other women had bad feelings of him and once I let other girlfriends know, he was marked like a big red X on his picture.  Even if anyone came forward today, the statue of limitations has passed.  The funny thing about how I was introduced to this frat douche was by a fellow sorority sister who I am sure knew nothing about his double life to go out on a date at a frat party.  I wish I never went.  One drink after at the party, and the next thing I remember is him on top of me in my room with no other recollection of the in between.  The worst part is he was not even using a condom.  I did kick him off hard and beat him up, screaming at him to leave.

The days after, he kept trying to talk to me on campus.  He would corner me at the cafe, or on a sidewalk making sure we were cool.  I tried to walk away, told him we are not friends and I have nothing to say to him.  Once, he grabbed me demanding I talk to him.  My only response is we are not friends, do not talk to me.  After that, he would just eye me from a distance.  The very fact of his actions only tells me he knew he was in the wrong, but tried to play it off like a bad day on the golf course.

I am married now and thank goodness, I was able to go on to have normal relationships, some woman suffer in their future relationships emotionally and physically.  The best way I can describe how I went on to survive is I avoided all social scenes and buried myself in college work.  I knew I was depressed , but did my best to keep my head afloat.  All I cared about was graduating.  Somehow I still managed an overall B average in my degree, a degree I care nothing about; but I did it.  Five years worth, changing my major once, I just never wanted anything to get in my way, even mental illness to take me down.  Looking back on it, it is amazing how I blocked it out.

In the present day now, my therapist and psychiatrist told me when that scum approached my SUV for a blow job, a switch went off and I was reminded of the past.  Luckily , I told the guy to fuck off, lock the doors, and roll up my window.  He trotted off like he was on crack, and off towards some building.  Sitting there stunned, at that moment, I vowed never to set foot on that community college again.  I went to report it to a security guard in the same parking lot at 11am that day.  They never found the guy.  I dropped out, terrified at the prospect of returning.  I drove to a park in the same city, shaking, panicky, and trying to calm myself to drive home.

That my friends was my first relapse since 2004, which was the same year I did report that rape.  Since October , I have fought for normalcy.  Lots of therapy, medication adjustments, lots of appointments with my psychiatrist, and in survival mode.  Ever trying to feel normal from the inside out, to feel connected to the outside world, to care to socialize, or function outside of my home.

Currently, I am back to normal, and doing mostly well.  The whole reason I was going to write this blog originally was my frustration with the job search which has created a lot frustration that leads to depression.  Somehow it stemmed into the deep abyss of trauma that I have not spoken of publicly ever.  All flowing out like a damn broken open and was not going to stop until all the water drained.

To be truthful , it feels therapeutic to vent this, not feel like it is a super secret.  I mean family and only best friends know now, but even those people did not know for years.  Ironically, one of those people I told what happened directly after is my now husband who at the time we were not a couple.  He came driving up at 2am five hours away to be with me in the hospital and take me home to take two weeks out from college.  Luckily, my professors obliged and gave me my work to complete and submit electronically.  I just had to get my head straight on, even once I checked myself into an inpatient psychiatric unit near home, I did not tell them what really happened.  I felt suicidal, which was good enough to get in.  Among that, depression, and the fact I took a gulp of mood stabilizers after the incident to dull the pain.  It was not really an attempt to kill myself but just to forget what just happened.

The hospital in town stabilized me, and my now husband drove me home and helped me check in.  After two weeks, my brother , his friend, and my best friend drove me back to my dorm to get settled in and to stay with me to support me.  Which , they did not know what really happened but knew I needed support.

Overall, if a rape were to ever happen to me again, I would report right away and do the right thing.  I know because I wish that bastard was rotting in prison now.

Thank you for your time in listening.

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