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It’s not that I don’t care about this blog. I do. This blog has healed me in a way that nothing else has. But I haven’t had much to say on this front. So I haven’t been saying anything. I don’t believe in blogging for the sake of blogging.


But something happened and I just want to get it out of me. Potential Trigger Warning:


A few weeks ago, at work, a “friend” sexually assaulted me. I only use friend in quotes because up until that moment I had thought he was my friend. We have known each other for almost two years.


We were close enough that he knew some things about my past that I talk about on this blog. He knows, for example, about one of the times that I was raped. He knows about my abusive childhood and some of my abusive previous relationships.


For a short time he and I had a physical relationship. Which he ended. And I was more than fine with that. He is seeing someone now.


So he came by to hang out with me at my at work. I was alone with him in my office building. I did not feel unsafe. He comes to visit me regularly. We’re friends.


Until he made a joke about being allowed to touch me wherever he wanted to due to our previous ‘relationship.’ To which I very adamantly told him, NO.


He does not have permission to touch me anywhere. Not even as friends. I particularly did not feel like being touched that day. It happens.


I asked him to please not touch me. And he laughed a little. And that was the end of  it. Or so I thought.


We went to the break room to get sodas. As we were leaving he reached out and grabbed my ass. This is sexual assault. I did not want to be touched. I specifically TOLD him to not touch me. And he grabbed my ass anyway.


In the past I might have pretended to laugh it off and then gone home and cried about it. But I have come too far to let someone off that easily.


I yelled at him as I never have before. I told him he had no right to touch me. I told him that I had specifically asked him to not touch me.


He told me he had only been joking.


I got angry. Access to my body is not a joke. I have a right to not be touched. And I know he knew I hadn’t been joking when I had asked him to respect that right.


He did not apologize. I tried to compare my body to his young daughter’s body. How would he feel to have a man touch her after she said no? But to him, it was different, after all she was a child.


Apparently children have more right to body autonomy than an adult woman.


Besides, he told me, we’d had a relationship in the past. Again, I compared my body to his daughter’s. Would all of her ex boyfriends have a right to her body throughout the rest of her life? Even after they broke up? Even after she asked them not to? Would he be fine with them still touching her wherever and whenever they wanted?


Again, he told me it was different with us. See, he can’t be told no. He has to test boundaries.


I fail to see the difference.


He then asked me if I was still seeing my therapist. Because my reaction proved that I needed to be. I told him his inability to hear my ‘no’ told me that he still needed to be seeing his.


And then he told me he could tell how unhappy I was and he hoped I would find happiness someday. And I told him I was unhappy because one of my alleged friends had just sexually assaulted me.


He left. I did not report him. I still have not reported him. He never apologized in any way.


But none of that is the worst part.


Last week, another “friend” asked me how things were between me and the man that assaulted me. I gave him a very brief rundown of what happened.


This second alleged friend told me it was my own fault for still being friends with him. That I should know better by now that he would do that to me (though I am not sure how). That he hoped I would stop being his friend and had finally learned my lesson.


I don’t know if I have. The only lesson I am learning is that I still have terrible taste in relationships and friendships.  And I truly don’t know if I still see a value in either one anymore.

I hate to end on that note. But I feel it is a logical conclusion. A very small percentage of men are rapists or abusive or sexual predators. And yet, despite no longer being in relationships, I continue to find myself in friendships with them.



Visiting the hospital today…

I was not as ready to be there as I thought I was. That was tough. I felt really funny going up to the room. Like I couldn’t take a deep breath, but there was also this strange, dreamlike quality to it. It was hard to not think about my surgeries. There are still a lot of things involving those surgeries that I haven’t been dealing with or thinking about. Seeing all those people visiting my friend made me really start to pity myself.

I was alone for the vast majority of the time that I was in the hospital. None of my friends visited. None of my co-workers visited. Most of my immediate family didn’t visit. My boyfriend wasn’t even there for the last surgery I had while I was with him.

None of those people ever called or texted me to see if I was okay. And I can’t tell if it’s because they are shitty people or if it’s because I am a shitty person. It seems almost impossible that there are that many shitty people in my life. But I also can’t help but think that I would visit someone. I have visited people at work that I wasn’t very close to.

I can’t help but think that things are my fault. I guess because I usually think most things are my fault. Maybe if I were nicer people would like me more. If I opened up more then people would care about me more.

But I’m afraid that if I open up more to the people around me that I will either turn into some obnoxious drama queen that always has to make everything about me, or that I will be the sad sack of the group that brings everyone else down.

I don’t know how to tell if I am having a legitimate issue that deserves consideration and when I should just keep it to myself. I don’t even know who I am trying to be strong for. Myself or everyone else?

I don’t even know what I think would happen if I did start talking to my friends. That they’d be disgusted? That they’d dump me the second I showed emotions or needed them for anything?

I already know what not opening up to people gets me. Bursting into tears at inappropriate times and having to start going to therapy. I hate how afraid I am of needing. I hate being so afraid of rejection. I hate being afraid of being vulnerable. I hate being afraid to ask for help, or commiseration or even a hug.

I hate being this way. I wish I could just stop. I feel like everything inside me is tied up into a knot. All my emotions and memories are balled up in there. And the more I try to unravel shit, the more I see how bad that knot really is.

I couldn’t see how bad it was when I was ignoring it. I just kind of knew it was there, in the back of my mind. Since I wasn’t using those emotions and feelings I don’t think I really missed or needed them. But now I guess I have decided that I actually need them and I don’t have access to them because they are knotted up inside me.

I’m starting to feel more angry at what was done to me than hating myself and that is pretty huge. I just don’t know where that anger goes. I feel like there is no room inside me for it. At least not anymore.