Rape victim blames self, gets betrayed, heals

One night a bunch of us— ten or so— went out drinking. I was in the Air Force. It was about 5 guys and about 5 of us gals.

We made our way back to a friend’s apartment and continued the party.

A few people coupled off there in the living room, and I found myself under a man. We kissed until I passed out.

I woke up, and he was inside me.

The next day I thought about reporting it. I went to a friend who had been in that room, making out with her boyfriend. I wondered why she never stopped it, asked her why she never stepped in, and wondered if she would corroborate my story if I went to report.

“Oh, honey,” she told me, “you weren’t raped. You were enjoying it.”

My heart sank. I felt hollow and empty. I hadn’t “enjoyed” any of it.

But where was the line?

I kept it to myself until my therapist assured me that I could report it— even without that friend’s corroboration.

The therapist also encouraged me to reach back out to my friend: “She might be dealing with her own guilt or shame from that night— or even something else.”

My friend— who had been my best friend until that event— agreed with the therapist’s assessment. She agreed to provide a statement for me.

But then she went silent and ghosted me.

I felt betrayed by her the first night— even though I acknowledge my fault in all of this.

And then I felt betrayed by her the second time.

About 5 years later I met my husband. I didn’t tell him for over 5 more years. When I finally did, he responded with such grace and tenderness. I had been afraid of how he might see me, which was probably one of the reasons I kept it all bottled up.

That conversation with him was healing on so many levels. I even think talking about it helped with our sex life, because it explained some of the hesitancy and anxiousness I had at various times. It made so many things make sense to him, and he was able to really nurture the healing process with me.

This was important. More important than I realized.

I heard about a woman who was raped in the military, and she never told her husband. I understand that. I kept it quiet for half a decade.

For that woman…

… it ended in divorce.

With no explanation as to why she didn’t like it when her husband snuck up I behind her to hug her in the kitchen, as well as why she might “freeze” sometimes during sex, he thought she was rejecting HIM. He didn’t know that she was reacting to past trauma that had nothing to do with him, because they never discussed it.

He left her.

She blamed herself for the rape. She blamed herself for him leaving her. She blamed herself for a lot.

Hearing her story is what gave me the courage to talk to my husband. She said it was something she would do differently if she could go back.

She was right. My husband did all the right things. We cried together. He held me. We grew closer.

Her husband probably would have done the same thing for her, too.

I decided to reach out to the friend, again, after that— the one who was going to provide that statement and corroborate my story.

We conversed back and forth on Facebook for a while. But, shortly after bringing it up, she went radio silent again…

I still wish I reported the incident, because he could have gone on and done the same thing to other women. I blame myself for that. I think my not exposing him I did to future victims the same thing my friend did to me…