I wrote this in one of my communities on Sunday. I've decided to put it in my personal journal as well now.

I hadn't cut since December 9, 2004. 254 days. But that is basically gone now. I hadn't been taking my meds consistently. I thought maybe I could do without them. But I fell into a depressive episode. I started taking them again last week and I've started to feel a lot better already. But... Last night I just lost it. The last few times I've been to the doctor I've gone through the cupboards and swiped those little surgical razors that go in a scalpal(sic?). At first I just did three tiny little scratches on my leg. The didn't even bleed. And I was like, "well, it doesn't really count, it's not like I really cut myself up." I decided to do one real cut. ( Could be triggering. )

I hate myself right now. But who am I kidding. I have been picking my skin for weeks now. Every tiny scratch I picked at until it was bigger, never letting it heal, making it bleed. I had a tiny pimple next to my nose that I scratched off. It's now almost a half inch in diameter of raw skin. I just kept picking and picking at it, making it bleed, making it hurt. A tiny ingrown hair on my arm has turned into a seriously painful scabby bump from me picking at it for weeks. I think I have caused permanent nerve damage.

I'm scared of myself. And now that I don't have so much time under my belt of not cutting, why shouldn't I just start doing it again? I have nothing.

I met Maurice when we were 14 years old. I thought he was so sweet and wonderful. He and I were the same height at the time, a little over 5 feet. Now he's over 6 feet tall, I'm still just over 5 feet, and sometimes I can't help but see that sweet 14 year old boy when I think of him instead of seeing the 21 year old man who raped me while I slept. It's probably just easier for my brain that way.

I stayed with Eric for nearly two years. We slept together two months into those two years and it was my first time. I knew within a month of starting sleeping with him that something was wrong with the situation. Eric had a messed up view of what sex was/should be. I was supposed to be his virginal girlfriend at the same time that I was his private whore. Private whore. I know that's an oxymoron, which is why it was impossible for me to live up to his expectations and why I hated the way he treated me.

After a few stressful days of unexpectedly not being able to pay rent, financially we are very well off! Made some money, paid rent (albeit a few days late, but paid nonetheless) and now we can get our cable and internet set up again and make more money and basically be VERY well off for the first time since we moved into our new place. *deep breath* Feels pretty good.

On a strange side note, I am suddenly getting the urge to get back in contact with Maurice. It's almost as if I feel like I owe him an explanation for dropping off the face of the planet. Or at least that I want him to know that I am angry and hurt by him raping me, especially since he probably doesn't see it that way. (Date rape stigmas and all.) I know I'm justified in just staying away from him, I even know it's probably not healthy for me to have anything to do with him at all. I think it's because he's visited my family and I want him to stay away from everything and everyone that has to do with my life. Since I seem to be slightly on better terms with my family, I want to tell my Mom to make him stay away, but I'd have to explain it and I don't know if I'm ready to do that. I guess maybe I think that if I say something to him he'll stay away on his own...

I went into denial so quickly after the rape that I successfully forgot about a lot of it. I knew what happened, I remembered the events, but I only recently had certain details come back to me. I read my journal from the time and remembered even more.
( Just in case you don't want to read, it's graphic. )

Fuck you Maurice. I would never wish anything bad on you, because that would lower me to your level. Let me just say that I hope that everyone knows what you've done, what kind of man you really are. I hope that you never get the chance to touch another woman again (though I know the chances of that are slim). Fuck you.

Things I did for you that you didn't deserve:

Sleeping with my phone next to my bed so I could wake up when you called me at 3am.

Buying (and sending you) everything you asked for and tons of things you didn't ask for that I thought you might just want.

Waiting for you when you left for war even though you'd raped me.

Trusting you.

Writing you several letters a week and e-mails everyday, even though you never wrote back.

Driving the 200 miles to Fort Lewis and back more times than I can count just to be able to see you for an hour or two.

Skipping class and work to spend time with you.

Paying to spend a night alone with you and then getting up at 4am to take you to base before the mess hall closed.

Supporting you through everything despite you treating me so incredibly badly.

Doing everything that anyone could ever ask of me and more because you had to go to war and I felt sorry for you.


I hate you for what you've done to me. I hate you because you actually convinced me for a long time that I would never get better than you, that you were my last chance, that you didn't rape me, that you loved me. I thought it would be hard to see you and hard not too. After you coming back and not even bothering to call (even though just the thought of your number on my called ID gives me an anxiety attack), I'm remarkably ok with NEVER seeing you again. You forever changed my life, and I hate that you have that much control over me. I hate you so much right now and I wish I didn't feel anything for you at all.

After I wrote my last post about seeing the soldier on campus, I had a counseling appointment.  Good timing.  I will be seeing my old psychologist starting this next week.  I have been talking to this other guy in the mean time and while he listens to me and such, I have to say I don't like him as much as Dr. Geil.  Maybe that's just because I've seen Dr. Geil for a couple of years now and this guy is new.

At the end of my appointment he took me down to the CASAS center (basically a rape crisis center on campus) and I met the coordinator there, Sara.  I am seeing her this Tuesday to talk.

I don't know what to say.  I still have a hard time saying "He raped me."  I can write it now...I guess that's progress.

CASAS does police reporting, they can help me file the incident report or file charges if I want...   I don't know if I should file charges or not.  I don't think I'm strong enough for that.  I was in denial for so long and I'm still not very confident.  Cutter says I'm hyper-sensitive about it the other day after he asked me "Why are you still upset about it?" and I got a little upset and said I didn't feel like he was being supportive.  I know he isn't questioning me, he was trying to ask how I was feeling after all this time, what was hardest for me to get over, but it didn't feel that way.

I have a hard time believing me sometimes.  How could I expect anyone else to?  I am shocked by my own reactions, I never would have thought I would go into such hardcore denial.  I literally insisted that it just wasn't rape.  It just was not rape.  The few close friends I told kept telling me it was, truly, I knew it was rape.  But I couldn't call it that.  I just couldn't do it...  I pretended it didn't happen until just these last few months.

We didn't break up after he did it.  Instead, I slept with him the next time he 'made a move' on me.  Why?  This is going to sound stupid, but that way at least I was in control of the situation- you can't take what you're already being given...

And as ridiculous as this may sound, part of me is kind of peeved that he hasn't even so much as called me since he got back.  Let me explain- I don't want to talk to him.  I don't know what I would do if I heard his voice.  But I gave him everything anyone could have asked of me and more, what I didn't want to give he took anyway, the least he could do is care about me just the tiniest little bit.  Fuck- I should know he doesn't care about me even the tiniest little bit.  He raped me.

I hate how confused this is making me.

On my way to check out a laptop at school today I passed a soldier in his duty uniform. Part of me wanted to chase after him and ask if he was in the 81st Armored Brigade (the same one my ex/rapist is in), if they were back from Iraq yet.

I didn't do it. I figured I was just being paranoid about him coming back.

Once inside the building I saw why he was here- there was a recruiting table set up. I walked past when another soldier's arm patch, the one that denotes which brigade he's in, caught my eye. It was the same as my ex's. I couldn't stop myself.

I asked him if he were in the 81st Armored Brigade. He looked at me like I was nuts, because I'm sure no one else who wasn't in the military has asked him that before. He told me yes and I said I had a 'friend' who was in that brigade. He asked me for his name. "Crallie. Maurice Crallie. Girly guy, plucks his eyebrows. Spanish." He looked confused for a minute, then asked if he was a sergeant. "No, but his one of his sergeant's names was...Coriveau(sp)." He smiles, tells me he knows Coriveau(sp). "Yeah, Crallie was one of Coriveau's favorites." He tells me he knows him. That they call him Don Juan. Thinks he's god's gift to women. Thinks he can dance like Michael Jackson. "Yeah, he loves Usher."

The soldier's name is Stemmons. We get friendly, talk about Crallie. I asked if they were back. He tells me that he left early for medical leave. I ask if the rest of them are back now. He says they should be. The last time he saw Crallie was after he got back from leave (last time I saw him, shorly before we officially broke up). Crallie was apparently talking about some hot girl he met from California. Gonna score and all that shit.

I ask if Crallie ever talked about his girlfriend. Stemmons looks at me, confused. He asks if I meant the girl from California. I tell him no, she lives here. He says he didn't think Crallie had a girlfriend. "Really? Pooor girl. He told her all the time that he told everyone about her and had her pictures with him all the time." Stemmons tells me that when they first got to Iraq and were in the tents, Crallie had pictures of his girlfriend and was sketching her. Said no one believed it was really his girl, that he probably took some picture out of a magazine. Ha. I suppose that's a compliment. Obviously Crallie didn't show the pictures around much, Stemmons didn't recognize me from them.

We smile and laugh. Talk more about the Crallie's girlfriend. "Poor girl." I say. "She sent him several letters a week when he first left, sent him e-mails and packages and he never wrote back." I sawy it jokingly, like that was just what to expect from Crallie. Stemmons agrees with me. I ask if Crallie was hooking up with a bunch of girls over there. Stemmons looks like he's getting a little suspicious, like he may be realizing I'm pumping him for information. He tells me no, there's no girls for Crallie to hook up with over there. I can tell he's lying. I laugh, say that can't be true. I have a girl friend over there who hooks up with a bunch of guys. He laughs and kind of admits that Crallie's been hooking up with random girls, or at least trying.

He's not suspicious now. But he has to leave. He's part of the 81st, I'm sure he'll see Maurice "Don Juan" Crallie again soon, seeing as how they're back in the country now.

I hope he'll tell him that he ran into some girl that knew him. "Where?" Maurice will ask. "Oh, when I was doing some recruiting up at Western Washington University." Stemmons will say. I hope that freaks him out. I hope that scares him a bit, to know that I talked to someone who knew at least a tiny bit of the shit that he's done.

I think Stemmons may have been talking about the illustrious Kayana. The girl Maurice had sleep over at his house while we were still together, she's planning on moving to California. She spent more time with him than I did while he was here on leave.

I'm terrified he'll call me. I'm terrified I'll run into him. He's probably pissed at me for not calling him now that he's back. Angry with ME! Ha.

Cutter and I went to a Sonics game Tuesday night. I stopped to get gas where I always stop, near my parents house. I realize halfway to the gas station that I'm right next to where Maurice's family lives, where he will live when he's back. I start to freak out, seeing every white sports car as his car. Thinking he's going to see me and come up to say hi. Acting like he never raped me, never took advantage of me in every way he possibly could.

I freaked out so much, my heart was pounding, I felt like crying. I was beginning to have an anxiety attack, I couldn't breathe. I just wanted to get out of there, go to the game, and forget I felt that way.

I found out that I can file an incident report with the police about the rape. I wouldn't have to press charges, but it would be on his record that someone reported an 'incident' aka rape, with his name on it. I want to do it. They don't have to tell him the report was filed and I can be kept anonymous if he wants to know who filed it.

Part of me wants to confront him. Part of me thinks that will make me less afraid. Part of me thinks that if I see him I will only be able to put on my brave and happy face and he'll never know how he made me feel. I want him to know what he did to me. But he wouldn't care, he would call me a liar. Everyone wants to have sex with 'Don Juan'. I did, I just didn't know it at the time, right? It wasn't rape, because every girl wants it from him.

I know this was a long one. Sorry. If you read this, I love you.

My big scar on my leg looks kind of yellow. Weird.

My rapist is coming back like...now. In fact, he could be here already. I am so afraid he's going to call me.

Things are going really well with Cutter. But I've been really stressed (money, school, rapist, etc.) and honestly I don't know how I've kept myself from cutting. He doesn't want someone he cares about to hurt themselves, which is sweet and I understand that. But in that emotion he gets angry and hurt rather than trying to be supportive and sympathetic. If I cut he would be so upset with me. And then he'd say something about how a few of his ex's cut and then I'd feel like I did last night- like I have all of the negative qualities of his ex's and none of the positive. I told him that scares me, but he says that's not the way it is and I know he can't control how he feels, how he would react. I'm just scared because I am running out of non-self-destructive ways to cope right now.

...and apparently he had a bit of a panic attack thinking that I for some reason might think we were still together.  (Well, if you've read my lj, you know I'm with Cutter and definitely don't think I'm with someone else!)  His little brother called me the other night upset because he just found out we had broken up and he apparently never told his family.  So he decided to just make sure I knew and sent me a re-break up e-mail.

It's always wonderful to open an e-mail to find a litany of all the reasons you aren't worth being with.  Highlight of my day, actually.

Ok, I know we've been broken up for a little while, but it still kinda sucks to hear it all over again.

I shouldn't have been so naive to think that someone would want me for the long haul.  I mean, everyone has issues but, well, I think I'm pretty fucked up.  I mean, some people just have a fear of commitment, I have a huge scar on my leg from cutting myself.

Cutter likes my scar.  He says it gives character.  And he understands about having something to remember that time in your life...

Why am I so naive?  To think that I actually was worth that kind of trouble...what a joke.  The thing is that I wasn't really upset when we broke up.  I mean, I gave him the easy way out and he took it.  I wouldn't have given him the easy way out if I didn't want him to take it.  But at the same time it bites to be rejected, even if I rejected him first.  It would be easier if I were over what happened when we first started dating...

I can't say I am totally to term with this, but everyone I've talked to says he raped me.

We were fooling around, he tried to have sex with me and I flipped (totally flipped as in crying and shaking and completely freaking out).  I said no, and he stopped.  We went to sleep.  Next thing I know, I wake up to him having sex with me while I was sleeping.  I flipped again and told him to stop and he did.  It happened one more time...but when I told him to stop he didn't right away- he stopped when I started sobbing and saying 'please, don't'.

If anyone else told me that story I would say it was rape...   I have difficultly calling it that- I just remember how I felt and how upset I was.

God I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?