July 2017.
The past couple months of my life considerable trial of patients and strength. By the time anyone other than myself reads this, it will be over and done with. Taken care of in the swiftest manner as possible.
Almost two months ago, one of the worst things I could ever happen to a woman, or even a man, shy of murder happened to me in my own home. I’m just going to put this bluntly, I was sexually assaulted in my own bed a person who, up to that point, I consider to be a friend. It’s hard to plan how I feel about it even now. Time has gone by, the sun has risen and set several times, the birds are flying by, the clouds have rolled in and rolled out. Yet here I am, dwelling on the memory of what took place as if it only happened just a couple days ago.
Sometimes when the thoughts of a lot I can still see his dimly lit face, smell the beer on his breath, and remember the feeling of the cold air of my bedroom on my skin. It’s sickening to say the very least. I did go to the police, but the case was thrown out. Though, I will admit that’s mostly on my head. At the end of the day I had the evidence on my phone but never took the time to email it to the policeman over my case. I’m not victims shaming myself, I am just stating the fact that I didn’t do the one small thing that needed to be done to have this taken care of. But there is some good news to come out of this, though it won’t sound that good at first...
One day, the “friend who hurt me” decided to start messaging me while I was getting ready for work. He asked me if I was interested in hanging out again soon, telling me that I was fun to hang out with. Being in denial about the situation at the time, I initially accepted the request, but after a few more minutes of talking, I changed my mind and told him that I didn’t want to be alone with him again “because of what he did”. He was confused and didn’t know what made me change my mind. I did my best to dance around the subject but he was completely ignorant to what had happened. Too drunk to remember, perhaps. He was an admitted alcoholic after all. I told him exactly what had happened, and began to break down as I did so. Crying in front of the mirror and fighting back urges to just end everything there. I had to get to work. I had to make some money.
I cried the whole way to work. Sitting at the back of each bus I took to avoid stares at the back of my head. I cried sitting in the smoker’s shack at the back of the building. Sun rising above the mountains, the birds singing gleefully around me, and all I could do was try to collect myself enough to hide my emotions when others would come out for their nic-fix. The people who had known me for a while knew something was up the moment they saw me. I’m terrible at hiding anything once someone knows my tell. One after another they would come up to me and ask me what was wrong. I would insist that I couldn’t tell them what was going on in my life. After all, the “friend” and I worked in the same building. They all knew who he was. What if I was wrong? What if what happened wasn’t actually an assault? What if it was my fault that it had happened in the first place? Why risk ruining someone’s life if I was wrong? That’s a heavy accusation to drop onto someone’s shoulders like that. Eventually one of my closest work friends came out or her morning cigarette, and like the others, noticed something was wrong right away. I trusted her more than so many others in my life, I had to tell her. I had to talk to someone who would be able to empathize with me. I spilled my guts to her, letting her wrap her arms around me and hold me tight as I cried into her sweater. She wanted me to go home for the day and take the time to decompress, but I didn’t want to be fired on the spot for leaving for a reason I wouldn’t want to tell them about. Just then, as if by chance, another close work associate, who was also a manager, came outside for her morning vape and saw what was happening. I told her as well as best I could through the sobs. Once she got the gist of what was happening, she advised me that she was going to send me home and ensure that the “no show” wouldn’t reflect negatively against me. She even got my friend off the hook for missing work as well so she could get me home and spend some time with me so I wasn’t alone. Despite the fact that I felt like garbage on fire, I also felt very grateful to have people in my life who cared about me, and genuinely wanted to help.
Once at home I broke down again. A ball of mucus and tears on the corner cushion of the couch. My friend sitting beside me, trying to tell me funny stories to try to keep me more in the moment rather than dwelling too much. She told me that one of the best things I could do at that moment would be to call my mother and let her know what was happening. I felt terrified to tell her this. She would be so heart broken. Up to this point, I was the only girl in the family for generations who was never assaulted. An hour of convincing and nearly half a pack of cigarettes later, I was dialing her. Wanting her to answer and simultaneously wishing her phone was dead. My phone shook violently in my hand, heart pounding out of my chest and finally stopping for a beat once I heard the “hello?” come over the receiver. I tried to form the words to tell my mother what had happened, but unable to speak clearly enough for my mom to understand me over the phone. I eventually handed the phone over to my friend who introduced herself and informed my mother of what was going on in the softest way possible. I couldn’t advise anyone on telling a mother that he daughter was harmed like that, but I have to give her credit for the job she did. Comforting two people at once while one is hundreds of miles away is a skill that nearly no one possesses. I took the phone back from her after their conversation. Through my tears I managed to ask if I could come down to Colorado for a while, get away from everything, and spend some time with my mother. She agreed through her own tears.
I scrapped together what money I had to bribe A---- with gas money and more to “pay for his troubles”. He agreed and helped me pack the car for about a week’s stay. He wasn’t too thrilled about driving for hours just to turn around and go back to Utah, so he decided to go to Denver and whore around for the weekend, assuming that I would babysit Jasper while he did so. He knew that he was already going to be back in Utah by the time I wanted to come home, so I offered the same bribe of gas funds and pocket money if he were to come get me in a week. He reluctantly agreed.
The ride down to my mom’s place was quiet, cold, and distant. I felt like we weren’t even in the same car nearly the whole time. I know we were broken up, but I still thought that we loved each other. He said nothing to me, not even trying to console me in the slightest when I would start to cry again. I felt like a piece of cargo that he had to get from one place to another and he had a dead line.
Being in Colorado with my mother is exactly what I needed. I talked to her about everything, and we sobbed together over cannabis and coffee. I tried to get out as many negative emotions as I could while trying to relax and recollect. Spread out on my air mattress with Jasper (a German Shepherd) curled up to my body, as if he sensed my emotional turmoil and refused to leave my side. I felt like I had a little slice of heaven all to myself. Earth and nature surrounding Jasper and I. Rivers, lakes, forests, horses, and wild game everywhere, just for us to witness.
Sunday rolled around and A---- told me that he wanted to spend one more night in Denver. No big deal. Just another day for me and Jasper to chill in the high mountain summer sun. Sunday night turned into Monday night, nearly turning into Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night if my mom hadn’t put her foot down and told him to come get “his” dog. He came back to get Jasper that Tuesday. Advising me while he was driving into town that he was “not happy” and giving me attitude that his plans were cancelled because my mother didn’t want the dog harassing her animals anymore. He didn’t let me believe for one second that his plans being “ruined” wasn’t my fault. Now he would have to cancel his “emergency family leave” and go back to work, again reminding me that the rent was due soon, and that I was wasting time when I should be at work making enough money to pay it. When he told me about the emergency leave I honestly felt betrayed. He was using my trauma as an excuse to sleep around Denver for what nearly became a week. After he left town with Jasper in tow, he messaged me with a simple reminder that I’d “better have the money for rent with all the time I was taking off work for no reason”. No kind words, just demanding money from me and repeating what he had said while he was in town to pick up Jasper. On top of that, he also informed me that I was going to have to come up with more money for my part of the rent since he had to take three days off of work. Needless to say, I was outraged. But what could I do? Rent had to be paid or else and eviction notice would be handed down to us on top of a fee.
Mom could clearly see how distressed I was while looking at my phone, and like any mother would, she asked me what was wrong. At this point I would usually make up a lie to keep from getting ridiculed for continuing to put up with such a narcissistic user. This time, I’m happy to say was different. I couldn’t hide the truth any longer. I was sick of lying for him and continuing to live with his toxicity as if it was something I deserved. I told my mom all of it.
She was livid. I watched her face flush a soft pink that was usually reserved for when I would talk back to her as a teenager. A vein even popped up in her temple that nearly swelled to burst. Had he been in the room at the time, I know this situation would have ended with her in the back of a police car. Without hesitation, she told me to pack my things as soon as I got home so I could get away from him and move down to Colorado with her. Fear and relief washed over me all at once. A---- and I had recently moved into a new apartment, and most of my things were still in boxes. All I would really have to do was pack my clothes, my books, and everything that was mine in the kitchen. Which actually ended up being about ninety percent of what was in the kitchen anyway. What scared me though was the very concept of moving to a different state. I had literally lived on the same street my whole life. I had never been outside of Utah for longer than a week. Could I even handle picking up my whole life and starting somewhere new? Did I even have a choice in this? For my own life, I had to. I knew that if I didn’t leave soon, that this would be the end of me. None of my friends were currently able to get an apartment with me, nor did any of them have a spare room I could move into. There was nowhere back home I could go.
Things were tense with A---- the moment I walked through the door. I had already opted not to pay him to pick me up, but to instead use the money for a bus ticket back into the city. Leaving him without any pocket money. I found it enjoyable to a degree. He would always use the silent treatment if I acted in a way that he didn’t agree with. And not giving him money was something he didn’t agree with. Much like a child who felt entitled to an allowance. The only time he would speak to me was to hound me about rent. Even then he wouldn’t take the time to come find me in the living room, but message me online instead. What I hadn’t told him about my rent payment was that I only planned to pay my portion for the days I intended to still be there. Bitch move? Perhaps. But when you’re having to deal with a sociopathic mind, sometimes you have to sink for your own sanity.
I went back to work the day after I went home. The manager who helped me take care of my leave had informed our HR department that there had been an “incident” between co-workers, as I was informed when I was told that I was to have a meeting with the head of HR if I so chose to make a complaint against him.
I sat in the waiting area for what felt like an eternity, replaying the events in my mind over and over again. Trying to figure out what to tell the HR manager and what not to tell her. How much detail would be necessary to get my point across? Eventually she returned from god-knows-where and pulled me into her office to talk. She closed and locked the door behind us as I took a seat at her desk. The room felt a bit sterile under the circumstances. Cold blank walls, binders with numerical names lines what few shelves she had, and the smiles on the faces that looked back at me from her standard family photos seemed dead eyed.
I broke into tears before I could get the first few words out of my mouth. She quickly supplied me with tissues and water to help soothe the pain I was re-experiencing. I answered her questions and gave her the information she needed, the what, when, and where. She ended up having to tell me that because this didn’t happen on campus, there were no grounds to terminate his employment, but they could –if I so chose- to pull him into a formal HR meeting as well as ensure -to the best of their abilities- that none of our breaks or lunch times lined up.
Once that was over, I had to speak with my own boss. Not something I was looking forward to doing. I had such admiration and respect for him that the thought of having to put in my two-weeks was more depressing than I care to go into. I could barely bring myself to even mention the idea that my employment with the company was coming to an end within the month. Being my boss, he could only ask me a very basic “why”. I could only reply with an equally basic “I’m moving to Colorado.” His smile seemed sad, and he agreed to put the paperwork through even though he didn’t want to see me go. I went out for a cigarette to deal with everything that had just gone on.
My mind was racing with the events of the previous week. All at once my life went from a regular schedule and issues that I was used to dealing with, to working for a short term to a future that I was still unsure about. Following the steps in my rut day after day until I pack up and leave. Leave this place I’d lived in all my life, this place I’ve never left not to come back to. I was frightened. Sure I’d visited Colorado, but I always came home… To the abuse I was stuck suffering. I was stuck no more. I finally had the out I had been looking for, the out I had been craving. I as finally free. No one else could see it, but I could. That little golden light at the end of the tunnel of darkness that was my life up to this point. It was almost over. With a smile, I went back to work.
The next few days were a struggle. Morning after morning, getting up and getting ready, making coffee and riding the bus. It was mundane activity, but each day I counted down how many more times I would have to do this. Each day being reminded that rent is coming due. Finally, I snapped on that too. Telling A---- that since we had a new roommate (his new partner) and the fact we all had full time jobs, I found it rather interesting that we still had the same money problems. Not enough for groceries, bills, or rent, but somehow he always had money to go pit drinking with his new boyfriend, go see movies, and pay for dinner constantly. A---- clearly became upset, threatening me with the idea I would need to find a new roommate by the end of the month as he and his boyfriend were going to find a new place to live and leave me in the dust. With a chuckle I gleefully told him that I was going to be out by the tenth of July. While enjoying my victory cigarette he replied with the longest message he had ever sent me. Complaining that it wasn’t fair that I hadn’t given them warning or a chance to find a new roommate, though I had given him the same warning he had given me, though… I still hadn’t told them I was only planning to pay my portion of the rent for the ten days I was going to be there which totaled out to about one-hundred fifty dollars. Another day, another day closer to being away from his garbage.
I downed my pills every morning and every night. Spending most of my nights away from the apartment at my friends’ houses. Watching that last dose before the move come closer and closer. Seven pills at a time, every morning and every night. For this time, all I could do was relax and let them work for me. Not resisting their “magic” but embracing it instead. For the time being, nothing could touch me even though I felt frail and vulnerable. A---- would message me about coming home after work to spend time with my cat who was constantly being harassed by Jasper. I ignored him knowing that her life would be getting better too. A life away from constant harassment in the high rocky mountains… Things were going to get better for both of us.
The day of the move came without much hoorah. I spent my last couple nights out on the town with my closest friends. The afternoon of the move was amazing. Watching A---- and his partner move my things from the apartment to the truck was oh so lovely. I spent the time packing my last few essentials, along with the snake, watching them from my bedroom window with a grin. The same person who spent two years trying to tear me down, was now the catalyst to my new life.