My followers may have noticed that I didn’t post on my usual day. Sorry if that ruined your week, haha! It was a hard week, and I’m sorry that my wonderful followers had to suffer for it. If you’re new, welcome, let’s be friends!
My week was off to a bad start when I ran into my rapist for the first time in three years.
It was at work, when I was out with a client. We went to Tim Horton’s (which is a Canadian coffee shop chain, for all my international friends) for some Kelsey-brand cheering up and there he was. At first, I didn’t recognise him. I just saw a group of unwashed nerds playing card games and idly wondered if they were playing Magic: The Gathering. Then, I got a better look at him. There he was. Just sitting there.
Luckily, he didn’t see me. This is good. The last time I saw him in the flesh he smiled, waved and tried to talk to me. I gave him the middle finger. That’s not the kind of behaviour you can get away with at work.
I managed to be okay during the visit, but when I got back to the parking lot at work I heaved. On a scale of mild hunger to food poisoning, my nausea after seeing him was somewhere around the time I ate undercooked eggs in home economics class.
I went home and tried to laugh it off while letting myself feel, but that is so. damn. hard. I repressed most of what I was feeling and it came out in the form of anxiety attacks in the days following. I was also more depressed and apathetic than usual.
Of course seeing him bothered me. But the why is more complicated than simple “I see a rapist asshole.”
I cope with what happened to me by telling myself that R, due to his drug habits and messed up family, is worse off than me. I imagine and hope that no matter how much I’m suffering, he’s probably coked out of his gourd. But I saw him, and his skin looks normal, he’s a normal weight, nothing like the drug addict I imagined. I guess I should be happy for him. I’m not. My partner told me that he’s at Tim Horton’s playing card games on a Saturday night, so his life can’t be that great, but it’s not what I wanted. I tell myself that nobody wins in these situations, but right now there’s a clear loser.
I was also irrationally angry at the police officers that were there. I wanted to scream at them that a rapist was sitting two feet from them. I wanted to tell them to arrest him. But that’s stupid. They can’t do anything.
My parents wouldn’t let me press charges. By the time I came forward they felt that I didn’t have enough evidence to convict him.
My sole comfort was that his haircut still looks like a mangy raccoon got caught in a weedwhacker. The boy’s a mess.
I need a strategy to deal with seeing him again. My therapist and I discussed it and thought that if he talks to me at work I should politely but firmly tell him to leave me alone if he talks to me, and ignore him otherwise. She and I agreed that, if not at work, I should feel no shame about cursing at him and causing a scene if he refuses to leave me alone.
I agree with these strategies, but I still don’t know if I’d be able to restrain myself from punching first and swearing later. Especially if cops are around. I’d rather not write my next entry from prison.