I’m taking legal action. That’s what the ambiguous blogs have been about. The last few months have been discussions and information sharing between myself and my lawyer in the UK. If the state couldn’t help me, I will have to do it myself. There are complications and parameters that can’t be avoided, the state can STILL wade in. I can go into further details at a later point.
The time difference means I spend my nights emailing, waiting on emails, calling, reliving details. My day time pretending that everything is normal.
If I’d had a car accident and was taking legal action I could tell people. I’m traumatised reliving the accident. I’m tired from the time difference, I’m understanding the legal standpoint. I’m getting body memories from the accident. People might grimace and be grateful that at most they’d experienced a fender bender but they’d sympathise. They’d get my tiredness. My jumpiness. They’d understand why privacy and paranoia were a huge part of my life now.
People would rather hear I was thrown through a windscreen and mangled on a roadside, then thrown down on a bed and raped. That my injuries were glass cuts and broken bones, not intimate and psychological. That at night I relive losing control of a car and feeling my body being flung through glass than being pinned down, and penetrated so forcefully I thought someone was sticking a knife into me. That I remained undiscovered by the road for some time, not that people knew I was being raped and did nothing about it.
So it’s a lonely time for me. The body memories are so intense. I got my period, and I couldn’t use tampons. I tried and cried in pain. When I finally used the smallest one I could find, I had these terrible spasms and I thought I would never get it out. I’m a mother of four. I’m a mother of four and tampons are something I struggle with to this day. No one wants to hear that.
I’m scared a lot of the time. I don’t know what of. The past, the present, not getting peace.
My body doesn’t feel like mine. My stomach cramps all the time in anxiety, my breathing is a struggle even as I write this.
I have to live two lives. The one that deals with the past and the one that does the school run, that acts normal.
But the truth is, without this decision, without pursuing this, I would never be at peace.
I was hurt so badly. Nothing will repair that.
Nothing will stop the nightmares, the body memories, the pain, the damage.
The car is written off.
But I want my chance my justice. I want my child’s voice to be heard. That scream that no one heard as the body went through the windscreen, it needs to be acknowledged now.
I deserve that much.