Just when I needed them the most they were there for me and spent so much time supporting me. Now we all have scattered to the different ports of our lives to continue helping others in our own way.
When we are passing through very hard patches in our lives we meet and are helped by some amazing people.
These people are so warm hearted and kind that they do their work without looking for praise or thanks.
I met some of these awesome people in the Rotunda Hospital Sexual Assault Clinic in Dublin the day after I was raped.
Also the Gardai in Arklow who took my statement and brought me to the clinic were very understanding, respectful and kind.
Being raped was hard but it was made even harder because my rapist was my husband. But by that stage our marriage which had only lasted a few weeks was over.
You see lack of education leads a person to think they are holding something of importance in hands and they lash out in anger when their plan doesn’t work in their time frame.
Rape is a horrific crime against a person , It invades not only your body but your very being. This brutal act can ressurrect its ugly head at the least expected moments and places.
Being raped was hard, being examined was like a second rape.
Counselling is very important after any traumatic experience.
The Dublin Rape Crisis Centre has wonderful people to help us through the waves of emotinal turmoil and feelings of self worthless. I used this service untill I was ready to start making rational decisions about my future.
When I attended the Crisis center I met wonderful understanding people who formed friendship’s with for that stage of my life. Each visit brought me nearer recovery and at the end of each session as the days grew warmer I’d walk in to Grafton street. Spring turned to summer and new hope .
But when I thought I was recovered something like a loud bang or an angry voice would pull me back down the tunnel away from the bright lights to a bottomless pit of fear. Shame was my blanket because I blamed myself for not jamming my room door that night as I did every other night. I used to walk for miles and hours replaying the night and its various versions; the reality of a rape and the if only I’d done things differently version. Even still there are things I can’t abide, people standing in my space or coming up behind me very quietly. Clothes are not to blame for rape thats for sure because my pjs were not sexy or sassy but warm and practical or as we say passion killers. Rapists are the blame for rape, not people and the clothes they wear.