I hope someone reads this post and feels comforted that they had the same thought or can relate in some way. I hope it helps at least one person as much as it helps me to write it.

The truth is, the thought to report my rape didn’t even crossed my mind. Not that night, not the next morning, not the next week or the next month. And the incident involved not one, but two men who took advantage of my blacked out, rebelled out status at different points of the night. So, I guess it would be incidents (plural). And I was in complete shock.

One of the boys I knew, he had been a friend. And was it even that big of a deal? I mean, it was just sex. But during the first, I couldn’t even function to get out a no. Thank god I threw up on that nicely upholstered sofa and got him to stop; a physical rejection my brain couldn’t get my tongue to muster. He left me alone and I stumbled over to a loveseat on the other side of the room – safe to sleep it off.

I woke up to the second one inside me. We had made out years before, sexted here and there, but never anything more. Did I twist my reasoning to think that was some sort of pre-consent? I pretended I liked it while it was happening… why did I do that? I still wonder to this day what my wasted mind was thinking. I wanted it to be over with, for him to leave me be. Now that I’m writing this, maybe I thought playing along would make it all end faster. And you know what? I remember it being over within minutes.  

Free to pass out again, I woke up to the parents of the house making breakfast in the adjacent kitchen. It was all awkward silence and evil stares as I fast-walked toward the door and out into the morning light. The last thing I remember from that day is calling my best friend, who was inside the house in one of the bedrooms with her boyfriend of the time. They were my ride and I had to leave, like, 30 minutes ago. 

I never told her what happened. I didn’t tell my sister or my mom or anyone. I sat with it just… in me. For so long. By telling this story, my reasons for not reporting show through organically: shock, justification, shame. And you know what? Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it. Maybe I wanted to pretend like it didn’t happen so then I could live like it didn’t happen.

And you know, life went on. I never saw that “friend” again, although he does hang around some people I see occasionally. I never ran into the other one either – he played water polo for some private white kid college and looked like all the other kids that played water polo and had a name like all the other blondes from Newport. Who knows… and does it really matter? Maybe that night happened because I was the one who – 7 years later – was finally able to put some of it into words. And, like I said at the beginning: maybe this will help at least one girl who is trying to process her memories from that night that roll around in her head. Or maybe the girl who’s night was last night will find the courage to speak up for herself like she should. And honestly, it doesn’t have to be a criminal filing or a lawsuit or even a formal threat. Speak up in whatever way is right for you. Even if that’s just telling your best friend.

It has just been within this past year that I’ve dusted off these memories to give them a long hard stare. To dissect them, learn from them. Maybe let myself heal just a little bit. I read that Jupiter, the optimistic planet, has been in Scorpio, the sign of rebirth, over the last year. This causes introspection, demon-facing, and pain uncovering. Well, beautiful Jupiter is moving to its home location (and my sign) Sagittarius aka the sign of truth and healing. I was blown away by how accurately this described my thought process the last year, and I’m equally excited to see what this next year will bring.