My TBI- Part 2

Yesterday, I wrote a blog post about how I got my TBI and how I was raped afterwards, and I also said I detach whenever I speak about it as a coping skill, because he gets no more power over me. The things he said, and the things he did, screw him and his mom, because she did a shit job in raising him. (Breaking into windows to have sex with sleeping woman!?). Some of this story will be about he got caught and how stupid he was.

Here’s the link from yesterday:

How I Got A Traumatic Brain Injury That Still Affects Me To This Day

For a long time after I left the hospital, I had a lot of difficulty articulating my thoughts and feelings which is why it went on so long. My mom had a feeling something was going on at night which is why she locked the window each night. And I didn’t want him to be able to get in, so I locked the window, not knowing she had already done so. Every time it happened I remembered thinking to myself “How did he get in? I locked the window.’ Months later, when I was talking to a special police lady to see if I was even able to consent to sex, I realized what had been happening, and for a long time I blamed myself. But come on, I wasn’t even able to handle locking a damn window I certainly couldn’t consent. He was a fucking weirdo.

I had to start life all over again. I had to relearn how to talk, and relearn what words meant. Spoiler alert: rape is not one of the words they teach you in speech therapy. Had I been able to tell my mom it would have stopped immediately. Like I said, the TBI made me a little slow for a couple years, I had trouble articulating my thoughts and feelings, and I was so overmedicated it took A LOT to wake me up. (That psychiatrist was a bitch). And what’s real sad is that there are a lot of psychiatrists that do overmedicate their patients. Which is one of the many reasons people don’t like to take their meds.

Anyway, our lease was coming up and all we were having a family meeting about whether to stay in the complex or move. All I could get out was that we had to move we had to move. I was insistent. “We have to move! We have to move! I don’t want to stay here”.

It was a month or two after we moved to a new complex that I felt safe enough to tell my mom. I did it in the psychiatrist’s office because I was afraid mom wouldn’t believe me, or she’d get mad at me, I had a lot of fears that were all unfounded. I don’t know why I thought my mom would be unsupportive, probably because that’s how society works. We don’t ever believe women.

There really wasn’t much my mom could do except be there for me, it wasn’t like the cops would believe an outlandish story about how I didn’t wake up as he was coming into my room, or taking my clothes off, or even the beginning.

Until he found out where I moved to. He came to our new apartment and tried to open the window, except he got the wrong window! I was knocked out in my room and he was trying to get into my house. Moron. So my uncle went outside and he’s just standing there like a moron, and my uncle says to him “***** you can’t do stuff like this”. And he turned to my uncle and said “Yeah, I know. I should probably go huh, the cops are coming aren’t they?” My uncle followed him to his car and got the make and model of his car.

The cops arrived and my mom told them everything. Including what had happened at our old complex. The were unsurprisingly a little skeptical, but then my mom showed them my room and said “Wake her up.” Needless to say they tried everything from yelling to dropping stuff on the bed. I wouldn’t budge. So my uncle gave them the make and model of the car and his last name. The cops were like “Hmmm, different car than he was in a few hours ago. We know him very well, we’ll let you know when he’s in custody.” Turns out he was at his mom’s house and they got him 15 minutes later.

So he got charged, (my mom didn’t want to pursue the rape charges in the condition I was in; she was worried what a trial might do to me emotionally), but he was still charged with something and I never saw him again.

Some months later I had a couple girls contact me and told me he did the same thing to them. So much for taking my uncle’s advice huh?

2 Comments

    1. Yeah but I’ve healed a lot and am still working on healing. I strongly believe in the butterfly effect, and I believe I’m meant for something great. Not sure when or how, but I believe it. I’m a fighter and a survivor that’s for sure.

      Like

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