Nora
This unfortunately is not my only story of abuse. Somehow what my ex-boyfriend did to me shadows what my other perpetrators did to me. I think it is because I chose to speak and out and report it, but the aftermath of reporting it exacerbated the trauma for me. However, I am slowly starting to see some light at the end of the tunnel to go back on track to recovery and healing.
It started one drunken night my sophomore year of college. I drank too much and I was going in and out of consciousness. I do remember that in efforts to be friendly with another student I had seen around campus last year, I agreed to check out his room at a dorm I had never visited before. I remember going uphill and going to his room and sitting in a big, soft comfy round chair. The next moment, he came to me and kissed me and then pulled me into his bedroom. He did not wait for any signs of consent; I shook my head no as he pulled down my underwear, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was working quickly to get what he wanted. I didn’t feel anything; I think I was too drunk to think anything beyond, “I don’t do this; this isn’t happening.” He finished and then walked me back to my room.
I didn’t know what it was for a long time. We began to date a few weeks after that and had a very volatile relationship. It was very emotionally and mentally abusive. He would often berate me for being stupid, even though we both went to a very high ranking school and I was receiving a scholarship to go there. He would justify treating me badly because *I* always caused it and if I just did things correctly he would never be mean. Once he even called the cops after he tried to attack me and got ME arrested instead of him. Once he saw that the school and police would believe him, he never thought once to hold back the emotional abuse. He made me feel sorry for him that his parents were afraid I’d follow him at night instead of realizing what happened to me was unfair.
At the beginning of junior year, we were temporarily broken up and I tried my best to avoid him. It was Halloween weekend and I was dressed up. My friend and I went to his fraternity house since I was still friendly with most of his brothers. After two drinks there, I started to get sick. Most of my memory for the rest of the night was gone. Suddenly I was upstairs puking in the living room with my ex taking care of me. He offered to walk me home since my friend was too intoxicated to help. I remember trying to run away from him and banging on my suite door to try to get away telling him to leave me alone as I ran to my own room. Then I remember my clothes being changed and being taken to his apartment off campus. I also vaguely remember a few seconds where he was on top of me in the dark.
The next day I had a feeling what he did wasn’t right, but with the police and school on his side what was the point of saying anything? I thought by resuming the relationship I would erase all the bad things and show that I wasn’t a bad person. I was just in love and we were young and made mistakes. The emotional abuse continued until he went abroad and I spent a semester home and an internship in a new city to try to forget what happened.
The next year we resumed our relationship once again. He would tell me that we were meant to be together and would spend the rest of our lives together. Then he would say I was too stupid to be with him. We broke up again for the final time. Unfortunately the abuse didn’t end there. One drunken night he was kicked out of a bar for physically threatening me. I somehow felt bad and accompanied him home because he was obviously very intoxicated. That night he said, “I hope you get raped again, you bitch” (he knew of my past attacks) and said, “I hope you fucking die.” He grabbed my arm at one point and then threw my arm. It hurt my shoulder so much that I couldn’t use it for a week.
I was so scared and depressed that I hid in my apartment for the rest of the semester. I only left in the middle of the night to get food, but most of the time I ordered in. Finally, fed up, I called my dad in the middle of the night crying and he drove almost 600 miles round trip to pick me up in the middle of the night and take me back home.
That’s when I finally realized what had happened to me wasn’t okay and I didn’t deserve it. I was looking forward to reporting him and finally showing that he couldn’t get away with treating people this way. Unfortunately, my school quickly burst my bubble. They didn’t properly help me with reporting to the police, so I wrote a statement and somehow it got lost in the system and it wasn’t actually an official report. I went to the school and they promised they’d put him through the judicial process; I never heard from them again. And then when it came to my schooling they had no sympathy. They never accommodated me, never helped me ease back into an environment both triggering and difficult. I didn’t do well and they finally expelled me. When I appealed and explained the situation? They said they had no obligation to help me.
So now all my dreams that I had for my life after the age of 18 have been shattered. I never got to study abroad. I didn’t get my degree from a good school. I have lost or been isolated from all my friends. I live at home with no money and I’m heartbroken that I got expelled because I was abused and the school didn’t understand and refused to help. I have lost my trust in police departments and men. I have an arrest record now.
But I sometimes get enough strength to fight. I made a website about how the school mistreated me. They found it and now are scared of media criticism and loss of reputation. Now they’re trying actively to change the sexual assault policy. While it is so bittersweet that somehow my blog has made my old school realize what they’ve done is wrong and they’re going to fix it, I am so glad that this is happening. I do find some solace in knowing I helped facilitate the start of change at my school that could help thousands of survivors at that school to come. I just hope for my own happy ending.
Thank you so much for reading my story. I just want to say college rape survivors are not alone and something can be done to help bring change. If I can bring change (through one little website) anyone can.
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Nora’s website is I Was Raped at Tufts University, and she tweets as @_waga.
