upon reflection …

I’ve had second thoughts since my last post. You’ll notice I altered the original post a bit. It was presumptuous of me to paint a brush and declare that reporting sexual assault is the best thing a person can do. It was the best thing I could do for myself, and the prime reason it was the best thing for me was the fact that I had an impartial investigator, and an employer that was committed to doing the right thing. Without those elements, a person can find themselves in a precarious situation. By no means am I saying that a person should not report in the face of a less than ethical employer, just that I understand when the situation is too difficult or too risky to one’s life or livelihood to report.

In the early days after the assault I spent a great amount of time vowing to the few people around me that I let in on my secret that I was never going to report what happened. My therapist was slowly trying to convey to me that even if I decided not to report what happened that there were other ways I could speak my truth. I think she was actually close to mentioning the possibility of confronting my director with the truth. She never said this, but I had a strong instinct she was headed in this direction.

It’s hard for me to opine on what would have happened to me had I not reported it. Three weeks after the assault I reported it, though it was not planned, even in that instant of reporting. I was found out, and outed. My Assistant Director announced to me that he would not be able to accompany me on the upcoming business trip, and that the Director was going to accompany me instead. I started shaking, and walked away from him in that instant. He then followed me into my office, closed the door, and said, “What the hell is going on?”

“I’m just over reacting, ” I said to him as I tried to pay attention to the nothingness on my computer screen.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you overreact, and that was the real thing. What the hell is going on? Don’t think I don’t know that something is going on. You have not been yourself for weeks. You’re making mistakes that you would never make. What the hell is going on?”

Through my tears I said to him, “Please just give me half an hour. In half an hour I will do the right thing. Until then please leave me be.” We both looked at each other, and I knew he knew by the look on his face. With that moment the entire trajectory changed in that instant. My world was forever altered the very moment I filed my report. A domino effect was put in motion that’s still going to this very day. Sometimes I can see the division in the universe between today and what would have been had I not reported it. Then there’s another universe that exists in the neverlands if this thing had never happened in the first place. But then I get annoyed at myself when I start thinking about these alternate universes because in many ways I’m better off than I was then. The person I am today is more authentic, less of a bullshitter to myself, and more accepting of others.

Still though, there’s part of me that pines for that time when I was the noncontroversial gal in the workplace, the new promising recruit with nothing but a stellar reputation. We have such a new recruit in our current ranks, and she reminds me of the me back then in a number of ways. She’s well-liked, has a lot of promise, and possesses oodles of self-confidence. Unlike me, she likely does not have an underlying problem with alcohol, co-dependency, PTSD, DID, and sex and love addiction. Something bad was bound to happen in my life with that combination of struggles I brought to the table. I did not start working on any of these issues until the sexual assault. Strangely enough, it seems I have my assault to thank for the progress I’ve made thus far because I’m certain I would not have stopped my addictive behavior without something big and awful happening.

Bottom lining it: I’m glad I’m working on my shit, but I still wish it never happened. Sometimes, as shallow as this sounds, I wish I could just be the pretty popular girl I was back then. Not so much for the popularity, but for the ability have plans any day of the week I wanted. I miss having people in my life on a regular basis. Truly, that’s been the biggest casualty of this whole thing. That day in 2008 unmoored me to such an extent that my friendships suffered or just ghosted out for a handful of different reasons.

This post certainly went in a different direction from what I intended. Another abrupt ending, I can’t write any further on this tonight.

One last post for the dude from last summer and the summer before that …

Admittedly, I felt bad about canceling our date. There was a part of me that was looking forward to seeing you, especially since you have that flirty way about you that makes me feel all gushy and blushy with the buzz from the way you brush my hand while giving me a quick wink, and that’s within the first 10 seconds of being in your presence.

You responded to my cancellation in such a manner that I questioned whether I was hasty in my decision. This was your response:

“Please understand that my intent in reaching out to you was not to meet you again, have sex with you, or even hear back from you. I simply wanted to explain why you did not hear from me last summer. I am a good person, not a manipulator who was looking to take advantage of you in some way.”

Then the next day you sent this message:

“I hope you find what you’re looking for. Sorry I wasn’t it.”

I responded, and said to you that I had nothing but good memories of you, and no ill feelings on my part. I was just aware that I fell into a pattern with you that I did not want to repeat.

Then you replied with this message, “If you change your mind you know where to find me.”

The very next day I woke up to this message from you, “This is going to sound terrible. Now that you’ve said no, all I can think about is sex with you. Let’s meet to get it out of both of our systems.”

I said to you “that is exactly the reason we are not going to meet,” then I blocked you from sending me any further messages.

One of my clinicians often says, “when someone shows you who they are, pay attention.”

I’m glad I finally paid attention.

Sabrina discovers purple nail polish

Sabrina can be my toughest challenge some days. Since discovering Sabrina I’ve assessed that she is very likely the one who facilitated previous situations that were not safe. I really think she’s one with the sex addiction. When I first discovered her I wanted nothing to do with her. Doc convinced me that I needed find some ground with Sabrina, and not be at odds with her, especially since she may likely hold terrible memories of a sexual nature. He pointed out that my silent treatment of Sabrina was not serving me well as we were working against each other.

I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time, and I really started to think about the healthy things that Sabrina likes because she isn’t just about a lot of sex and a lot of drinking. She likes working out, nice clothes, and she enjoys looking good, whether it’s putting on makeup or fixing our hair. So, I booked a manicure for us, but mainly for Sabrina’s enjoyment. She loved it. Surprisingly, purple nail polish was chosen!


Shortly after that I bought us some nice make-up, and we’ve been having fun with that. But I can sense that Sabrina likes that I’m thinking of her. Ultimately, I’m trying to guide her to healthier desires like hair and make-up, and working out instead of casual sex and drinking.

I know this all sounds bizarre, but I’m just making up what to do as I go along. There is no map. You just have to feel your way through DID. I know of no other way to do it.