pacificblue
New Here
Hi,
I typed this (or something like it) a couple of days ago, apparently it got lost in site maintenance, so sorry if you've read it before. Otherwise, good to meet you all. I've really found a lot of comfort reading things on this site.
When I was 17 I was attacked while out bushwalking (I'm 34 now). I probably should have sorted it then, but the therapist I tried at the time didn't suit me at all and I didn't continue trying.
The attack occured 4 days before I started my final year of high school, and the court case went on for most of that year - trying to get through all that was enough, which perhaps explains why I didn't seek help more agressively - I guess I just wanted to put it all behind me (as we all know, that doesn't work so well).
Anyway, I was out walking on forestry land near our farm. I didn't have my dog with me as I was on someone else's land. I turned up a dirt track, but had a bad feeling about it and after about 20 metres decided I should rather listen to the feeling and turned around - by then he was already running past the main dirt track I'd turned off. I stood completely still, hoping that if I didn't move he wouldn't see me, but he looked up just before completely passing the track I was on and saw me.
He was now between me and the safety of the tar road - probably about 2Km's away. I started walking toward safety (and him), hoping that being friendly would work - but it didn't. We couldn't really communicate as neither of us knew the other's language, but he didn't keep saying "fok jou" (fcuk you) and making it quite clear that that was what he literally wanted to do to me. When I said no and tried to walk past him he started holding me back and then started strangling me. After a bit I managed to get away and walk a bit further, but then he grabbed me and started strangling me again. And trying to kiss me. At one point he even offered me the small change in his pocket (enough maybe to buy a can of Coke) as if offering me the chance to be a prostitute or something. By the time I'd worked my way back down to the main dirt track each time he strangled me he'd get me down to the ground. It had been raining for most of the previous week and it was quite muddy and slippery (although sunny on this actual morning). It was hard to believe what was happening - set out on a nice walk to look for a waterfall and now all I can think is that I want to live, get home, see my family again.
I think each time he strangled me I got a bit weaker. In hindsight he'd probably never done this before or he probably would have just banged me over the head and got on with it. I considered the options of poking his eye or kicking him where it supposedly hurts most - but what if I only succeeded in angering him further and he just killed me there and then?
Anyway, I kept working my way towards the safety of the tar (bitumin?) road. We reached a junction where I could turn right towards the road - could actually see the cars going by in the distance (we'd probably only gone 50 metres from where I'd first met him), and he wanted me to turn to the left, I managed to understand enough that there was a hut up there somewhere which he wanted to take me to. I definitely knew I did not want to go to that hut.
He started getting angrier at this point - there was a slope down to a marshy creek, we sort of fought/stumbled down it and I nearly landed down the embankment in it. I felt that if I landed in it I wouldn't be coming out again alive. It's amazing how much can go through the mind in a split second of decision making. I knew that even if he got what he wanted, he might kill me afterwards. That he might let me live, but be HIV positive, and I'd die anyway (keep in mind, this was 1992 - my education on HIV might not have been complete, but I'm pretty sure anti-retorovirals were still a few years off). But I remember my Dad flashing through my mind, who I love dearly - I couldn't stand the thought of him finding me there, knowing what had happened and not being able to do anything about it, so I chose to live.
I leant away from the creek, knowing full well that he would land on top of me with all his weight. He did, I was completely winded. And he strangled me, and kept on, even when I tried to signal to him that it was ok. I think he must have continued till I was almost unconscious. When he stopped I felt sapped of a lot of my physical strength (lack of oxygen I suppose), but was still determined to live. The pain of what he did was insane, it was like it split me in two - my body in agony and screaming (I could hear myself, almost as if it was coming from someone lying next to me), but my brain was completely calm, calculating how to get out of this mess. It could have lasted an eternity, or a minute, I have no idea. But when he sat up he looked quite relaxed and pleased with himself. I didn't want to give him long enough to start wondering what do do with me, so while he was kneeling above me, redressing himself, I jumped up, pulled up my pants, and started running in one motion.
It was ages before I had the courage to look back and see if he was following me - when I eventually did he was nowhere to be seen, but I was too terrified of him reappearing to stop running. Next to the tar road I had to climb through a barbed wire fence and up to the road where I flagged down the first car which drove past at first, then came back for me. At that moment I realised how wild I must have looked - covered in mud, blood down my legs. They took me back to a motel just down the road (the manager was a family friend, my younger brother was fishing there waiting for me to get back from my walk).
I reported it, and he was caught. The court case through my final year of school was a nightmare. The day I had to go to court was 2 days before my 18th birthday, so I had to have a parent there with me. So I had to give testimony with my Dad sitting there listening to the whole thing (my mother didn't cope well at all - more about this happening to "*her* daughter" than actually happening to me if that makes sense?) which made it a million times harder and more humiliating. The man decided to defend himself rather than have a lawyer, so I had to endure him questioning me (through an interpreter) for about 20 minutes. The judge was quite deaf and probably past retirement age - I had to repeat myself 2 or 3 times each time I said anything. He was eventually sentanced to 9 years, but how much of that he would have served I don't know.
When I was 22 I told a wonderful man, now my husband, about this. We'd been at school together and had actually dated the year before it happened. Telling him and having him react in a positive way was very healing (before this I had been backpacking in various parts of the world - it was an excellent time, but very much caused by running away I think), we took it quite slowly and got married when we were 26. Wonderful years where 3 or 4 days would go by without me even thinking about it, and when it did pop into my mind I could simply dismiss it.
When I'd just turned 30 my son was born - all planned and very much looked forward to. Unfortunately his birth was very complicated, lasted days, and ended in an emergency caesarian. I didn't deal well with male doctors examining me, or with losing control of my own body at the end and the surgery. Rationally I should just have been happy to have a healthy son, but I was thrown right back into PTSD. I couldn't stop reliving his birth, and also the previous attack now so many years ago. I did ask for help, but was told that they rarely saw a mother and baby so well bonded, that I was coping and it was simply because my son had reflux and cried quite a bit, etc. So I left it and just went back to letting time do it's work while I lived in blackness and tried to get back to being happy. 2 years later (2 years ago now) my daughter was born and my greatest fear of another emergency caesarian came true - yet this time caused me no trauma fortunately (emotional anyway) and I continued getting better.
Then towards the end of last year, when I was really getting into a great place again, something completely random happened - on the evening news and attack in a suburb fairly closeby. Then 1 week later, a second, probably by the same man, and even closer to where we live. I became completely paranoid, couldn't concentrate, sleep, was fearful all the time, irritable and exploding over tiny things. The fact that my husband was going away with work a lot at the time (normal part of his job) didn't help. I worry a lot about the effect this will have on my kids - when having flashbacks I become very irritable when interupted, like I need to think it through. But it's normal for young children to want their mother. I try so hard to put them first, but at times hear myself asking for a bit of peace and quiet so I can think. For my family's sakes as much as my own I really owe it to all of us to get this sorted
So I decided to get help and went to my GP. He referred me to a psychologist and last week I had the first appointment. She told me to read about EMDR, and I'll see her again next week. Unfortunately she's then going away for 3 weeks (everyone deserves annual leave!) but then apparently we'll start work properly (unfortunately this coincides with my husband's next overseas trip - I suspect I have a bit of a rocky road ahead). Googling EMDR led me to this site, and reading some of the resources here has definitely been a help, if only for showing me that I'm not crazy.
One thing I'd like to know - once you've gone through EMDR therapy, is PTSD pretty much gone from your life? You'll still have the memories, but not the flashbacks and nightmares? Or could some future random event trigger it all again and you'll have to go through therapy again?
It's interesting how much easier it is to type this out and talk about it (which I really can't do and am quite fearful of the therapy despite definitely feeling I can trust this therapist even after only meeting her once).
Thanks to anyone who's managed to read through this whole essay. I'm looking forward to finally working through this and getting it behind me. Definitely time to start living a whole life again.
I typed this (or something like it) a couple of days ago, apparently it got lost in site maintenance, so sorry if you've read it before. Otherwise, good to meet you all. I've really found a lot of comfort reading things on this site.
When I was 17 I was attacked while out bushwalking (I'm 34 now). I probably should have sorted it then, but the therapist I tried at the time didn't suit me at all and I didn't continue trying.
The attack occured 4 days before I started my final year of high school, and the court case went on for most of that year - trying to get through all that was enough, which perhaps explains why I didn't seek help more agressively - I guess I just wanted to put it all behind me (as we all know, that doesn't work so well).
Anyway, I was out walking on forestry land near our farm. I didn't have my dog with me as I was on someone else's land. I turned up a dirt track, but had a bad feeling about it and after about 20 metres decided I should rather listen to the feeling and turned around - by then he was already running past the main dirt track I'd turned off. I stood completely still, hoping that if I didn't move he wouldn't see me, but he looked up just before completely passing the track I was on and saw me.
He was now between me and the safety of the tar road - probably about 2Km's away. I started walking toward safety (and him), hoping that being friendly would work - but it didn't. We couldn't really communicate as neither of us knew the other's language, but he didn't keep saying "fok jou" (fcuk you) and making it quite clear that that was what he literally wanted to do to me. When I said no and tried to walk past him he started holding me back and then started strangling me. After a bit I managed to get away and walk a bit further, but then he grabbed me and started strangling me again. And trying to kiss me. At one point he even offered me the small change in his pocket (enough maybe to buy a can of Coke) as if offering me the chance to be a prostitute or something. By the time I'd worked my way back down to the main dirt track each time he strangled me he'd get me down to the ground. It had been raining for most of the previous week and it was quite muddy and slippery (although sunny on this actual morning). It was hard to believe what was happening - set out on a nice walk to look for a waterfall and now all I can think is that I want to live, get home, see my family again.
I think each time he strangled me I got a bit weaker. In hindsight he'd probably never done this before or he probably would have just banged me over the head and got on with it. I considered the options of poking his eye or kicking him where it supposedly hurts most - but what if I only succeeded in angering him further and he just killed me there and then?
Anyway, I kept working my way towards the safety of the tar (bitumin?) road. We reached a junction where I could turn right towards the road - could actually see the cars going by in the distance (we'd probably only gone 50 metres from where I'd first met him), and he wanted me to turn to the left, I managed to understand enough that there was a hut up there somewhere which he wanted to take me to. I definitely knew I did not want to go to that hut.
He started getting angrier at this point - there was a slope down to a marshy creek, we sort of fought/stumbled down it and I nearly landed down the embankment in it. I felt that if I landed in it I wouldn't be coming out again alive. It's amazing how much can go through the mind in a split second of decision making. I knew that even if he got what he wanted, he might kill me afterwards. That he might let me live, but be HIV positive, and I'd die anyway (keep in mind, this was 1992 - my education on HIV might not have been complete, but I'm pretty sure anti-retorovirals were still a few years off). But I remember my Dad flashing through my mind, who I love dearly - I couldn't stand the thought of him finding me there, knowing what had happened and not being able to do anything about it, so I chose to live.
I leant away from the creek, knowing full well that he would land on top of me with all his weight. He did, I was completely winded. And he strangled me, and kept on, even when I tried to signal to him that it was ok. I think he must have continued till I was almost unconscious. When he stopped I felt sapped of a lot of my physical strength (lack of oxygen I suppose), but was still determined to live. The pain of what he did was insane, it was like it split me in two - my body in agony and screaming (I could hear myself, almost as if it was coming from someone lying next to me), but my brain was completely calm, calculating how to get out of this mess. It could have lasted an eternity, or a minute, I have no idea. But when he sat up he looked quite relaxed and pleased with himself. I didn't want to give him long enough to start wondering what do do with me, so while he was kneeling above me, redressing himself, I jumped up, pulled up my pants, and started running in one motion.
It was ages before I had the courage to look back and see if he was following me - when I eventually did he was nowhere to be seen, but I was too terrified of him reappearing to stop running. Next to the tar road I had to climb through a barbed wire fence and up to the road where I flagged down the first car which drove past at first, then came back for me. At that moment I realised how wild I must have looked - covered in mud, blood down my legs. They took me back to a motel just down the road (the manager was a family friend, my younger brother was fishing there waiting for me to get back from my walk).
I reported it, and he was caught. The court case through my final year of school was a nightmare. The day I had to go to court was 2 days before my 18th birthday, so I had to have a parent there with me. So I had to give testimony with my Dad sitting there listening to the whole thing (my mother didn't cope well at all - more about this happening to "*her* daughter" than actually happening to me if that makes sense?) which made it a million times harder and more humiliating. The man decided to defend himself rather than have a lawyer, so I had to endure him questioning me (through an interpreter) for about 20 minutes. The judge was quite deaf and probably past retirement age - I had to repeat myself 2 or 3 times each time I said anything. He was eventually sentanced to 9 years, but how much of that he would have served I don't know.
When I was 22 I told a wonderful man, now my husband, about this. We'd been at school together and had actually dated the year before it happened. Telling him and having him react in a positive way was very healing (before this I had been backpacking in various parts of the world - it was an excellent time, but very much caused by running away I think), we took it quite slowly and got married when we were 26. Wonderful years where 3 or 4 days would go by without me even thinking about it, and when it did pop into my mind I could simply dismiss it.
When I'd just turned 30 my son was born - all planned and very much looked forward to. Unfortunately his birth was very complicated, lasted days, and ended in an emergency caesarian. I didn't deal well with male doctors examining me, or with losing control of my own body at the end and the surgery. Rationally I should just have been happy to have a healthy son, but I was thrown right back into PTSD. I couldn't stop reliving his birth, and also the previous attack now so many years ago. I did ask for help, but was told that they rarely saw a mother and baby so well bonded, that I was coping and it was simply because my son had reflux and cried quite a bit, etc. So I left it and just went back to letting time do it's work while I lived in blackness and tried to get back to being happy. 2 years later (2 years ago now) my daughter was born and my greatest fear of another emergency caesarian came true - yet this time caused me no trauma fortunately (emotional anyway) and I continued getting better.
Then towards the end of last year, when I was really getting into a great place again, something completely random happened - on the evening news and attack in a suburb fairly closeby. Then 1 week later, a second, probably by the same man, and even closer to where we live. I became completely paranoid, couldn't concentrate, sleep, was fearful all the time, irritable and exploding over tiny things. The fact that my husband was going away with work a lot at the time (normal part of his job) didn't help. I worry a lot about the effect this will have on my kids - when having flashbacks I become very irritable when interupted, like I need to think it through. But it's normal for young children to want their mother. I try so hard to put them first, but at times hear myself asking for a bit of peace and quiet so I can think. For my family's sakes as much as my own I really owe it to all of us to get this sorted
So I decided to get help and went to my GP. He referred me to a psychologist and last week I had the first appointment. She told me to read about EMDR, and I'll see her again next week. Unfortunately she's then going away for 3 weeks (everyone deserves annual leave!) but then apparently we'll start work properly (unfortunately this coincides with my husband's next overseas trip - I suspect I have a bit of a rocky road ahead). Googling EMDR led me to this site, and reading some of the resources here has definitely been a help, if only for showing me that I'm not crazy.
One thing I'd like to know - once you've gone through EMDR therapy, is PTSD pretty much gone from your life? You'll still have the memories, but not the flashbacks and nightmares? Or could some future random event trigger it all again and you'll have to go through therapy again?
It's interesting how much easier it is to type this out and talk about it (which I really can't do and am quite fearful of the therapy despite definitely feeling I can trust this therapist even after only meeting her once).
Thanks to anyone who's managed to read through this whole essay. I'm looking forward to finally working through this and getting it behind me. Definitely time to start living a whole life again.
