by Anonymous

I didn’t realize that I kind of left everything hanging. Sorry!

To those who wondered about my HIV PEP. It went swimmingly. (That’s not a vertigo joke either.) I’m still HIV negative. So- yay, go, team!

Clean clean. Vroom vroom. I’m positive I’m negative.

I’m still pretty OK mentally and emotionally overall regarding the whole drugging-and-raping thing.

I didn’t even finish my eight free counseling sessions. I went through seven of them before deciding that I was probably taking the place of someone who really needed therapy much, much more than I did. My counselor even said at the last session that she noticed that I was never really emotionally disturbed by what had happened to me. I don’t know if it is because I have no real memory of it (hard to be upset over something you can’t remember), or if it was because I was so pragmatic and proactive in my after-assault approach to everything that there was never any room for the emotions to come in.

Maybe it’s because of what I’ve said since the beginning- I’ve done this before and I’ve already dealt with it.

It’s not a pretty worldview, actually, it’s rather fucked up, but I’ve concluded that rape is just a fact of life for some women (and men). Some of us must just throw off victim pheromones that rapists just lock into as if they have RADAR (Rape-AR), because why else would some people continue to be victimized? It’s like the bad guys can just smell it. I know it totally sounds like a jaded person talking out her ass right now, but statistically this holds up. People who are molested or raped are more likely to be molested or raped. I guess I’m a card carrying member of this club. The least they could do is give us a discount somewhere. (Congratulations! You’re a member of the Rape Club. Please use this card to get 5% off on all your purchases!)

I’m not trying to make light of this phenomenon. My eyes have been opened wide to our rape culture. It is a fact of life. It’s wrong, but it’s true. Though, that’s not the purpose of this post. More than enough has been written about it so I won’t waste my words trying to rewrite what so many have already written (much better than I could ever) already.

Back to updating.

I did finally get my Victims’ Compensation: my ER visit, meds, and inoculations were covered…nearly eight months after the incident, just in time for Christmas! There was even some confusion as they first denied me because the SFPD claimed I didn’t report it until a month after my ER visit. Idiots. My formal report was a month later, but the incident was called in the day after. Still, they came through after the bureaucratic crap was straightened out.  I’m even covered for any “future” counseling I would need, should I ever need it. Just in case.

I gave up on ever trying to get the SFPD to do anything. I also gave up on having my supposed advocate in S.F. ever do anything on my behalf. Why? Because I reached a point last summer where I realized the only thread holding me back from moving forward was the anger and frustration, the indignation of injustice- of trying to get the SFPD to return my calls or review the security camera footage. Mentally, I was fine- I was never traumatized, I was never a huddled mass of tears, but I had a sense of “THE POLICE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING, EVEN IF JUST COLLECT EVIDENCE!” And I had to let it go.

So I did.

I realized- I DID EVERYTHING I WAS SUPPOSED TO DO. I reported the incident, I went to the E.R., I did HIV-PEP, I got hep B injections for six months after the fact, I got counseling as soon as it was available, I followed up with the bar and the police, I tried to get an advocate, I told other people… I did more than my part. I did more than I had to. I put all that effort into doing what a good little rape victim* is supposed to do after the fact, and if the police weren’t going to do their job, and the sexual assault advocate wasn’t going to do her job, then there was nothing more I could do to make them do their jobs for me. It was no longer worth the extra stress and mental strain holding onto that last piece. I made a deliberate choice to make one last phone call and leave one last message. So I did. Never got a call back. *does dusting off hands gesture* And that was it- I was done. Moving along now, nothing to see here.

Perhaps because of that rational, self-preservation decision, I never really came back to this blog. I continued to check in on the comments on the Truvada entry because I feel that I put this information out there and if people asked questions, then it was my responsibility to respond to them. It actually makes me happy (not happy that people have to take Truvada for any reason, but that’s not what I mean- but you know what I mean, right?) that people would search the internet looking for more information on HIV PEP or Truvada specifically and find my blog. Hell, I wanted to read something just like it the first week or so I was on the medication but there wasn’t anything out there from a first person perspective that also included the whys, hows, and whatnots. I tried my best. If other people have found it useful, then that makes me very satisfied that something positive did come out of my unfortunate experience.

I still intended to list the medications, tests, and shots I got in the ER and why I got them, and may do that at some point. Somewhere I still have that paperwork. All my “rape” documentation has since been shoved in a drawer. I could dig it out at some point, because I think that’s important information (again, something I wish I could have read the first week or so I was going through it myself), and I should write it. It needs to be written.

Most importantly, I still mean to get around to writing “What to do if you get raped.”

I will do it.

I just haven’t had the mindset. After I let go, I let everything go. Even the unwritten blog posts that may help someone else out there, somewhere, someday.

It is vital that someone write a “What to do if you get raped” instructional guide because frankly, it’s needed, and I hate to say it, but you can’t depend on rape crisis advocates, police, or medical professionals to give you accurate information. It doesn’t exist anywhere. Everyone has the best intentions. Believe me- no one ever intentionally lead me astray or told me something incorrect purposely- but that’s the frustration. At one point I was running in circles because I would go to one person who said I would have to talk to this agency, then I would talk to that agency only to be told, “Oh, no, we don’t do that here, you need to talk to Blah Blah Blah,” and of course I would go to Blah Blah Blah who in turn would tell me to go back to the organization of the first person. Madness. It’s a super fucked up reality when even the people who are in the goodhearted business of helping you out after a sexual assault can’t even give you decent information on where to turn next for your various issues. But it is what it is.

Anyway, so tonight, in about five and a half hours, it will be exactly one year after I got drugged.

At about 9:30 tomorrow morning, it will be exactly one year after I woke up naked, dazed, in an RV, with some guy I can’t identify fucking me from behind.

I still don’t know what happened in between. And I don’t care that I don’t know. I’m still really good with that.

So, this isn’t the last blog entry at all, but it might be the last blog entry for awhile. We’ll see. I’ll have to psyche myself up to write those last couple of necessary posts. Until then, keep your hands over your drinks, people, and keep your eyes on your friends!


*By the way, I loathe that term, “victim”. Though I don’t know what other word to use.