Put that damn rock down....

I went to see my therapist yesterday.....

It was a good meeting and we discussed food, food addiction and the causes of said addiction. I told her that I remember very clearly what lead to my addiction to food. There were two "incidents" in my life that occurred within a couple of years of one another that changed everything for me.

It has been so painful for me to talk about these two incidents, that I have told virtually no one in my personal life about it, save my ex husband and Daddy. It was even hard for me to tell my therapist and I kept circling around and around until I finally got the words out.

And so, today, on the recommendation of my therapist, is the day I stop carrying this burden with me. Today is the day I set it down and walk away. I have carried it for far too long. It is time.

This is Therapeutic Letter #1. I have two others to write....

Dear Pilot Assohole,

I have no idea what your real name is. It has been many years since I have seen your face but the memories of what happened that night have never left me. I carry the fear and self loathing with me on a daily basis. I honestly probably couldn't even pick you out of a line up now, but the memories of your actions are clear and crisp.

We met at an Anniversary party for your flight school. I was there with my cousin, who was going out with one of the other pilots. You were so handsome and charming and so much older and wiser than I was. I was just a kid, only 17 yrs old. You were 29 and must of seen me coming a mile away, with my smiling face and wide eyes.

It was an exciting night for me, I had never been to such a party before. I was only 17 and my party experience was mostly relegated to sneaking a few drinks in someone's basement while their parents were out.

But here there were pilots EVERYWHERE in their handsome uniforms. Pilots and music and drinking and girls.

Someone introduced us, I can't even remember who but you latched right onto me. You started buying me drinks. No one had ever bought me drinks before. I wasn't even legally allowed to drink for another 2 years. But it was so exciting, an older man buying me drinks...and a pilot on top of it. I felt so mature and desirable. It was a heady mixture.

As the night went on, you bought me drinks and brought me around and introduced me to all your old pilot buddies. You even introduced me to several of your colleagues as your "wife". I still don't understand that one. You kept telling me how "mature" I was.

We left the party and went to a club with several other pilots and their girlfriends. You got me in the club even though I was too young to get in. You KNEW how old I was. It wasn't a surprise. You KNEW I was 17.

You continued to buy me drinks and then an hour later decided to take me back to the flight school barracks. I could barely stand and almost threw up in the cab. I had never drank this much before. The cab driver kept looking back and saying "She's not going to throw up is she?" and you kept reassuring him that I was fine.

I was not fine.

I was completely loaded and sick to my stomach.

We arrived back at the barracks. It was dark. There wasn't a soul there. Everyone was still at the party. The barracks were far from any civilization. There was only the barracks, the airstrip and the parking lot. We were in the middle of nowhere and I was alone and drunk in a dark building with a complete stranger. I started to feel afraid. It was a fear that was strong enough to permeate through the alcohol haze and I told you that I wanted to leave. My sense of self preservation was telling me that this wasn't a good idea.

You half drug me into one of the rooms and told me that we were "just going to lay down for a minute".

You fucking liar. You piece of shit liar. You lied to me. You pumped me full of alcohol all night. You knew I was just a kid.

I am so angry. So angry and so sad.

You pulled my pants down and shoved me onto one of the beds. I was terrified. I couldn't even move. You took your pants off and threw them on the floor. Then you got on top of me in the small barrack bed. The room smelled musty and the moonlight was coming through one of the windows. I'm not sure why I still remember that particular detail. I was just so detached from what was going on. Almost like it wasn't happening, like a horrible dream.

You started to kiss me, but it wasn't normal kissing. It was aggressive and hard. You mashed your lips and teeth against mine. I told you that it hurt, but you seemed to like that. Then you started to bite me. The more I said "No, I don't want to do this, I really have to go my cousin will be worried", the harder you bit me. You bit my cheeks, my lips, my chin. You were hurting me.

I wanted to hit you, to punch your lights out but I was terrified. I knew you were going to rape me but I was worried that if I fought back that you would kill me. You were so aggressive when I resisted in any way, so I just laid there like a ragdoll but you continued to bite me, my lips and face and then you put your forearm across my throat and pushed down. Your hands were everywhere, my breasts, down my panties, fingering my pussy and grabbing my ass.

My mind was racing, trying to figure out how to escape, when the words squeaked out as you were choking me "I have to pee"

"I have to pee", it's all I could think of. That was my one great strategy to save myself from this nightmare.

You told me to "hold it" but I said that I really had to go, that I had too much to drink and would pee my pants if I didn't go to the bathroom. I said that I would "be right back" and that we would "Fuck when I got back, I promise".

You seemed to like those words and let me go, but not before you said "Fine, but hurry the fuck up" and then bit me so hard on my bicep that you broke the skin on both the top and bottom from your teeth sinking into my arm. I still remember which arm, it was my left arm. I will never forget it for as long as I live. I didn't even know that human teeth could bite through skin but now I have experienced it firsthand. It burned like horrible fire and then you rolled over and let me up.

I leaned over the bed, looking for my shoes in the dark. I was in a panic, in terror mode. I couldn't even cry. It was then when I felt your pants, tossed on the floor.

You had a big wad of cash in your pocket. You kept flashing it all night whenever you would take it out to pay for drinks. Mr fucking big shot. Coming back to your flight school's anniversary party with an airline job, a "wife" and lots of cash. Liar.Bastard liar.

I knew that I had no money left and we were in the middle of nowhere, so my brain, like lighting, told me "Take the money, NOW, before he notices that it's taking you too long to put your shoes on" and so, I thrust my hand into your pants pocket and grabbed a big wad of cash.

I got up, pulled up my pants and said "I'll be right back". I calmly walked out of the room and shut the door quietly. Then I ran like a bat out of hell down the hall. There were auxilliary lights on in the hallway and I could make out a public phone hanging on the wall at the end of the long corridor. I sprinted down that hall, like a deer, like my life depended on it. I was terrified that any second I would feel your hands on me, terrified that you were right behind me. I swore that I could feel your breath breathing down my neck but I was alone in the dark hallway.

I reached the phone and called a cab. Why did I not call the police? I still don't know, even to this day. All I know is that I was traumatized. I just wanted to get away from you, not hang around for the police and then have to give a statement. I just wanted to go put as much distance in between us as possible. But I should of called the police god dammit. I fucking should of for what you did to me. I was only 17 and you were a grown man. I was so afraid. I felt ashamed, like the entire thing was my fault because I was only 17 and thought that I would be in trouble for drinking underage.

But, I will never forget the woman's voice that answered the phone for the cab company, it was like a lifeline through the horror of what had taken place in the barracks. I started crying and she asked me if I was "okay". I whispered "no" and could the cab please get there "as soon as possible?". I kept peering through that darkness down the hall as I whispered into the phone, afraid that you were coming after me. It was like a horror movie.

I hung up the phone quietly and crept over to the door and opened it as quietly as I could. It was so dark outside, with only a lone light in the parking lot. I didn't know what to do. All you had to do was open the door and you would see me standing outside and then god only knows what would of happened.

I ran to the back side of the building. I crouched down and hid. I prayed that you wouldn't come out to look for me. I prayed that there wasn't a back door that you could exit and come up behind me in the dark.

But you did come out to look for me, you bastard, you did come out. I sat there, crouched against the building, when I heard the door to the barracks creak open...

"Where are you, you fucking bitch?"

I think my heart actually stopped. I was literally frozen solid. I could not move.

I figured this was it, because where else was there for me to hide? We were in the middle of nowhere, the barracks building was the only thing on the property. I knew that as soon as you turned the corner, that you would find me crouching against the building.

And just as you walked outside and slammed the door behind you, a miracle happened.....a true miracle.

A car, full of pilots, pulled up the driveway to the barracks and got out. They were liquored up and jovial. They were laughing and talking as they crossed the parking lot and walked towards the barracks. They surrounded you and started talking and asking "Where the fuck did you run off to?". I could hear him ask angrily if any of them had "seen that bitch I was with?".

About 60 seconds later, the cab pulled up the barracks driveway and I ran from the side of the building to the cab like my life depended on it. I got in, slammed the door and screamed "Drive, drive, drive".

The cabbie seemed taken aback at a screaming, sobbing girl in his car but pulled out of the driveway just the same and took off. He kept asking if I needed help but I said no. I was offered help again, for the second time that night, and I didn't take it. My head was just so screwed up.

I got him to drop me off at a friend's house. I just couldn't go home and face my parents. I didn't even tell my friend what had happened. I didn't tell anyone, I kept quiet and suffered in silence for years. It wasn't until I got married years later and finally told my now ex husband about what had happened to me. And he didn't understand anyway, I almost wish I hadn't of told him. He never understood why I was afraid of men. Ever. He never got it. It pissed me off to no end that I went though something so traumatic and then to have the courage to finally tell someone years later and to get a reaction like that just killed me. I never told another person for 12 more years until I met Daddy.

And so now, what ended up happening after I left in the cab?.....

The wad of cash that I grabbed from that asshole's pocket had almost $400 in it. It was a lot of money to an 17 yr old. I went out and bought a stereo with the money but I always felt emotionally bad about it. I'm surprised my parents never questioned me about it more and where the money came from. The stereo was a constant reminder of that night and it sat in my room for years. But it never made up for what he did to me. There could of been $1000 in there and it wouldn't have made it any better.

The money is long gone now, but the memories of that night have stuck with me my whole adult life. The bite marks and bruises he put on my body took months to go away, especially the one on my arm. I had teeth marks and scratches on my face and scratch marks on my lips from where he bit me.

I told my parents I fell off my bike and wore long sleeved shirts for a long time. There was no way they'd believe the puncture marks and bruises on my arm came from a "bike accident".

I heard through the grapevine a few days after this incident that this pilot was "looking" for me. Apparently, he scoured the party guests the day after, telling people that I had stolen his wallet and his driver's license. Fucking liar. How about you tried to rape me and I stole your money, that's more like it.

I lived in fear for months afterwards, fearful that someone would tell him where I lived, or give him my phone number, etc. I actually did see him two months after the assault. It was in a parking lot. I was going to see a movie with some friends and we walked by him in the parking lot. I started freaking out because he stopped, turned around and watched us walk towards the movie theatre. I guess he was intimidated to approach me when I was surrounded by other people but I was so physically sick to my stomach that I had to go home.

This "thing" that happened has affected me for so many years, in so many different ways. I was never able to label it, until yesterday when my therapist called it "sexual assault". I have shied away from those words for years but she is 100% correct.

I was sexually assaulted.

I was 17 yrs old and was sexually assaulted by an older man who took advantage of me. You hear that, you fucking cock sucker? You sexually assaulted me. I have been afraid of men my entire adult life and it all started with you. YOU. You have done this to me. This has been one of the defining moments in my life. I started out that evening as one person and arrived home another.

Last year, at Halloween, Daddy and I went to a Halloween haunted house thing. It cost $50 for us to go and I was so excited to be there. It was meant to be scary and fun, there were actors dressed up as scary characters and it was their job to scare you. This one particular maze we walked through seemed okay, until I happened to turn around and saw this tall actor dressed up as "Jason" from "Friday the 13th" was directly behind me and had been following me through the maze the entire time. I started screaming and running as he put his hands out to grab me. I ran past Daddy and shoved him out of the way and started screaming and scrambling hysterically for the door. I cried like a baby when we got outside the maze and we actually had to leave and go home. I never told Daddy but I cried because that was the same feeling of terror I had when I ran down that corridor of the barracks, just trying to reach the phone before that cocksucker grabbed me and hurt me again.

I am still afraid of men, that has never changed. I feel vulnerable and fearful around them. I get scared when I am alone around strange men. The other day a strange man walked up the street, alone at night, towards my recreation property where I was camping with my kids. After a strange, brief exchange with him, I became so freaked out and fearful that I had to pack up and go back home to the safety of my home with Daddy. It has been several days but I still cannot stop thinking about that particular exchange. It made me feel vulnerable and so afraid. I feel that I am not able to defend myself. That I cannot be counted on the protect myself or my children if anything were to happen. And all because of this sexual assault that happened when I was 17 yrs old. I couldn't protect myself then, all I could muster up was "I have to go to the bathroom" and thank god that saved me but I feel such anger, even after all these years that I couldn't fight back, that I couldn't defend myself, that I was just frozen.

Don't say that I should have taken self defense, because I had previously studied judo and taekwondo. I had taken self defense classes with a bunch of RCMP officers. I should have know how to do something, but when it came down to crunch time, I did nothing at all. I was over powered by a grown man when I was 17 and I feel so powerless, even to this day.

This letter writing has been a painful process for me. I have cried almost the entire time I've been writing this. But it is good because I have never really sat down and just cried about it before. I have always buried the feelings and never talked about it. I have always felt such shame, so much shame. I have always felt that I was at fault somehow, but I know now that it was NOT MY FAULT. I was an 17 yr old kid. Just a stupid kid, who fell victim to a grown man.

I forgive you, 17 year old girl. It wasn't your fault and it's time to stop carrying this burden with you. It's time to put it down and walk away......