The Ugly Truth
18. Jan, 2010 
7 Comments
Yeah, I know everyone is VERY disappointed that this blog has no lame picture of me and no catchy title, but for once in my life, I feel it’s time to be serious (okay, maybe this will be the second time …. but who’s counting?). Why I’ve decided to write this blog still bewilders me but I’ve finally hit a point where I’ve realized it had to be done. I’m here to talk about something that many people do not like talking about…. and that when it is discussed… they believe it’s just something rare and “won’t happen to me.”
That was my belief too.
Anyone notice how you are still reading and yet you still have no idea what I am talking about? This isn’t easy for me, for sure, but I gotta keep telling my fingers to keep going.
It was a cold winter day in the middle of February in 2006. (Gotta make it more dramatic here… it might have been warm, but cold seems right for February in Canada). Anyways, I sat in residence, filled with anxiety over my upcoming Psychology exam. The anxiety was so prominent that I was I felt sleep was not necessary, so I followed our open-door policy and waited in anticipation for someone to walk by to take my mind off Freud and Jung.
My wish was answered… sort of.
Around 2:15 in the morning two guys approached my door. (And much to my excitement…they were cute too!) They were looking for lemons for their tequila. Now at this point, I’m wondering… who drinks on a Wednesday night in the wee hours of the morning, but heck, I politely indicate that I don’t have any lemons…but I do have oranges. (This is first year of university and at this point I had lived a very sheltered life at this point where the whole-tequila-lemon-salt-thing I never understood).
As they had previously been drinking they accepted the oranges (or maybe they didn’t know the difference either). Regardless, they came into my room to eat our little citrus friend. Excited over my luck, I wanted to prove to my friends my good fortune so I took a picture of my new friends, added them to MSN and laughed at their jokes.
After a few minutes they left and I went back to my studying (who needs sleep?!).
A few minutes later, they re-entered my room and asked to use the washroom (I was living in suites where we shared a washroom with our neighbour) I thought it was weird that they wanted to pee together, but heck, to each their own. But here is where things get hazy, as I remember hearing the lock of my suitemate’s bathroom door, then them reappearing while they locked the front door. Then just approached me.
Why I was still thinking I was lucky, I had no idea.
One of them started trying to tell another joke and calmly put his arm around me. Then things got worse.
Much worse.
Much, Much worse.
Much, Much, Much worse.
I’m still trying to piece everything together. I’ve blacked out the experience. It’s been four years but I still have a hard time putting the puzzle together. I remember them holding me down; I remember being robbed of everything. I remember the pain. I remember the screaming and no one coming. I remember being alone.
I remember thinking I was going to die.
I remember wishing I could die.
Details aren’t necessary. I’ll allow your imagination piece together what happened.
After all was said and done I entered the shower hoping to rid myself of the whole experience. But no amount of soap, shampoo, or body wash would make me feel clean. It was the first time in my life where I’ve doubted God. I felt so many emotions.
I was angry.
I was sad.
But most of all…I was scared.
Why am I telling you all of this? I don’t know. I REALLY don’t know. When I first told my best friends, they looked at me with pity and empathy. That’s not what I want. I am not telling you this because I want someone to help me, pity me, or try to say something to make me feel temporary better. Nor is it just solely the fact that I feel the general public should know the truth that it does happen to more people than one realizes.
But that aspect is essential. That it happens to more people than we realize. Therefore, it makes me realize that there must be someone out there feeling very similar emotions. For this reason, I want you to know that you are not alone. As horrible as it sounds, to know that someone out there has felt my pain kills me but also makes me strong as well.
I have a lot of regrets about the whole experience… blocking everyone out afterwards, letting the whole experience consume me, not telling authorities about the fact…. and more importantly…. Not sharing the experience with others.
For that reason, at least I can remove one regret from the list.
If you have made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my story. And if you have felt any similar pains…. I hope you know one thing…. You’re not alone.
About The Author
Melissa,
You are so right that this occurs way too often. The fact I wrote this (and left it up) still shocks me today.
I appreciate your kinds words, so very much, thanks for being there as well.
I have known about this for some time now and I think its really brave of you to tell the whole blogasphere about your experience. This does happen way, way WAY too often, especially to university students. Many young girls go to university not knowing the proper precautions to take so that something like this doesn’t happen to them. You writing one little blog might change someone’s life because they read it and keep it in mind when they go away to university.
Even if you think writing this blog was pointless, it wasn’t…you have made a difference. For yourself and for many others.
Sniff… Sniff… no words necessarily after that one.
April, as your friend, and your boyfriend, I think there is also something that people should know. I have seen your friends (including myself) trying to help you through this and the affect it has on them. One doesn’t realize the impact it has on the people that care as well. But I know how strong you are and that strength seems to get passed on to those around you. And I do hope through this blog others will get the strength to break their silence also.
Dave & Renante.
Thanks for thinking this was an act of braveness and for your support.
I do hope others will be able to break their silence.
However, who knows if the blog is the best way. This was my effort to cope too… so it’s not necessarily bravery. Just a hope for a change.
If anyone wishes to talk, but not necessarily through here… search for me through Facebook or email me @ adwhitzman@mta.ca
Best Wishes to Everyone and thanks again.
Things like these happen way too often, and more often go unreported. By posting this blog, you have set an example and hopefully have inspired others to break their silence.
I understand that it takes a lot of strength to be able to talk about this. Thank you for sharing this experience with us April. It was very brave of you.
I’m very sorry to hear that you had to experience that. I’ve only known one other person who’s had to go through that, and I don’t envy it in the least. Good on you for being brave enough to share your story.