No title, my own work. Mixed media, oil pastels, dry pastels and water-colour pencils on sketch paper.
Today was another hard day, I saw a psychologist for part of the police report. The hospital is a short walk from where I live so under dark grey clouds swollen with rain the boyfriend and I walked to the hospital. I was feeling nervous, but thankfully he was being supportive and even though he said it was annoying to walk there just to wait for me to come out he came with me. I am good at French, but he is native and so much better, then there’s the issue of moral support. We walked past security without any problems, as in France all bags need looking at before going into certain areas. Shopping malls, hospitals and museums are some that come to mind. While walking over to the reception I found the papers from the police report that had the psychologist name on them. I asked the receptionist where I was going, sod’s law is that I knew the receptionist through work. It was nice to see her, but she was disappointed to hear I was no longer working with my old company. I told her I wanted to go back to what I did before but really that’s a whole other can of worms. She told me where we needed to go and off we went, with a good fifteen minutes to wait. I hope she didn’t see the bold rape on the top of the police report but then, there’s not much I can do if she did. The waiting room was decorated for children and to think it was the legal psychological department made me sad, although I am grateful and glad that it exists. The police for this area commonly send people down there when there has been some kind of attack. There was a giant teddy bear with his head flopped down on his chest, someone wearing a hospital uniform came in and corrected it saying the bear looked depressed. I laughed. The psychologist I was going to see came in and asked if I had the papers from the police report with me with me, she made a photocopy and came back for me. I asked if the boyfriend could come in and she said no. I followed her behind a locked door into a corridor and then into a nicely decorated office. She started by explaining that this was to try to prove the rape and any psychological damage that it may have caused. It’s part of the legal proceedings and weeds out false accusations by proving the trauma is real. There were two parts, one asking questions about me and my background and the other focusing on what happened.
First, she asked me about myself, my parents and their jobs. She wanted to know if I had a good childhood, my best memory. When she asked what my hobbies are I said oil painting, reading, knitting and the occasional sewing. She wanted to know if I had friends in France, I said I had a few but hesitated. She asked if I’d liked to have more friends to which I replied that I was happy with my friendship group. However, I avoid people and I’m not that comfortable with young adults. Thinking about it now that happened post-rape, I told her I’ve been wary of people since them. I was asked what I would wish for if I had one wish, I guess I would bring my dad back as he died when I was a teenager. When she asked what my worst memory was, I said the rape. She said it’s understandable and asked what my biggest fear was, I thought about it and I said people because it’s hard to know for sure of their intentions. She then had to ask if I had been raped before, I hadn’t. If I had been assaulted, but I have only had the groping incidents and following home that is sadly standard in the Parisian metro. Some of the questions were more awkward, such as how old I was when I first felt attracted to someone, as in a crush. I don’t really remember, I guess I must have been about 16. When I lost my virginity, which I do remember and how many people I have slept with. I said 5 but counting it up it’s probably a lot closer to 15. I did fail maths at GCSE level though. I was asked how many serious relationships I have had and if I was in one now, I said the boyfriend and I are going to get married in 2020. Then she wanted to know if I was okay sexually since the attack, I said most of the time. However, the boyfriend once grabbed the back of my neck and I freaked out. I didn’t tell her that I saw it all over again, just that I freaked out. I didn’t think to mention that I struggle with oral sex these days, I think I am ashamed he took that bit of me. She also asked what I wanted to achieve by reporting it, what I wanted the justice system to do. I don’t really know, honestly, I want it on the police records so that if he starts again then it’s already known. She said people like this usually do start again from what I had said to her and in the police report. She told me that this probably won’t get a trail. She also said he would probably be dragged in for similar questions and she said he treated me like an object. It would appear so, I hadn’t seen it before, but it would describe the situation well. I made sure I told her about his narcissistic tendencies without using the word narcist and how he lied to the other housemates and promised threesomes with two other housemates. I said it was around a week or two after the attack I started drinking, my insomnia had come back and that was how I was coping. I could sleep better like that.I was told not to suddenly stop drinking because it has a medical effect and is probably helping me somewhat. I explained that the alcohol is my off button, sometimes things just get too much, and I want to switch off. She gave me a list of phone numbers for psychologists and said I should see one, I am traumatised, and the trauma needs to be addressed. I am also depressed from the look of it. She said if I wasn’t on Ventolin there was something else they could do, I don’t know what as she didn’t even propose it. She said not all rapists are repeat offenders, some don’t know limits and carry on with a girlfriend then spend their lives regretting it because they don’t understand consent, others are repeat abusers and my attacker sounds like one.
The report that she will write will represent my case at trial if it gets that far, otherwise it will be kept by the police and if ever they need it they will have it. I should have phoned the emergency number the day of the attack and given the house a shitstorm when there was still DNA evidence. I wouldn’t have been forced into silence by Mrs Leroy then.
I came out tearful, it’s still raw. I think reporting it has ripped open the scar and it will take a long time to heal back up. The boyfriend and I left the hospital, he reassured me that with him I was safe, and it would never happen again. I hope so. We had a walk around the shopping mall then went home. He’s now back to playing video games and I am back to writing while he thinks I play The Sims 4.