Now That My Blog Has Become

fairly anticlimactic, I think I can quietly talk about what's been going on in my life lately. I used to write about my life in my blog here all the time. Then I guess I got the feeling after a while that my life should be better than what it is, that I really needed to start glossing over the rough parts. So I just stopped writing very intimately about what was happening to me, how I felt. I didn't lie about anything, I just stopped blogging about it altogether. I'm not really certain why either. Part of it was probably fear of greater exposure on the web, business, who knows.

But in the end, I've always been really the sincere sort. And I guess my feeling is that if I can't be "real" or honest, then what's the point. It's all fluff. My blog was never intended for art, it was intended for outlet. Then I used it for the latter and tried to turn it into the former when I got uncomfortable with the intimacy. Pretty much a macrocosm of the microcosm of every failed relationship I've ever had, actually. Pretty funny. Psych 101.

Anyway, so the deal is that I was sexually assaulted a couple of months ago. July 1st to be exact. In the early hours of July 1st. By a stupid junkie I was trying to help and had actually let have access to my house. And the entire thing was just so stupid. I... am so much the kind of person who isn't afraid of any guy. And this guy was small and actually, I worried more about him stealing from me than anything else. He asked me if I'd help him get into a particular rehab program since I used to be a social worker. He was having family problems with his daughter who had just come back from Iraq needing help - a lovely girl actually, and a son who wouldn't talk to him, and he said he wanted to get clean. To finally be there for his kids.

I needed some work done at the house and there were people who vouched for him, so I told him I'd help him get into the program but I threatened him with bodily harm if he stole anything from me. I knew him tangentially as an acquaintance of the guy I had just been dating.
Dylan was away with his dad so I was alone at the house and kind of missing him.

Anyway, a few days in, a bunch of my syringes that I use to inject my procrit turned up missing so I knew the guy was still using. There were some other things that happened that I was not ok with either. He'd made a pass at me a couple of times, and I said absolutely not. I was not even remotely interested in this guy. For all of the obvious reasons in addition to the fact that I didn't find him attractive.

Over the weekend I'd had to go to the ER with some type of back problem, I had an injection of demerol, and they gave me a bunch of hydrocodone which I took over the weekend. I could barely move my right leg because of pain in my hip. Apparently I have a lumbar disc issue but it rarely gets as bad as it was this last time. At any rate, I was medicated on Sunday night and noticed that this guy, whose name is Jimmy, was drunk. On alcohol from my house, no less. Which was annoying to me. I told him he needed to leave the next day. I also told him to stay away from me because he kept bumping into me and even just bumping my leg caused pain to shoot through it.

I should mention that at some point during the night, he brought me a couple of sodas, and once he insisted I take a drink of his drink and I did just to because he was being so annoying. He was drunk and holding it front of my face. Finally, I went to sleep, fully clothed. By the way, that's the way I slept the entire time he was at my house, fully clothed. I figured I'd deal with getting him out the next day when he was sober.

That night I woke up in the early hours of the morning. When I say "woke up" I mean barely attained consciousness, but he had my pants off and my bra undone and he was partially inside me. I yelled "what are you doing, get off of me, get out of my room," words to that effect. I think, but am not certain, that I may have been able to get my pants back on after he left. I was unable to do more than that before losing consciousness again.

I became conscious again, and he was back in my room. My pants were either still off or had again been removed and he had pulled me down to the end of the bed and he was performing oral sex on me. That is by far the most humiliating part of the entire assault, to me. I said basically the same thing I said before and he jumped up and left. I was able to get covered up and then passed out again. I think the only reason I attained consciousness at all was because it probably hurt me so badly to have my leg moved that it was enough to wake me. It's probably the only thing that saved me from a much more complete sexual assault. I was missing a large quantity of both xanax and librium the next day, from my purse, and I think I was dosed with either or both of those, probably the librium. I hardly ever take librium, and its just white powder in capsules. It would dissolve so easily. I'm lucky on a lot of levels. That he didn't overdose me. That I woke up and he didn't complete the first part of the assault and apparently wasn't able to ejaculate which would have exposed me to far more in terms of diseases, etc.