Well my friends, today is the first step to some real closure.
I made the decision a few months ago, having boarded a bus and been trapped on the top floor sat a few seats away from the man who attacked me 7 years ago, that I wasn't going to live with it in my life anymore.
Rape is a strange thing, as we all deal with it in different ways. Denial. Acceptance. Suppression. Repression and outright fantasy living.
I have lived all of these. The day I was raped (so strange to be so forthright and direct, but I find it eases the process, apologies if the bluntness offends in any way) was Friday 13th 2006.
Saturday 14th 2006 was the day denial began. With blood and bruises a plenty, I chose to ignore what had happened, got on the train back to University and carried on as normal.
I drank. More than I have ever drunk in my life. All of the time. SO much money, but I didn't know what else to do to make it go away. I drank so much I ended up in hospital, having collapsed in pain.
The doctors asked me if I knew I was pregnant and I thought my head was going to explode.
There is only so far denial can take you...but pregnancy in gay woman, is something you can't quite ignore any longer. I didn't cry. I just looked the doctor in the eye and said "How do I go about getting an abortion, can I get it done here" my only instinct is that I wanted all reminders of that night out, away, destroyed, as far away from me as humanly possible.
My GP in Aberystwyth was incredible, he held my hand, listened to my story, made me promise I would have some therapy and he agreed to arrange an abortion, the only problem was that I would have to wait. It was the longest wait of my life. By the time I had my abortion I was nearly 3 months pregnant. I sat in the hospital office waiting for my scan to date the pregnancy and decide what the best option was. The doctor left the room for 5 minutes without realizing she had left the photo of the scan on her desk. It's all I could look at. I felt sick. I felt guilty. I felt angry.
I was 19. It was an abortion that went wrong from the get-go, ended in surgery and left me with an uncertain future as to whether I can have children. When I was 19 it didn't hit me like it does now. Now I'm 27 and we are talking to my GP about babies, IVF, what our options are, if we have any.
From being a lost little girl, all I've ever wanted is to fall in love, be loved, get married and have babies. Have a family to call my own. To love another human with all my heart and to know that I will be a great mother. To know that may not be my future, breaks my heart. And so, there is anger.
I got on that bus a few months ago and the man that destroyed me sat there and he winked. He winked at me, he licked his lips and he winked at Sarah.
I got off that bus and went to a business meeting with my head so far up my arse I didn't know if I was coming or I was going. I was on auto-pilot, it was a great bloody meeting and I felt proud that I didn't let it destroy another day.
I decided it was time to face the music, to talk to my lawyer and find a way to bring some justice.
That's what we have been doing for the past few months, working, researching, statements, medical records, recounting horrible details, but liberating myself with every word spoken.
I wish I could have been so brave back then, maybe then the damage wouldn't have seeped so far into my life and I wouldn't have run off into fantasy land where lies were first nature and not second. I wish I had punished him the way he deserved it and I worry that because I didn't, there are other girls who suffered the same fate. How many were left pregnant and with an STD and happened to be gay, well I'm not so sure, but jesus, I should have protected them all the same.
When Sarah was attacked in Piccadilly Gardens, I went into fight mode, I couldn't let what happened to me happen to her, I pulled that fucker off her and pinned him until the Police took him away. I thought we were getting justice, I thought I was making up for lost time, but he walked free as a bird out of a court room and she was left with nightmares and a £150 compensation cheque for an attempted rape.
I think the point of this blog is, it's never too late. If you have something you need to say, if you have something you need to share, then share it, speak it, free it.
Save yourself the hassle of eroding mental health and get talking!!!
I've been broken for a long time, not quite right from the start and in many ways, I think what happened in 2006 compounded all that I thought was wrong with me. I lie awake at night and sometimes wonder - is it me? Because I can't process the fact that as a child, I was a plaything for perverts and as student, I ended up with the same fate.
I wonder how Sarah loves me when my life and my body are so tainted, that these horrible things have happened to me, how will she love me, how will she touch me, knowing whats been before.
The past can be toxic. Don't let it.
I'm Francesca Barker my friends, you beautiful people, you have been my salvation, allowing me to be me, taking my sweet time on this journey of self discovery, my god, I'm far from perfect, but I am on my way to happiness and sharing my thoughts with you has helped me find the good in the world and in myself.
And on that hippy note, Happy Halloween everyone - there is one less monster on the streets tonight, if you are out and about and getting a little bit merry, be careful and stay safe xx
Friday 31 October 2014
Monday 6 October 2014
24 hours in Police custody......?
This is the second time I have watched this TV show on channel 4, and each time, I've had this horrible feeling in my stomach.
It's like watching history repeat itself....people being processed in the station, having their property taken off them, going through the motions.
It's not a motion I was ever intending to go through.
The day I walked into that police station was the bravest and most cowardly I could have been all rolled into one. I knew I had to go, I knew I had to tell the truth and make it right, so I did but my god it was hard - the cowardly part was not knowing if I had the balls to walk into that station and up to the glass to tell them I was there to talk. But I did it. And as backwards as it is, it was the best decision of my life, everything I had done, every lie I ever told, every person I may have hurt along the way, it lead me there... and now I'm watching this TV show and I feel guilt, it's the guilt that tries to take over.
I feel guilty. Every day. I wake up in my bed, with my other half, and for the seconds before she wakes up too, I look at her and wonder how we still manage to fall asleep wrapped up in one another after all that I've done. It's love. Or she needs carting off!
I lie awake at night and I wonder, if it could have been different, if I could have been different and stopped the destructive bullshit in it's tracks before it took years of my life and sough to do the same of others.
I've been broken for such a long time, I don't think I know how to deal with feeling this brutal honesty, it's one thing walking into a police station and holding your hands up to the things you've done and wanting to make it right and its a chance of fate when you get to walk out of courtroom and seize a second chance - but how do I honour it?
The day I went to the police station, I didn't know what to expect and I felt like every second I was there, I deserved it. I had been toying with my conscience for so long, it felt like I belonged there, that they should shut me in that cell and throw away the key, because that was the only way to keep everyone safe, from me. They did put me in a cell and I've never felt more alone and more disgusted with myself in my entire life.
They took my shoe laces, my earrings and then made me give them my engagement ring and I cried, like a little girl, in the middle of the processing area, I cried.
I gave it to them, they put it in a little brown envelope and wrote my case number on it; not my name... they took me into a room to be fingerprinted, photographed, and I sat there, tracing my star shaped tattoo, the same tattoo Sarah has, we match, and I felt sick, black lines etched in my skin was all I had whilst in there and I didn't even deserve to share it with her. I traced it so hard I thought I'd scratch it off. I was so angry with myself.
They drugs tested me - game over, positive for cocaine. Well that was that, they thought they had it all wrapped up, bad druggie posh girl living a life she can't afford, a PC all ready to question me in interview and I stopped him before he could begin. I said "Let me talk and tell you everything I need to, and if there's anything I've missed out, ask me then"
And I talked, and talked, and cried, and apologised and asked how to make it right. The lady police woman who was in the room with me reached out and held my hand and said "you did the right thing, in the end, that will count"
I got bail. Bail that went on for months, it was practically house arrest, not allowed to stay anywhere aside from my fixed address, not even for one night, extensive drug rehabilitation, immediately.
It's not where I expected to be at the age of 25. It's not where I was designed to be. But I suppose thats exactly why I ended up there, because I've never had a clue as to how to be what I'm supposed to be.
I have battled demons and memories trapped inside my head, I've battled rape and drug addiction and homelessness.
I have slept on concrete floors in mouse ridden warehouses in London, doing things of nightmares to survive.
I have been to University, I have ski-ed in France, Austria, Italy and Canada. This life is insanity and I don't know how I got here.
I can't take my eyes off this television program. People in cells, all over the country, trying to escape their fate. Does anyone reach the point of brutal honesty? Where theres no more running, no more hiding, no more lying, no more excuses?
I have based this second chance on honesty, because otherwise, theres no hope. It has to be real this time, it has to be me, it has to be great.
I have worked my socks off to get here and I've never felt so proud. I have found my purpose. I have found my heart and this life, it works for me.
Then there is the guilt, it creeps in, in the day and in the night, it hurts and lingers.
Positives over negatives is the only way to cleanse this soul, to work hard at rebuilding my life, to repair my burnt bridges and find a way back.
Nothing is insurmountable. I'm 27 years old, I've lived a hundred lifetimes and more. But I am the luckiest girl in the whole world to be able to wake up each day, in a warm bed, with a fiance and a cat. I climb out of bed, feet on the cold wood floors, to put the kettle on, start the day, and what could be better than that?
If success is measure by happiness, then I'm well on my way.
Don't ever give up.
It's like watching history repeat itself....people being processed in the station, having their property taken off them, going through the motions.
It's not a motion I was ever intending to go through.
The day I walked into that police station was the bravest and most cowardly I could have been all rolled into one. I knew I had to go, I knew I had to tell the truth and make it right, so I did but my god it was hard - the cowardly part was not knowing if I had the balls to walk into that station and up to the glass to tell them I was there to talk. But I did it. And as backwards as it is, it was the best decision of my life, everything I had done, every lie I ever told, every person I may have hurt along the way, it lead me there... and now I'm watching this TV show and I feel guilt, it's the guilt that tries to take over.
I feel guilty. Every day. I wake up in my bed, with my other half, and for the seconds before she wakes up too, I look at her and wonder how we still manage to fall asleep wrapped up in one another after all that I've done. It's love. Or she needs carting off!
I lie awake at night and I wonder, if it could have been different, if I could have been different and stopped the destructive bullshit in it's tracks before it took years of my life and sough to do the same of others.
I've been broken for such a long time, I don't think I know how to deal with feeling this brutal honesty, it's one thing walking into a police station and holding your hands up to the things you've done and wanting to make it right and its a chance of fate when you get to walk out of courtroom and seize a second chance - but how do I honour it?
The day I went to the police station, I didn't know what to expect and I felt like every second I was there, I deserved it. I had been toying with my conscience for so long, it felt like I belonged there, that they should shut me in that cell and throw away the key, because that was the only way to keep everyone safe, from me. They did put me in a cell and I've never felt more alone and more disgusted with myself in my entire life.
They took my shoe laces, my earrings and then made me give them my engagement ring and I cried, like a little girl, in the middle of the processing area, I cried.
I gave it to them, they put it in a little brown envelope and wrote my case number on it; not my name... they took me into a room to be fingerprinted, photographed, and I sat there, tracing my star shaped tattoo, the same tattoo Sarah has, we match, and I felt sick, black lines etched in my skin was all I had whilst in there and I didn't even deserve to share it with her. I traced it so hard I thought I'd scratch it off. I was so angry with myself.
They drugs tested me - game over, positive for cocaine. Well that was that, they thought they had it all wrapped up, bad druggie posh girl living a life she can't afford, a PC all ready to question me in interview and I stopped him before he could begin. I said "Let me talk and tell you everything I need to, and if there's anything I've missed out, ask me then"
And I talked, and talked, and cried, and apologised and asked how to make it right. The lady police woman who was in the room with me reached out and held my hand and said "you did the right thing, in the end, that will count"
I got bail. Bail that went on for months, it was practically house arrest, not allowed to stay anywhere aside from my fixed address, not even for one night, extensive drug rehabilitation, immediately.
It's not where I expected to be at the age of 25. It's not where I was designed to be. But I suppose thats exactly why I ended up there, because I've never had a clue as to how to be what I'm supposed to be.
I have battled demons and memories trapped inside my head, I've battled rape and drug addiction and homelessness.
I have slept on concrete floors in mouse ridden warehouses in London, doing things of nightmares to survive.
I have been to University, I have ski-ed in France, Austria, Italy and Canada. This life is insanity and I don't know how I got here.
I can't take my eyes off this television program. People in cells, all over the country, trying to escape their fate. Does anyone reach the point of brutal honesty? Where theres no more running, no more hiding, no more lying, no more excuses?
I have based this second chance on honesty, because otherwise, theres no hope. It has to be real this time, it has to be me, it has to be great.
I have worked my socks off to get here and I've never felt so proud. I have found my purpose. I have found my heart and this life, it works for me.
Then there is the guilt, it creeps in, in the day and in the night, it hurts and lingers.
Positives over negatives is the only way to cleanse this soul, to work hard at rebuilding my life, to repair my burnt bridges and find a way back.
Nothing is insurmountable. I'm 27 years old, I've lived a hundred lifetimes and more. But I am the luckiest girl in the whole world to be able to wake up each day, in a warm bed, with a fiance and a cat. I climb out of bed, feet on the cold wood floors, to put the kettle on, start the day, and what could be better than that?
If success is measure by happiness, then I'm well on my way.
Don't ever give up.
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