I think its triggering everyone who's been through sexual assault. I've been on DS since January (because my daughter was sexually abused by her father almost 5 years ago but I have PTSD from the events that unfolded after the discovery. I have custody of her and she's safe.) but just found this group today.

The Brock Turner case is reliving my own rape as well as all the sexual abuse I endured in my first marriage. It's really terrible to feel this way but I envy that she was found in the middle of the act and it was stopped. There was no waking up alone the next day with fragments of memories and soiled clothes. No showering for an hour because she felt filthy only to find out that was the wrong thing to do and evidence would be hard to collect. There was no woman detective there telling her that because she was wearing a short skirt and drinking (underage- 20) that it would be hard to prove she didnt want sex and only regretted it after. No detective refusing to question the perp. No husband and their family not believing her. No refusing the morning after pill on moral principle to be told by her husband that if she was pregnant from it, he was leaving her. No guilt or shame from the man supposed to love and protect her, but instead blamed her.

My ex was in the next room at the time it happened to me. It was his coworker that he invited over, that brought the alcohol. His coworker that kept giving us both more. It was him that sent me to the gas station to get cigarettes for him with his co-worker. It was his coworker that pulled his penis out in the hallway and I told to put it back before he got hurt. It was his offer of lubrication for his coworker the jerk off earlier in the evening. It was him passed out on the couch and unable to wake up when I returned from the gas station.

But it was ME that his co worker asked for the lubrication. It was ME that stupidly went into the bedroom to get it. It was ME that he quietly follow into the bedroom. It was ME that blacked in and out of consciousness, drunk on the floor. It's MY memories where I'm sitting straight up with him on top of me trying to shout my ex's name and only able to say it three times before falling back down and blacking out again.

I remember him picking me up when he was done, leaning me against a wall and kissing all over me. I remember him saying he would be back again, that I was too much fun. I remember lastly, him insisting I go to the bathroom. He said it over and over. "You need to go pee and then go lay down. Go pee and go lay down. Do it now. Go clean up and go lay down." And I did.

I woke up the next afternoon trying desperately to remember what happened the night before. And it didn't come all at once. It came in bits and fragments over a few hours, between the blinding headache and the upset stomach. I was not a drinker. My body was not used to alcohol at all and I had drink a fifth of apple pucker like it was apple juice.

I called my ex and told him I thought I cheated on him. I remembered that his coworker had sex with me. I didnt remember calling out for my ex until later that day. Bits and peices. When I finally put together that I was raped, it was late. I wanted to crawl under a rock but instead my ex insisted that we call the police. We go to the station. And so we did. My head still spinning. They took me to the hospital where I endured the poking and prodding. The questions.

The detective didnt care. She didnt have the patience for the control freak man with me and had him leave the room while I told her everything I remembered. Then she belittled me for such a stupid move. Drinking underage with two guys. Wearing a short skirt. Being married at 20. She looked skeptical when I told her I was a virgin until I was married, that my ex was the only man I'd been with. She looked skeptical at every thing I said. She didn't believe me. I couldn't remember the guys name. Still can't. Travis maybe? I dont know. But I can still see his face, above me, pressed against me. I told her I would never drink again. That was the only lie but I meant it at the time.

The rapist was warned by my ex that we went to the police. He told his wife what happened and she took the kids and left him. Years later, after leaving my ex he told me that his family never believed me. He and his father even had the rapist over for dinner one night (his father still worked with him). I think he told me to make me angry but I just laughed and laughed. Finally I said, "This man who came into your home and raped your wife is now a guest at your house, sitting at your table, eating your food. He must think you guys are the stupidest men in the world!"

I love the Survivor in the Brock Turner case. She speaks for so many of us. The questions she endured by the detective and the defendants attorney, are the same misguided, victum blaming/shaming questions that so many of us hear. She gives a voice to us and strength to finally speak up. I had not talked about what happened to me in the eight years I have been with my 2nd Husband. He knew I was raped 11 years ago but I never told him anything else. It felt freeing. It gave me some closure to say it out loud. To have him hear every detail and see his love and his protective anger towards the perp and my ex who reviolated me. To know someone gave a damn about what happened and it didn't change who I was to them.

This is what I wish for all survivors: to have a voice to speak up, support to move forward and courage to change this broken system.

The rapist was never questioned. My ex- a child molester- will not be prosecuted. There is no justice for us in this world. We have to believe that in the next world there will be. I have to believe that.

I hope everyone on here finds a path to move forward. For me it starts with speaking truth and getting the poison out.