Last week, I received a phone call I never thought I would get.
I left a rather cryptic status on FB, knowing that my friends who knew about the situation would know EXACTLY what it meant. And they did. I also left some people in a bit of a ‘huh?’ state…wondering what the heck I was talking about.
Over 6 years ago, someone broke into my house and raped me.
Last week, there was a hit on the DNA found in the rape kit.
They found him. And arrested him. And a detective from the hometown police department gave me a call to let me know.
What he did to require the submission of his DNA to the state, I don’t know, nor do I care to know. In all honesty, I don’t know what I want to know about him, if anything. I’m still in a bit of shock over the whole thing.
This is a good thing. As some people have commented, it is a grand time for closure, so that I just have the future to look forward to. I’m just a bit weary because I feel kind of ambivalent about it. Neither happy nor sad. Just that it is.
My husband has know about the assault since the day after it happened. He is tremendously supportive. One friend asked me if the support felt suffocating, to which I replied no. He is not overbearing. He is not smothering. He just worries sometimes, I think. I can get a little weird.
I don’t know what will happen next. It’s a waiting game. I don’t know if I will have to go back home to testify or anything like that. I don’t know what kind of time he would get if convicted.
I don’t know when my brain is going to catch up.
This blog post may or may not stay up. I’ve never hidden that I was raped, but it’s not something that you put out there in the first 5 minutes of conversation, either. If anything, my assault has shown me strength that I never thought I had. While I still have some residual affects (hyper-awareness is a particularly persistent twitch in my neurons), I’ve done my best to not let what happened rule my life. However, I may also decide that I don’t want this out there. Right now, in this moment, I think I do.