I am afraid of the dark.

 

Not because of some silly childhood fear of monsters, but because of a very real, adult fear of real, adult monsters.

 

According to the U.S. Bureau of Justice, there were 255,630 reported cases of sexual assault in 2006.

 

The data for 2009 has yet to be compiled, but there is one thing I know: I am a part of that statistic.

 

Last summer, while walking the short distance from downtown Royal Oak to the home I was house-sitting, I was attacked and sexually assaulted. I had decided to leave my cousin’s  “last night out” bachelorette party early, and head home for the night.

 

I made it to about a block outside of downtown, when I stopped at a street corner to adjust the bags I was carrying. As I re-situated myself, I was grabbed from behind and forced to the ground.

 

The attack itself, clichéd as it may sound, is a total blur.

 

I remember screaming as my face hit the pavement, trying to struggle free, then seeing house lights start to illuminate. Someone must have heard me and come outside because before I could grasp what was happening, my attacker was running.

 

The police were there in a matter of minutes. I was given something to cover up with, as part of my clothing was lying in the street, and taken to the station.

 

The questions started that night and would continue for the next week. “What did he look like?” “What exactly happened?” “Why were you walking?” “Which direction did he run?”

 

I tried to answer the questions, replaying the incident in my head like a broken movie reel, but the truth was I didn’t really know much.

 

In addition to my multiple visits to the police station, I also had to be examined by the nurses at HAVEN, Help Against Violent Encounters Now. It felt like one invasion of privacy after another.

 

Replaying and then replaying it again, in a way, made it harder for me to grasp what had happened. And I didn’t really, until I foolishly started reading the news reports.

 

As a journalism major, I know that you’re not supposed to print the names of victims of sexual assaults names for ethical reasons. And thank God, they didn’t.

 

However, the details were there in black and white: She went to a bachelorette party, decided to walk home, attacked around 1 a.m.

 

Then, there were the comments. One in particular, from Channel 7 News, is burned into my brain.

 

“What was she doing walking by herself from the bar that late at night? We know she wasn’t going to church in the morning.”

 

That’s when it hit me. I had been raped, and someone wanted to tell me it was my fault? Someone I didn’t even know wanted to insinuate that I was deserving of this in some way?

 

My view of the world was instantly shattered. Not only did I no longer feel safe in my cushy, suburban life, but now, I had every reason to believe that people were not inherently good.

 

I realize that, to a lot of people, I am “lucky.” It could have been worse. I could not be here today. In a way, I guess I am, but “lucky” is the last thing I have felt.

 

I carry mace now. I refuse to walk to the car by myself as soon as it is even partially dark. And I am unintentionally suspicious of every man I see. I see the world through entirely different eyes.

 

However, after months of trying to hide my anger and tell myself that if I just don’t think about it, it will stop hurting, I realize that those actions led to just the opposite outcome.

 

I am able to maintain composure through most days, but most nights are full of tears, yelling, and an ugly side of myself I had never seen before.

 

It has always been my belief that dealing with things on my own made me strong. However, this time, I am finding out that my old ways of coping simply will not work.

Resources are there for a reason. Because, in all reality, this isn’t something anyone can handle alone.

 

Personally, I find relief in a private counselor. Talking things out, trying to make sense of a completely fucked up situation, and then strategizing ways to release the anger without lashing out at the closest warm body, has allowed me to finally breathe easy again.

 

The Oakland University Counseling Center, located in Graham Health center offers an on-campus outlet for victims of sexual assault.

 

 Its website, www.oakland.edu/GCC/, provides students with resources like HAVEN’s phone number, guidelines on what to do after being assaulted, the healing process, and what to expect during police investigations.

 

Graham also offers confidential counseling, including six free sessions to all OU students, and further help costing only $12 per session.

 

OUPD offers RAD, Rape Aggression Defense, classes that are designed to teach women “realistic self-defense tactics and techniques.” And although I had never even thought to enroll in such a course, I am currently signed up for the January basic training.

 

The man who assaulted me has yet to be caught, and as time wares on, the odds of that happening decrease. 

 

The truth is that being prepared is my only defense. I can’t walk around for the rest of my life scared that somehow I will wind up in the wrong place at the wrong time again, but I can prepare myself if that does happen.

 

I will never “get over” what happened to me. It’s a scar that is ugly and permanent, and will only become faded with time. There will be bad days and good days, but I have to believe the eventually the bad days will become less prevalent and I will start to feel whole again.

 

Getting help is the first step in that direction. Putting my feelings on paper has been the second. 

 

 

Editors note: If you, or anyone you know, has been a victim of sexual assault, please contact these resources: HAVEN 24-hour hotline: 877-922-1274. RAD Registration/Information: 248-370-3331. Graham Counseling Center: 248-370-3465.