I wanted to give a bit of detail of where it came from and I feel like after going through the motions and doing therapy I can finally see the road that lead to that night. I didn’t have loving parents and because of that I went through my teenage years looking for love and affection in the wrong places.
I was actively seeking boyfriends who didn’t care for me by actively hurting me and telling me I’m worthless without them. I went through so much emotional trauma because I was so desperate to be needed, loved.
I went through the whole Tinder stage too, got Chlamydia from it, so that was great. Felt totally loved by the virus, definitely not worth the one night stand though. And eventually my slut phase came to an end on an eventful night out with the work colleagues.
Whether it was intentional or not, this girl I worked with asked me if I wanted a drink and I wanted to slow down on my alcohol and so I ordered a Diet Coke. I definitely got my drink, but with a little bit of GHB or Rohypnol (Who Knows). I remember needing the bathroom, being in the stall, feeling weird and dizzy, the world was moving, I wanted to shit or throw up but nothing was happening. I know throwing up makes me feel better but I kept spinning.
I started crying out please call an ambulance to the bathroom lady who sits on that chair in the girls toilet and tries to sell stuff like deodorant or perfume (if you’ve been to a club in England). I don’t remember who brought me out, but I remember the guy who took me. Took me to his home. Into his bed. Took my clothes off. Got on top of me... I was so out of it. I felt like I couldn’t move.
What’s weird about this though I was so in denial of it for so long. I remember that next morning he threw a towel at me and told me to shower. Every time I have a really bad migraine it just takes me back to that morning. My eyes being barely open because the light hurts. My body feeling so weak and brittle. My mouth, lips and throat feeling dry as if I’d ran out of saliva or something. I have no idea how I managed to shower and leave as if nothing had happened. What I don’t understand is why didn’t he act differently? Did he think I wanted to have sex with him? Did he not think to ask if I was okay? Or remind me that he had non-consensual sex with me?
I ended up quitting my job a month later.
I moved away from the area. I dropped out of college. I stopped working.. I stopped going out. I stopped eating. I just stopped.
I tried to kill myself in 2017. I was 20 at the time. Life was not good. I was cutting and not eating. I was generally unwell. It took a few weeks to realise that I couldn’t live that way and that’s when I got offered a job at my favourite cheeky chicken place!
Even work was difficult. There was these two girls who were absolute c**ts to me and made the recovery process very difficult. One of them even threatened to put my head in a chip fryer. No matter how many times I reported it to the restaurant manager, nothing was ever done. It was always my fault, I was pretty much the destructive, easy-to-blame type. So now I was in a job that made me even more miserable and no amount of free Halloumi cheese would fix it. My manager didn’t support me and I had to go to HR about it. My manager found out and pretty much gave me the option of leaving or leaving.
I felt really let down. I loved my job, it had shit people but there was also good ones too. My partner for example. I finally felt like I was recovering because of this job and to then feel let down and push aside like all my work and dedication was meaningless, I guess that’s why I started getting panic attacks.
I know it’s just a job. I know I’d find another one. But when you’ve recovered from something nasty and you finally fill yourself with a good distraction like work and this is how you get treated. It took a big chunk out of me.
That restaurant manager did end up being investigated and lost his job.
My partner still works at this chain of restaurants but has since moved location to a much better one.
I have only entered that restaurant maybe three times since I left in 2018.
Whether you call that another PTSD moment or not, who knows.
