Thread by @AbiPepperz357

dirty with my words. I believed that something was really faulty in me and that I deserved every molestation that happened because I had to be an evil person, if not, how could God watch my innocence be stolen away from me like that?
I finished school. 51

Buried all my pain deep down and had a stupendous rage towards my parent. There came a time, we couldn’t be in the same room. She’s still best friends with her friend so we still had contact with her children. Bidemi tried to convince me that we had been in a relationship 52

and would smirk at me every opportunity he got.
I never called him ‘brother’ (a cultural deference used for anyone older) and wouldn’t change no matter what anyone said. I would snarl at him in the rare moments I was alone with him. Yet I somehow kept things together 53

when I went to visit the family, deliver a message from my parent or just to see Yejide who was my friend then. So nobody knew a thing.
I went to university and started having sex and I told myself that at least I was doing it on my own terms and not being forced. 54

Everything was buried deep down. I had manic moments of energetic joy and I would talk non-stop and then I would crash and have really bad moments of feeling worthless.

I didn’t understand it and didn’t have anyone to explain my feelings to, so I wrote them out in poems, 55

teaching myself to only put in glimpses of my rage &pain &bottle the rest. Then my beloved father passed away &I tried to mend fences with the only parent I had left. We still didn't talk about the things that had happened &I believed that I could sweep them under the carpet. 56

In 2004, I got the opportunity to come to the UK to do my masters. A few weeks to me leaving, Kayode, who had now become some type of pastor, came to our house and apologised for hurting me. He said he had been young, foolish and Bidemi who was older, had basically invited 57

him to come fulfil every sexual fantasy he could think of. I didn’t cry or say anything then so he had believed that I was enjoying what was happening. I was saved from saying anything back by the arrival of my parent but I remember I was hot with rage.
I came to the UK 58

and started studying and working. Then one day, at the university, there was an information drive on sexual abuse at the University of Bolton. I stopped at the stand and by the time the lady finished speaking, everything I had buried, started bubbling to the top. 59

After several severe chronic depressive states, I was diagnosed with chronic clinical depression and it was at my consultations with the psychologist that I first ever confronted what happened. I was almost thirty.
I’ve been finally dealing with what happened to me, 60

also dealing with the health issues that later on got me. Dealing with the rage bubbling within me. The love/hate relationship I had with my parent as I blamed her for everything that happened to me as a child even though she had no idea. Then I got really hit with 61

a cluster of debilitating illnesses. I couldn’t work full time, moved house and was going into hospital a lot.
In 2017,shortly after my 40th birthday and Christmas. I was at home, very unwell, going through a health crisis, with no real idea of time or day, my bell went 62

and when I managed to drag myself to the door, I thought I heard the man identify as one of the guys who came to service the apartments.
I buzzed the door open and was making my way back to bed as I usually did when they came to fix anything and I was unwell; when 63

the door opened and I was hit on the head from the back and I blacked out. I remember coming to with this man on top of me, in me. I was too stunned and weak to shout and all I could think was not again. Why me?
I blacked out several times 64

and finally I came to, when the cold water of the shower hit me. He had dragged me into the shower & started to wash me. I could see that he wasn’t one of the maintenance men. He was silent through out & I kept trying to commit his eyes to memory but I was mentally fatigued. 65

He finally said “fucking nigger”. I must be blacked out again because I have no recollection of when he left. I don’t know how long I was in that shower for, it could have been days or hours. I finally managed to drag myself out into my bed. I stayed that way till 66

I started to feel better days after. I didn’t see the point in telling the police because I’d been in the shower.
I managed to tell my best friend, Bukola and her brother Abbey and his wife Petra. They were very supportive and encouraging . I decided I didn’t want be 67

a victim and I decided I was going to push through. I really tried, then my parent informed me that she was coming to visit. Every painful thought of worthlessness came back and I crashed. I called the hospital and was given an emergency appointment to see a psychiatrist, 68

who gave me medication to numb me for the visit.
My parent was with me for 6 weeks and when going through the period of oblivion became too much for me, especially when I found out that she was still friends with her best friend and attending their family events despite 69

her knowledge of what had happened. I tried to explain the wound in my soul to my parent but she couldn't understand it. I was told that it was too late, nothing could be done, I should have spoken up, to forgive and forget and move on.
For the past two years, 70

I’ve been going through therapy in several forms. My damage is deep. I still have a lot of rage. I can’t deal with my parent emotionally because I always end up in a dark place. I’m trying to put the darkness away from me. I connected with Kayode Atobatele and we started 71

the Shaniqua/Ramota/Monsura skits, I used them as a retreat for my mind.

I don’t sleep at night, when I do sleep, I have two nightmares. Always the same. The first of my rape as a 5 year old and the second of my rape as a 40 year old. Every day.

I’m far from healed 72

but I’m pushing on. I don’t wish for sympathy. I am a survivor. However, since I’ve been in contact with accounts of rape, I keep returning to the dark places in my life. I react badly to any presentation of abuse. I struggle to breathe sometimes, the weight is crushing. 73

And when I see people question victims of rape and ridicule them. I feel raped again and I spiral again into darkness.
A few people already know of my story and as I said earlier, I had initially planned on waiting till much later in my life. However, the silence 74

is crushing my soul and I believe that the time to tell my truth is now, whether people agree or not. And most importantly, to share that with regards to this horrific violation, 75

it may take even the most eloquent of people, years to be able to speak up. As its taken me. The damage is truly deep and we should never be blamed. 76