Tag Archives: assault and battery

1 YEAR, 28 DAYS AND 12 HOURS

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Yesterday, I did it!  I finally faced my fear of returning to the scene of the crime.  It only took me 1 year, 28 days and 12 hours.  Better that than never, I’d say.  There were so many times I thought I’d never be able to go over there again.  It’s not like the attack happened in a remote place that I normally would never go near.  I live on an island that’s not very big, and the beach side of the island has been off-limits to me since it happened.  Physically, I was unable to go there.

Last Thanksgiving morning, as I was walking uptown to get a bagel, Kim called.  So instead of going the more direct way, I chose to go the ‘longer’ way to have more time on the phone.  That longer way would entail walking up to Ocean Blvd.  Never gave it a second thought.  My body, though, had other ideas.  When I was just a couple blocks away from the beach, I literally was stopped in my tracks.  Just as those grocery carts that cannot be taken off the property of the supermarket, I could go no further.  My heart started racing and I thought I was going to have a heart attack.  I had to backtrack and go a different way.  Luckily, I did not have that reaction yesterday.

I cannot remember now exactly when my body started feeling somewhat safe again.  It was a very long, gradual process, which is why I can’t pinpoint it.  What I do remember is being in therapy, week after week, in physical pain, and Susie telling me that the pain wasn’t real, that it was muscle memory.  It sure felt real.  And for a long time when I went out to walk, even if it was just 4 blocks up the street to the store, and, of course, only in the middle of the day and never regularly (as I recounted in the previous post, I was ‘stuck’ to my bed), I was in so much physical pain from the attack that it made walking difficult.  I basically suffered whiplash when he slammed me to the pavement, not to mention the fighting for my life that left my arms and ribs so incredibly sore.  All of that trauma was stored as memory in my body and that pain would intensify as soon as I went outside.  Oddly enough, it didn’t happen when I was off the island.  Or at least not to the same degree.  Of course, then I was almost always with my boyfriend and I felt safe with him.

As I said, the pain subsided over (a long) time and yesterday all I really felt was anxiety over retracing that walk.  I would say that I felt fine as we (I had my friend Laura along for emotional support) got closer to Ocean Blvd; well, as fine as could be expected when going back to where the worst thing I’ve ever experienced happened.  There were lots of people around, the sun was still shining.   I had built up such a fear of the ‘place,’ though intellectually I knew I was safe.  Still, I had to continuously remind myself that I was, indeed, safe.  I also was/am aware that it’s not the ‘place’ that did it, just as I know it’s not the fault of the island.  It was a person who attacked me, and he is no longer here to harm me or anyone else.

I thought I’d just KNOW exactly the spot where the attack occurred.  Didn’t exactly jump out at me, though.  We kind of had to figure it out.  The whole last 13 months, in my mind, it happened at the corner of the Beach Village and the Windsor Cottage, but in reality it had to have happened in front of the Windsor Cottage because of the way the path/sidewalk winds around.  It’s not a huge difference, but it makes/made the difference in my being heard and/or seen and rescued by my angel.  The picture below is where it happened.  It looks so unassuming.

And from the opposite direction.

And the shot below is what I would have been seeing if I would have been looking anywhere but my attacker’s face as he attempted to rape me.  It sure doesn’t look like anything bad could ever happen there.  Unfortunately, that’s not the case.

Lastly, me on the spot.

I guess it is a relief that I finally did it.  I am still processing it.  Another step closer to being finished.   I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it, but I did!

31 OCTOBER 2011

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I am still working out the ‘best’ way to tell my story.  I, of course, have many ideas and am constantly writing posts in my head.  When it comes to actually writing them down here, those same amazing, wonderful, oh-so-eloquent words seem to abandon me.  Or they don’t come out the way I was thinking them.  In any case, the entry from the 31st last year is what will follow.  When reading over it, and with the benefit of a year and a year of therapy, it is so clear to me now just how bad I felt.  At the time, although I was writing what I was feeling, I simply had no clue just how much work I had to do and how incredibly hard it was going to be.

One of the instant effects of the attack was not being able to cry.  Oh, my eyes would do what I called leaking.  About 3 tears would leak out, but that was it.  There was no release or relief from it.  I KNEW I was in shock, but I didn’t realize exactly what that meant.  And my thought process was extremely skewed, as will become more and more clear as I copy my journal entries from that time.

About a month after the attack, Bill asked me if it was all right that he take a trip with his friend, Victor, up the coast of California.  My response was, “I’m not the boss of you.”  He said something to the effect of, “I know.  But you’ve been having such a hard time lately that I don’t want to go if you don’t want me to.”  Something like that.  I assured him that I would be okay, that I had Laura close by and that I needed to learn to be on my own again.  And we would continue to talk each evening at some point.   So he left for about a week, returning on Halloween.

31 October 2011

6a –  I seem to be stuck in NOT walking now.  I lie here in bed and will myself to get up and get out and I just continue to lie here.  I cannot make myself do it.  I so want to and I can’t do it.  It is so frustrating.  I am gaining weight.  i can tell because my boobs are getting bigger.  It has been over 5 weeks of not walking.  Since I normally walk a minimum of 60+ miles a week, this is a HUGE loss and how could I NOT gain weight?  I haven’t successfully found any activity to replace it.  I guess this is all a part of the process.  As much as I want to, I can’t just ‘make’ myself do it.  I’m a bit frozen to my bed.

9a – Well, my eyes certainly are leaking this morning.  I also feel like an elephant is sitting on me.  I guess it’s a good thing I have therapy today.  I know this thought is completely irrational and it keeps popping up: I am such a loser.  I can’t even get up and go for a walk.  How hard is that?  Apparently too hard just now.  And I so want to talk to Bill but I don’t want to bother him.

It feels a little like I’m going crazy but how would I know what that feels like unless I’ve gone there before.  Perhaps I have, or maybe I’ve always been crazy and what I’m feeling now is normal.  But what’s normal?  I think I’m about as far from normal as anyone could possibly be.  It feels like I am broken and can’t be fixed.

9:28a – So I broke down and called Bill.  It is just so nice to hear his voice.  It is so reassuring.  In spite of calling him, I still feel like crap.  My eyes are continuing to leak.  I guess this is a good thing, though it doesn’t feel that way.

THE STORY OF MY ATTACK

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The following is the letter that I wrote to friends and family, with the idea that I would also submit it to the Coronado Eagle Journal (local newspaper.)  I soon realized that, first of all, I couldn’t have it in the paper until AFTER we had gone to court and everything was settled; and secondly, the newspaper would never print it because no one wants to know or believe that bad things can happen on our idyllic little island. I wrote this on 11 October 2011.

On 24 September 2011 at approximately 5:55am, my life changed in a way that I never expected.  But let me back up first and give you a little background.  I walk.  I don’t run, I walk.  And I walk many, many miles a week.  Most days, usually 5 mornings a week, I get up early, and by early that usually means somewhere between 4 and 4:30am, to walk.  I generally walk alone, though sometimes I meet a friend and we do a very quick 4 miles.  When I walk alone, I do anywhere from 5-6 1/2 miles a day during the week and Saturday is always my ‘long’ day when I would walk between 8 and 10 miles.  The week of Sept. 19-24 I didn’t set my alarm (wanted to see what time I would wake up) and was waking up each morning at 5:20am.  I thought I’d awaken at the same time on Saturday.  Instead, I woke up earlier, maybe around 4:40am.  In any case, I left my house right at 5am.  When I first woke up, the thought that entered my mind was, ‘Go back to sleep.’  I considered it for a few moments and then told ‘my lazy self to get my butt out of bed and go walk.’  I told myself I didn’t have to walk 10 miles, but 7 would be good.  I didn’t have to be in La Jolla until 11:30am, so I would still have plenty of time to get ready and pack for our weekend getaway to Santa Barbara.  I cannot tell you how many times I have wished I had listened to my first thought and just stayed in bed.

I went down to First, to Alameda, to Sixth, to Coronado Avenue, to Ocean Blvd.  I didn’t see anyone until I was in the middle of Ocean.  A guy passed me (he was on the sidewalk, I was on the street) and I said, “Good Morning!” Just as I do to anyone I see on my walks.  He did not respond or acknowledge me, and though this is not the norm, it does happen.  My impression of him was that he looked like a rat.  His face seemed to be very pointy and he was smallish and just looked like a rat.  He had a baseball hat on and his hood was pulled up, so I really only saw his face.  Still, I didn’t get any kind of a negative vibe or feeling from or about him.  Some people simply are not friendly in the morning.  I walked a little further and then stopped to stretch my shins on the curb.  When I turned to stretch I noticed that the guy had turned around and was heading back in my direction.  I thought nothing of it.  I finished stretching and continued on my way before he got all the way to where I was.  Again, no warning bells went off in me.

About 5 minutes (maybe a little longer) later when I was in front of the Beach Village condos, almost to the Windsor Cottage on the boardwalk between the beach and the Del, I heard someone running up behind me.  I thought it was a regular runner.  Instead, it was the guy I had passed, coming at me as fast as he could and with all the strength he possessed, he hit me in the center of my back with both his hands and slammed me into the cement.  I went down and hit both my hips and hands, but as I hit the ground, he flipped me over and most of the injuries I sustained were on my right side.  He had me on my back and my underwear and skort off in 1 SECOND.  Three thoughts went through my head simultaneously: 1. I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING TO ME.  2.  I gotta get some tighter clothes, and 3. I cannot believe how FAST it happened.  Mind you, the entire time I was screaming my head off as I was literally fighting for my life.  I was also determined that he was NOT going to rape me.  The only memory I have of the attack is the initial hit and the end when I remember seeing his fists getting ready to knock my lights out because I was not shutting up and I was fighting him so hard.  Luckily for me, before he was able to hit me and knock me out, God sent an angel to save me.

A guest at the Del, a Radiologist from Alabama, was going out to take a run and heard my screams.  It did not register what he was seeing at first and then he noticed I was naked from the waist down and he knew it was bad.  He ran over and was yelling at the guy to get off of me, to stop and, idiot that my attacker was, he continued to try and subdue me.  Finally, my angel got him to stop and my attacker ran away.  My only concern at that point was to get my clothes pulled back up.  My angel then walked me into the hotel and got security, who then called the police.

The whole experience was surreal.  I love watching CSI; what I don’t like is being in a real-life episode of it.  I was with the police for about 8 1/2 hours.  (It is SO much quicker on television.)  In the end, we did not leave for our trip until 3:30pm.  We missed the opening act (Emmylou Harris) but got to see Don Henley.  It was good that we were already planning on leaving town.  Being gone helped take my mind off of the horror I went through.  I wanted to stay gone forever, but we had to come back.  I had to be back at the police station for follow-up photos of my injuries on Tuesday, 27 Sept.  While the photographer was taking the pictures, I kept thinking that they (the police) must all think I’m a big, fat baby because, truly, my injuries were so minor and were not any indication of how violent the attack really was.  I do not understand WHY I wasn’t hurt worse.  I told the detective that  I was afraid the report could not and would not convey the violence of what happened and the photos would seem so trivial and ridiculous and that the judge would look at the evidence and think I overreacted and let him out.  No one was discouraging me from going to the arraignment, but no one was encouraging me either.  In the end, I found out from the District Attorney that it was my RIGHT to go and be heard, if necessary.  His bail was set at $100,000 and because there were actually three charges: assault and battery, sexual assault and attempted rape, the DA was able to get the bail raised to $250,000.  No one was there for him and no one posted his bail.  Thank God!

The preliminary hearing is set for 1 November and I will have to testify then.  It is my hope that he gets the punishment he deserves.  I know in our system of justice everyone is innocent until proven guilty, but he is GUILTY.  I know, I was there.  I also know that this could have turned out far worse.  My reason for writing this is I do want everyone to know what happened.  I did NOT do anything wrong.  I was viscously attacked on the property of the Del.  I am 5’10” tall and extremely fit.  I looked him in the face and said good morning.  I did everything RIGHT and yet this happened.  If it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone.  What I also told the police was it isn’t possible to take pictures of the ‘other’ injuries he inflicted on me.  You can’t photograph the pain I had in my arms from fighting him so hard or my bruised ribs from him holding me down or the emotional damage he did.  And though my physical injuries are mostly healed, I still feel the places that were hurt.  And maybe worst of all, my entire sense of security is gone.  I am afraid in ways that I have never been afraid before.  I am in therapy and know that I will get through this.  I just hope that I can get the ‘me’ that was lost on that Saturday morning back again.  So if you know me and see me on the street or walking my bike on the sidewalk uptown and I can’t quite smile at you, please understand that I am still in shock and working through the trauma.  It will take time.

And, no, I am not back to walking in the early morning yet.