The Cost Of My Sexual Assault
The morning-after pill, a hairdryer, a weekend trip, and more
Approximately three and a half years ago, a former male friend raped me in my apartment. It’s a sickeningly common story. Part of how I coped with it was through minimizing, through diminishing the story as if I could shrink it into not being real. I’d like to be able to say that I don’t do that anymore, but the reality is that, as I’ve processed and healed, I’m working on not doing that anymore.
There are many ways to think about the cost of my rape: the cost of fear, the cost of a friend, the cost of panic attacks, the cost of three years of my life, the cost of learning to love and trust again, the cost of learning to forgive myself for something that wasn’t my fault. The mundane “cash or credit?”-type costs. I did not press charges or file a police report, so these costs simply reflect what I have spent in the aftermath of grieving, processing, and working through. Legal costs can be outrageous for many survivors, but I didn’t pursue that process. Also, I was very, very lucky with my health-related costs.
Disclaimer: I didn’t document these exactly, so everything listed is approximate. Also, this is a subset of the costs, and the list is nowhere close to exhaustive.
Immediate Costs
Blow dryer, $20
I never considered pressing charges, and after he left I showered. I had really long hair at the time, had to be somewhere in a couple of hours, and had no blow dryer. I remember standing at the CVS, largely numb, stumped by my options. Eventually I chose, since I was running out of time. I still have the blow dryer. It works quite well.
Morning after pill/exam, $40
I try to be kind to myself, to remember that I was dealing with a trauma. I still cringe, though, when I remember that it took me more than 48 hours to go to Planned Parenthood for the morning after pill (I wasn’t on birth control at the time, and he didn’t use a condom) and tests to make sure I didn’t contract HIV or another STD/STI.
Personal day, $240
I tried to go into work that day but felt too sick from the medication.
Distraction Costs
Weekend trip, $500
I couldn’t stand being in my city for a time. I took a weekend trip to NYC; my only memory of this trip is watching several pay-per-view movies in my hotel room and going to the Frick Collection. I journaled a lot. I still remember one entry where I wrote, “Can you be raped without there being a rapist?” Even then I knew the answer, but I didn’t want to believe a guy I had thought was my friend could be become something so different.
Plays and concerts, $200
I dragged friends and co-workers to numerous events, trying to fill my evenings and weekends, and to exhaust myself. I only told one why; she was amazingly supportive.
Therapy and self-care costs
Therapy, $120
I only did this for six months. I don’t like to talk about personal things with strangers, and I found therapy really, really hard. My work reimbursed me for all costs except transportation.
Self-care, $7,500
My long-term healing and processing has largely been through an expensive hobby that challenges me mentally and physically, and provides a complete distraction whenever I need to get out of my head.
Replacement costs
Clothes, $50
I did not consciously replace the outfit I wore that night after I threw it out, but I guess it’s probably fair game to consider the next outfit I purchased more or less a replacement one.
Moving (replacement apartment), $1500
So, the thing about being raped in your apartment is, you suddenly don’t want to be there. Ever. My panic attacks and flashbacks got pretty bad, and when I had the chance to move to a larger and cheaper place, I felt like I had been saved. That said, moving is always pricey: first and last months’ rent, boxes, movers, never getting all of your deposit back, an unexpected water bill for two years, etc.
Furniture, $0
I kept my bed; I’d had it for years, and it never triggered anything for me, oddly enough. I kept it till I moved in with my boyfriend. I also still have the chair that was in my room that night; it’s a very comfortable chair. I find it empowering that I could pick and choose what I kept and what I discarded from that time, it is one way I regained control.
As I was drafting this list, I debated including my hobby since it is so much more than just a cost or consequence of the assault. And in many ways, the list is ongoing. It also reflects how incredibly fortunate I was in the aftermath: to have a supportive employer, to find the most amazingly wonderful and supportive partner a year and a half later, to have no long-term physical health consequences.
I also realized that I didn’t know whether to include things like more cab rides: even though the assault occurred in my home, I’m still more fearful on the streets and more triggered by street harassment as a result. Should I consider restaurant meals, massages, books, journals, movie tickets, tissues, Tylenol PM, etc., as life costs or as aftermath costs? My life is the aftermath, and it is all intertwined and messy.
Jennifer works in human rights, and lives with her fiancé and their bunny.
If you appreciated this piece, click the “Recommend” button below. For more pieces from The Billfold, follow us on our page, or on Facebook or Twitter.
