This blog is probably be the most difficult I have had to write. It’s personal and brutally honest, but I did say in one of my first blogs that I am not a character, nor is this a novel. I have not modified stories for entertainment. I think the thought of writing this particular blog is the reason why I had such a huge gap between my blogs. I didn’t know quite how to get this one out and word it etc, but I’m going to word it as best as I can… This is a long one, so if you’re going to read it perhaps grab a snack or 3:
I was going to enter into my mad high school years but I thought about it and to be honest its nothing that we haven’t heard in terms of high school/ illegal drinking. In high school as I have said I just drank to give myself a little lift in terms of confidence, I felt pretty, happy and funny. Yes I did some stupid things, some wilder than others but I’m sure most of us did. I behaved in an obnoxious and arrogant way as oppose to my varsity years, where my drinking was amplified and my behaviour was on another level of crazy.
I was 18 and just about leaving school. What an amazing feeling. We all went on a holiday to celebrate. I had one week, then I was flying home for final assembly at school and the very same day I was going to fly back for another week so 2 weeks. After the second week I had to be home to go away with my family. The first half of the holiday was amazing, going away with your mates without your folks… I felt so grown up, off on my own, doing my own thing, waking up when I wanted, having no commitments and going to more than one club and staying out as late as I wanted, which was unheard of in school. As my mom would drop me off at one club and pick me up at 11pm sharp, sometimes I pushed it to 12pm, at a stretch.
Getting ready for the holiday nights out was marvellous; swopping clothes and jewellery, using each other’s perfumes, taking loads of stupid pictures… the usual girly things. Then going out and having an absolutely awesome night, waking up in the morning and getting ready for the beach while talking about the hilariousness of the night before. I’m referring to, possibly kissing the bouncer for free VIP entrance, dancing on speakers for a free bottle of champagne, giving someone a fake name and speaking in a British accent… the usual girls night out. It had been one of the best holidays I had ever had, but on about day 3 we were walking back to our hotel after quite a long day of strolling, and my ankle started to swell up, resembling a rather unattractive goitre type thing, I had a uni-kankle, if you will.
About a week before this holiday, back at home I went out the one night, I wasn’t suppose to come home, I was meant to sleep at a mate of mine. But I wanted to come home, so my friend who was a bartender at the club offered me a lift home. I got home but I had no gate opener, I knew this but I was going to find a way to get in regardless. I rang the bell a couple of times as I was sure someone would open (it was 5:30am), no one answered. Unfortunately my friend wasn’t driving, his friend was and he was getting seriously twitchy and quite angry that I wasn’t getting in. I told them to leave, and did they leave, wheels spinning and all. I would find a way in… and I certainly did…
I stood in my driveway for some time, staring at the electric fence and wondering how I was going to do this. My gate was slatted so it wasn’t one of those place your foot in a hole and pull yourself up and over. Well look I did try that but I kept sliding down the slats (not ideal). I was getting quite inpatient and passers by were quite intrigued with what I was doing. After many attempts at the gate, and trying to lift my leg high enough to put in the post box as a base to push off, I spotted a tree in the next-door plot. The tree was right next to my wall and right at the gate pretty much. So yes, I threw my handbag and horrible shiny silver heels over the gate and I started to climb the tree.
The tree was not exactly against the wall so I had to stretch somewhat. I was stupid enough or rather crazy and not thinking, but I touched the electric fence to see if it worked, and was in luck because it wasn’t on. So In mid hoist onto the wall I heard the garage opening. We had a long driveway the garage was at the top but I heard it so I waited, half in the tree half on the wall. Then I saw my step father’s car driving down and jumped back fully into the tree, I was basically dangling from the highest branch. He was on his way to work. The car stopped, the door opened, there were some footsteps that disappeared, I waited, the foot steps returned the door closed, gate opened and I watched the roof of the car as it pulled out the gate. I couldn’t breath. I was so scared. I still wonder what the gardener opposite the road thought as he was watching me the whole time amazed at my sheer agility.
So now that the fence was off, the car was gone, so I climbed back onto the wall. I had to place each hand and foot over opposite sides of the fence because the wall was pretty narrow and I needed all the grounding I could get. So I crawled along the wall for about 40 meters until I was near-ish to the house. Now I had to jump, I considered hanging on the wall and dropping down but the wall being as narrow as it was and having the fence there made it super tricky so I had to get as low as possible and just jump. And… I did. Landing on my one foot first, hitting it with quite a bit of impact, the other foot followed, then I fell forward completely. I started laughing from the pain and I suppose the situation. I looked down the drive way for my shoes and bag, they had disappeared. My stepfather had them… now I was really in for it.
Never the less I limped up to the house, and eventually into my room, my ankle was so sore. As I got into comfy clothes my mother walked in and was furious. How did you get home? Where have you been? Why are you falling all over the place? And she stormed out. I was in so much pain I just got into bed. I left my ankle and never told my mom about it. That evening the bag and shoe story came up at dinner, I explained what happened and neither of them were impressed. Although now, the story is a fond favourite at dinner parties.
So there the kankle story starts. So after walking all day with my swollen ankle, I just left it still, then it got unbearable in the late afternoon and I went to see a doctor… long story short I ended up getting crutches. That night I got dressed up and went out with my crutches, on arrival one guy said, "Die Hard hey?" (I didn’t realize how much that name would eventually define me.) Cool thing about crutches, people let you to the front of the cue, crap thing, guys get drunk and think it’s hilarious to throw the crutches across the club. True story. I got bored of the crutches I wanted to dance and have a party so I would leave them behind the bar, hobble to the dance area, and just sort of stomp with my good foot to the beat. What a dork.
I stopped with the crutches altogether they were just a hindrance actually, I just walk/limped lightly and I carried on with my ‘good foot stomp’ at the clubs. Finally I even attempted heels, this was the second last night of the holiday and it was going to be great. I felt good about myself, I felt glamorous.
Well the pictures don’t show what I felt I wore way too much bronzer and shimmer powder. I learnt about the t-zone of the face from magazines, something about powdering them or defining them or what ever so I put shimmer all over my forehead, nose and chin. Then I read about defining cheekbones with shimmer, so I did that too. My friends called me ‘TIN MAN’ because that’s what I looked like, slightly more fake-tanned but same idea. I really only have myself to blame and my dyslexia and… teen magazines, of course.
So I was at the club, feeling good, and across the bar I saw a guy I had recently met. I went up to say hello and we were chatting and had a few drinks. I don’t remember exactly the step-by-step in terms of how it all happened but I went back to his flat with the impression that there was a house party thing happening there. I have never been academically clever but I do have my wits about me but after a few drinks I turn naïve. I trust everyone and their word I still am a bit like this, if I ask a friend if they have done something and they say no, I believe them regardless of about 10 other people saying otherwise. So I believed all was ok, all was safe and fairytaley…
I was stupid enough to think people were still going to come, but as we sat and waited we kissed. One thing led to another, and it was about to go further than I wanted. I don’t know if it was selective hearing but ‘no’ and ‘please’ and ‘stop’ were not being heard. I was physically not strong enough to do anything. Silently crying, I waited for him to fall asleep. Then I got up, opened the door, and now I don’t remember exactly where I was or how I got out, iv blocked this from my mind for 5 years but I just walked. I put my heels in my bag and walked. I eventually by some miracle found a hotel I knew my friend was staying in. I wiped my eyes and started running I didn’t care that my feet were taking a grating from the tar. I ran up to the front desk and asked the manager for her room. He wouldn’t let me go upstairs he said he would phone her room, this was at about 5-6am. I got through, and as he watched me the only thing I could say to her to sound seemingly realistic when she picked up, the only thing I could think of at the time was, "are you ok?" and I burst out crying. Maybe because I was desperate for him to ask me the same question, I don’t know. I put the phone down and said I’m sorry my friend is really sick please can you let me go up and see her. He wouldn’t. I begged and pleaded. But who could blame him actually; I must have looked like a tramp. So I walked out of the hotel again and the tears just kept rolling.
Eventually I reached the shopping centre where the club I went to the previous night was. I needed money to get a taxi back to my hotel, which was far away. So I started for the ATM and heard my name being called. It was the bartenders from the club; I had been going to the same club every night so they knew me. I turned around and saw them running towards me. I tried to look happy but the mascara down my face must have suggested otherwise. They offered me a lift home and I said no ill get a taxi its too far. But they knew something was wrong, and they said they didn’t care how far it was they would be happy to help. The drive was silent, I didn’t want to speak, I just thanked them when I got home I don’t think they knew what to say either.
I sat outside my room for a while because I didn’t want to wake my two friends up, but then I couldn’t take it I had to speak to someone. And I opened the door, my one friend was there with her boyfriend, they were still awake, my other friend was at her boyfriend’s house. I started crying again and asked if I could speak with her, she thought I was laughing, I don’t blame her, that is what I would probably normally do, come home in the early hours of the morning with a ridiculous story about dancing and becoming best friends with a homeless person, kissing the boy iv had a crush on since I was 4 or whatever. But as soon as she got outside she knew too. Everything wasn’t all right. When my other friend came home I told her too. All I could think about was a shower; it was all I wanted to do. I felt filthy. I showered and they discussed, as I got out they said they were going to get me some stuff and did they get me stuff.
Its funny because when you are 18 you feel so old, but when I look at 18 year olds now, they are actually so young, still maturing somewhat. But I think back now and my friends who were 18 handled it with a level of maturity I cannot even express. They were gone for about two hours, in that time I showered again. They returned with anxiety tablets, shock tablets, ARV’s, you name it they had it. They even brought me a sugary drink for the shock, and despite my OCD dieting habits I drank it down. They told me what I was going to do and said everything was going to be ok. I have never known to people to act in such an efficient and mature way. I felt safe.
That day I spoke to a mutual friends boyfriend who was a policeman, I didn’t want to tell anyone but I was advised to. So I did. He said if I took it to the police I would just be another case or if I took it to court for that matter I would lose. So that was the end of that. I was going home the next day and in my mind I had already decided to miss the flight, I didn’t know how I was going to face people my mom especially. So that night I don’t know what was going through my head but I went out, got horribly drunk, horribly. My friends messaged me and said they were leaving for the airport, I replied and said I’m missing the flight, I lied and said I couldn’t find a taxi, but in truth I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to tell anyone; at the same time I didn’t know how I was going to act like nothing happened so I missed the flight. I landed up on the beach swimming in my clothes with a group of random girls who were praising me for being such a legend and missing my flight. Little did they know.
At about 10am I got a call from my mother, she was absolutely furious and who could blame her, I had wasted that ticket money and for what. I told her the same taxi story she wasn’t buying it she booked me on the earliest flight home. At the airport I had never felt so numb… the ticket woman asked me if I had just got out of hospital because I look so pale and weak. That made me feel even worse. I don’t really remember what happened when I got home that’s a bit of a blur, but I do know that when this news of me missing my flight came out, parents were talking and saying that I was reckless and irresponsible and that they didn’t want their children associated with me. Again who could blame them. So I was suppose to fly back and have another week but obviously that was completely out of the question. So I had missed my final school assembly, wasted two plane tickets and was scared shitless.
I stayed in bed for 2 days straight telling my mom I was just exhausted. And on the third morning I was woken up by my two best friends they told me that they were taking me to breakfast so I got ready and we left. Later I found out we were not going for breakfast. They took me to a psychologist, at first I resisted I didn’t want to tell anyone, but I ended up talking and what a release it was, she told me which steps I should take from there and what to do. Then we did go to breakfast after all, and I have never felt such support from friends as I did that day. But I was still not going to tell my family I was going to keep it to myself.
When I eventually did tell my mom about what happened I was taken to doctors, I was taken for tests. I had a pregnancy test, HIV, and STD screening. Thank God I wasn’t pregnant, thank God I wasn’t HIV positive, I never contracted syphilis or anything serious but the tests did show two diseases. Neither were fatal, neither showed symptoms, both were easily treatable but one if not treated early would render a female infertile. I have never been so relieved because I had planned to keep this a secret for as long as I could.
But before I told my mom and my family, the month and a half between the time it happened and the time I told my mom was Christmas holidays. It was a holiday from hell. Nearly 2 months of keeping silent. Nearly two months of trying to suppress the memory. It was absolute hell. But I will write about that in the next blog.
