My Closure to that CBF Nonsense: Stillie Style

In my last post, I was expressing some very strong thoughts about something that was a current event at that time and, in response, decided to exorcize some demons and write about my own experiences that, in my mind, were true examples of the pathetic definition of "violation" being used by this women. I said I was going to continue writing posts about my own experiences. 

But I couldn't. I got to the situation where I was raped by someone I thought was a friend and that was as far as I could go. Writing the post got me angry. It made feel rage and hatred and embarrassment and shamefulness and disgust where before it had been shoved deep down inside and feelings were buried. Yes, I felt a lot of it within the few days following the rape but then I ignored them.

So I did what any other woman scorned would do. I hunted that motherfucker down.

In a former life, I worked for an auto repossession company. My job was to "skiptrace," the industry jargon to describe how I found people who didn't want to be found and, hopefully, that would lead us to the car. And we found them by any means necessary because, unlike bill collection, there are very few laws governing how we got the information we needed to track down debtors.

Kind of an aside story; feel free to scroll past if you don't care about repo tactics...

And we were nasty about it. We didn't do the verbal shakedown of the debtor over and over; that's never going to get you the car. We had morally-questionable tactics we employed. We had advanced databases for background checks that are much more thorough than even the sophisticated ones you find on the Internet these days. We had credit reports and we would sometimes call their other creditors and shared information. You'd be amazed at how many credit card companies were more than happy to give information on where they'd used their card in the last few days and anywhere that was a routine charge. Often the debtor was defaulting or behind on payments with them and we got info from them because we would give them our information when we found the debtor. It was an exchange deal. We used number spoofers for calling whoever it was we were trying to get information from. We used mailouts to the last known addresses or sometimes relatives so they could pass it on, offering free things and referenced personalized information in the letter so it didn't appear as if it was a random mailing. We called vindictive exes who were more than happy to tell us everything about the debtor's life so we could intercept them somewhere and, usually, we'd mail them coupons for free fast food in exchange for discretion. You'd also freak out if you knew how many people in government offices were willing to give information on a debtor's employment situation, especially if the debtor was having their wages garnished. If we were particularly desperate - the bank's commission to the repo company got higher as time went on but the longer you wait, the further the debtor goes, so we never sat on accounts. Plus they'd accumulate. - we'd do even nastier things. Like, call the co-signer or close relative, pretend to be a clinic or a doctor, and tell whoever answered - or left the message - that we received the test results and were legally required to obtain a list of people from the debtor and they needed to contact us immediately. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that could be about. So, yeah...we were scumbags.

Back to my original story:

So I did what any other woman scorned would do. I hunted that motherfucker down.

After working for an hour or so for a couple of days, I found him. I was working with a lot less but was still successful and giddy over it. I hadn't lost my touch!

I had a few Crown & diets and sat down to write a letter. Anonymously, of course. If he remembered doing it (who could forget?), he'd know who I was. If he didn't, he might rack his brain trying to figure it out.

I began by asking him if he remembered raping me and even gave him the hint by telling him when it happened. I spent a paragraph or two explaining the reason behind why he was getting the letter. Next, I outlined the events of the rape in excruciating detail. Last, I spent a couple of paragraphs explaining why I never reported him, how I feel now, and the impact the rape had on my life then and now.

There are three possible outcomes in the arrival of the letter. One, he could find it himself and deal with it in whatever way. Two, his wife finds it and has a lot of questions, some weird emotions, and there could be far-reaching consequences. Third, his kid could find the letter and either open themselves, like nosy teens tend to do, or maybe leave it in a common area for a parent to pick up and open. Extra points if both parents are present - and maybe the kid - when it's opened. I mean, it's clearly a personal letter with no return address, making it pretty curious. So...

I feel good about it. I took pictures of each page so I could remember what I wrote. I messaged them to one of my good friends and she told me it made her cry. I tried to read it a couple days later and I couldn't get past the first paragraph. I was seriously disturbed and agitated by it so I had to stop.

Sometimes I think it really did make me heal. Doctors always tell you, "Oh, write a letter and then throw it away. It'll help!" Uh, no. I've done it many, many times and, trust me when I say that, no, it didn't help. Knowing that the target of your pain is being forced to deal with it, at least for a few sentences before they freeze and toss it, provides a feeling of freedom that simply writing a pointless letter can never provide. My current doctor said she'd like to read it if that's okay with me. She said she thinks we need to talk about and evaluate at least one of my situations but I'm just going to say that I think she's more curious than wanting to be helpful.

There was no doubt in my mind that he wouldn't try to track ME down and he hasn't. I bet $100 he doesn't even remember my last name. Even if he does, what's he going to do? Be mad? Threaten me? He needs to be glad I didn't use any of the other information I found to notify his wife, employer, and parents directly. I'll be sure to point that out if the situation ever arises.

So, that's the story. I'm not ashamed, I'm not sorry, and a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders and my heart. Whatever ramifications he has to deal with now is still considerably less than what I've gone through. If any of y'all are dealing with something and you feel you need some kind of concrete action for closure, go ahead and send me a message. I'll do what I can and provide advice - but it will never be illegal just so you know.

So, today, I'm a little less...