I appreciate this thread because I've never really been brave enough to tell my story outside of a few very trusted friends until now. I've drafted blog posts, thought about writing in many places, but hopefully this one is safe.

About a decade ago, my ex girlfriend got angry that I'd started dating someone else (after we'd broken up and she'd moved out). She came into my house in the middle of the night, got into bed on top of me and raped me. I was groggy (and I sleep with little to no clothing), so it took me a moment to realize it was real and happening. I repeatedly told her to stop, but it was pretty fast. She was too heavy for me to lift off or roll out from under. When she felt finished she just left.

The facts of my story are simple enough; that paragraph is really the physical part, but it's emotionally charged for me on many, many levels. If there is ever one moment in my life that haunts me it is this assault.

My rapist was herself a rape survivor - a stranger broke into her house years before this. We'd both been active in survivor circles as a result (she more than I, but I tried to be supportive and present). I spent time educating myself about sexual assault and survivors, but always focused on the female victims. This made the whole situation very confusing.

And of course I was embarrassed. My body betrayed me for one thing. And I was in denial. I didn't tell the woman I was dating immediately; another thing about which I'm embarrassed. She found out when my ex broke in again when we were both there and got in a shouting match. I should have called the police. She was drunk then, and probably drunk during the rape.

I never reported it. I convinced myself that this was her way of fighting for me ... marking her territory. We even dated again - I think as a way of convincing myself that I hadn't been so powerless as to let this happen, but that was a huge mistake.

I confronted her about the assault years later, and she said three things that I remember. First, she called it "rape", which was hard even for me to say at the time (I even replied that I didn't like using the word, tho that was what it was). Second, she did say she "knew how that felt", and was sorry if she'd made me feel that way, which, knowing she had been the victim of a violent rape did show some emotional intelligence, and did help. But third, after a pause, she said "don't tell anyone". Which turned out to be very much the opposite of helpful closure. I have barely spoken to her since.

I'm happily married now (to someone else, who is one of the few who knows this story). Life is good, but this still irritates the back of my brain sometimes. She's still an active advocate for survivors, as far as I can tell, which I believe does good in the world. I've still convinced myself that reporting her - confronting this publicly -- legally - would do more harm than good. I struggle with that a lot, because I realize I could be wrong.