Regret. They say it is the saddest word in the English language. In fact, I’ve heard many a person say their goal is to “live without regrets.” (Winner of the irony award is “Hero” Hayden Paniettiere. She got this phrase tattooed in Italian on her back. It was misspelled. So now it effectively means “I regret this tattoo” – while a motto I can totally get behind, it is probably not what she intended. Which is why I always say if you are going to get ink done, best to get it done in your own language. That and be very wary if someone offers you a “free” tat.) But back to living without any regrets. I ask you: is this possible? Is there truly someone out there who regrets nothing?
Because it sure isn’t me.
I regret tons of things. I regret things I ate. Things I didn’t eat. Phone calls from friends I didn’t answer. PR e-mails I did answer. Heck, half the time, by the end of the day I regret the clothing I put on that morning. (Does anyone else have this problem? I swear I start out the day thinking I look fine but I pass a mirror at 4 p.m. and want to run screaming back into my closet. Maybe that’s why I have too many clothes.) But what I regret most of all is the whole situation with my ex-boyfriend. Most people understand that I regret ever meeting him, ever falling for him, ever dating him. Of course people understand that I regret going out with him – against my better judgment – that darkest of nights. But when I say I regret everything to do with him, I mean everything. I regret talking to the police. I regret the court case. I regret what I wrote in my affidavit. I regret what I said in my victim’s impact statement. I regret his sentencing. I even regret his punishment.
Most people do not understand that level of regret.
If I could undo it all, from the very beginning, I would. Some people say that being sexually assaulted has made them a stronger person and while I have indeed learned much from the experience I would not echo that sentiment. It was vile from start to finish and I still feel tainted by it.
Sitting in a tiny conference room just off the courtroom during a break in the proceedings and watching the other victims who testified in various stages of a nervous breakdown is one of the most vivid memories I have of my court experience. The prosecutor had herded us all back there to give us one last round of instructions: “Don’t be afraid to show some emotion. Let the court know how hurt you are! Crying’s fine. Crying’s great, actually. But not too much. Don’t get hysterical or they won’t be able to understand you.”
We all interpreted that differently. One of us was so angry that she kept turning away from the microphone to yell at G. Another wept so hard that we could barely make out anything she said. As for me, I clenched my jaw so tightly I saw stars and had a headache for two days afterward. All of us were hysterical. It didn’t help that the court had seen fit to seat him directly behind the podium all of us were to speak at. If I had sat down I would have been in his lap. The memories that triggered were not pleasant ones. Still, I remember peering at him intently as I turned to walk back to my seat. He didn’t look up at me. Not even once. His father, the only person who had accompanied him to court that day, sat behind him with one hand over his eyes. It was as if they thought they could will me out of existence. It almost worked.
I did not feel good about what I had done. And yet the prosecutor congratulated us all as he herded us back into that little sterile room. “Just you wait until the sentencing. He’ll get what he deserves. Prison is not kind to sex offenders.” There was a joke of the don’t-drop-the-soap variety and a small chorus of chuckles. This did not make me feel better.
What did he deserve? I just finished reading a heart-rending book called “Chasing Justice” by Kerry Max Cook. Cook served 20 years on death row for allegedly brutally raping and killing a woman – a crime he did not commit and was exonerated of two decades later. His tale of prison life – including, yes, the shower rapes and other sexual abuses he suffered – was so disturbing to me that I almost couldn’t finish the book. Some would say a man convicted of his caliber of crime deserves such treatment. I don’t think any human being, even a guilty one, deserves that.
I have tried ever since my own experience not to imagine what life was like in prison – the prison that I helped put him in – for my ex-boyfriend. I never wished for him to be sexually assaulted by another inmate or guard. I never wanted him to pay for his crimes in kind. What I wanted was simple: I wanted him to stop hurting people, including himself, and I wanted him to get help. It’s all I ever wanted for him from the day I first saw him for what he was. If it took the legal system to accomplish this then so be it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t regret it.
I didn’t do any of it to punish him. I never wanted retribution.
And yet he was punished. And I was paid back – literally. Did he deserve the punishment he got? Was it enough? Was it too much? Did he get the help he needed? I’ll never know. And honestly, I don’t want to know. After all, unlike the much-maligned Cook, G. did sexually abuse at least 9 women and girls that I personally know of (although only three testified against him in court). Something had to be done. I realize that there are other vast differences between the two cases – the matter of scale, obviously – and yet it brought up the question again that I have never, in all the years since, been able to answer for myself: Did I do the right thing?
I wish I could be self-righteous in my victimhood. Indignant. Vindicated. That’s how I’m supposed to feel, right? Anything but ambivalent. Anything but regretful. But the fact remains: many mistakes were made and some of them were mine.
At least you know that some mistakes were yours. That's hard to admit. I know because I absolutely hate letting people know that I know I made a mistake.
Chin up. You're a doll.
No one can tell you how to feel, it just happens naturally. There is no right are wrong way about it…it just is.
You are such a strong woman! Not everyone has the ability to face their emotions with that kind of brutal honesty. Life without regrets, maybe not (doubt most people can truthfully claim that one), but we can pick up the pieces and move forward…
How you feel is not up to other people to decide. When I was reading this, I kept thinking how great and wonderful of a person you were that you regretted depriving someone of his freedom to protect others. To me, that's stronger and braver than taking the same action because you wanted revenge.
I consider myself a girl who lives a life without regret. I don´t even regret eating that cookie! Life without regret does not mean "perfect life". Just a guiltfree one. I used to regret EVERYTHING until I realized that that horrid guilt was dictating the way I lived. So I said, eff it. The only one who gets a say in what I do or not is my heart.
When I do something "oh not so good or perfect" I just have to think: What´s done is done and go onto the next thing. It takes practice but it works and really makes me a happy woman!
Hope you can sometime find peace with what happened to you and the way you reacted to it. Personally, when I read what you have to say I know a very brave woman wrote that. And she should learn to take the good things and take the what´s done is done attitude with the others.
all the best!
I wish I could be like Carooo, but I'm problably somewhere in the middle of you and C. I do feel guilty all the time. There's really only a few things I would change, but the rest? I do think I had to have that struggle. Then again, thankfully, I've never had the kind of trauma you have had either.
Thank you for sharing your story. I agree with Tricia – it's your feelings. They're neither bad nor good…they are what they are and you're allowed to feel how you feel.
If only most (or more) people had your capacity for compassion, the world would be a much better place.
But speaking of wrongful convictions…isn't it terrible that the Supreme Court has ruled recently that convicts do not have the right to DNA testing? DNA tests have exonerated many wrongfully convicted people, including many on death row. And yet the Supreme Court has decided that once someone has been convicted, justice no longer mattered.
Oh, Charlotte – you are so good-hearted! I hope that your ex-boyfriend got some kind of counselling/treatment while serving his sentence, but I highly doubt it. The sad truth is that he probably just learned to be more subtle.
You did the right thing by testifying against him to try to get him to stop hurting women. That alone should help assuage your guilt.
Charlotte, I wish I had wise words for you. Heck, I'd even settle for kind-of-smartish words. But truly I don't know what to say other than that you are totally entitled to feel WHATEVER you feel. (RickyRae said it better: there is no right or wrong way about it.)
But you have a whole community of people out here who support you unequivocally. *hugs*
I don't remember things the way you do. I feel like it's all a fog. I don't remember yelling at him, but I do remember overwhelming anger when I saw him. That he had hurt so many people. Maybe I was the one crying.
Still, like you, I live with the regret of knowing that he went to prision because I turned him in. It freaks me out to this day to think of what he may have gone through in there. I try to tell myself that he deserved it, but no one does. I just wanted him to get help, to be stopped. He was my friend, and I can't forget that he was my friend. He had a weakness, I know, but he wasn't all bad. I have to thank you for standing with me. For being strong enough to speak up. I couldn't have done it on my own.
Everything I can think to say seems so trite and meaningless, so I'll just say this. You are an amazingly compassionate and strong person. All you can do is move forward and keep being that amazing person. All we can really control is the next choice we make.
Thank you for a brilliantly honest account of your experience. I believe you speak for many including myself. It's painful to be an accuser even when it's "right". Thank you so much for this blog.
Just letting you know that I'm reading.
And thank you.
My therapist told me that is what compassion is…
I'm sure that it did make you stronger in some way … it's just such a difficult memory to think about that it may not seem like it's had any sort of effect like that.
I can't imagine the gamut of emotions that follow something like a sexual assault. Reading about your experience is heartwrenching and so real. Again, I'm so glad you choose to share it.
I have no right to even tell you what to think or offer any comments beyond you have the right to feel the way you want to feel after this. It happened to you & I just hope that writing about it helps your pain.
The prosecution can take pleasure that they did their job and convicted a violent offender – they did their job. For us, our job is to transcend to be in communion with the Infinite as we understand it. The thoughts of self-righteousness, vindication, etc., keep us focused on the events of the world and away from that which helps us transcend and heal. As a victim, the work is to incorporate and integrate the event into the fabric of our life – grieving our loss of innocence because of the execution of violence of which anyone is capable but nearly everyone chooses to suppress.
You are one of the bravest people I know. I admire you more and more with every post.
Charlotte, you are AMAZING!!!!!
No one has the right to tell you how to feel. Everything you are feeling is valid and no one else's business unless you choose to share them. Your compassion and bravery are inspiring!
Thank you so much for sharing your story. I feel exactly the same way about my own experience. I’ve learned so much from the experience but they’re all things I feel I could have lived my whole life without knowing, like the excessive empathy and the low self-esteem.