I've been writing a lot about the rape and my feelings around it per my director's instruction. It got me feeling charged up about my (still!) unprocessed rape kit. I got the balls to call about it today. To be honest, it's confusing to call. Because it's been a year and a half now and I'm in a much different place. I have a job, I'm settled in my own place, I've been through a lot of therapy, I've performed twice about the rape -- I've waaaay moved on from the initial shock and trauma. So what's the use in calling? Calling about my rape kit has that joyful, magical touch of putting me right back to the place that I was the day I was raped. Powerlessness. To the justice system. So who cares, just move on, Heather. That's the stronger thing to do. But then I think, what if they processed it and they forgot to contact me. What if there were results? Maybe calling is the stronger thing to do?
The third inspector on my case talked to me for awhile. He said that my kit was still shelved in Nor Cal. The suspect's DNA still at SFPD. No funding at this time for "my type of case." He promised it would eventually be processed though and that I would be notified no matter what. He said that even if there was no match that the DNA found on me would go into a national DNA database of offenders so that if the offender were to re-offend and be id'ed, the DNA found on me would match up. He didn't have any idea how long it would be. I purposefully turned off any feelings for this conversation. I disassociated from myself. I hung up, I just stared at my computer screen for awhile. I blinked a lot. I cracked my back.
Now I'm writing this entry and then I'm writing for my piece some more.
It's not worth feeling anything. I won't let this affect me. Not. Worth. It!!