The more I think about it, the more I realize that even if he hadn't been passed out, chances are he would've been asleep for work the next day. On neither of those nights would he have noticed anything anyway. I mean, it wasn't like I was going to wake him up. No way.
Because then he would've seen how I looked. He would've seen how long I sat in the shower. He would've seen the bruises. He would've seen me bag up all of my clothing, my bra, my panties, everything except my jacket and shoes, and put the bag out with the trash. And I couldn't have that.
My rapist drove it into my brain that if I told anyone what happened, he would make life for me at the base a living hell. He would ruin my Navy career, and everyone on that base (it was a small base) would know what kind of a slut I was. He said he would make sure my husband knew. He also made it clear that he could "get" me again.
So, I guess I can't blame D, and right about now my hatred for him is fading.
Now I'm angry at myself. Maybe if I had told D, it would've brought us closer, and we wouldn't now be on the verge of a divorce. Just maybe if I'd trusted in him, he would've felt closer to me, like I valued him as my husband and protector.
I don't know. Maybe I'm not angry with myself. Maybe that's just me, eager to beat myself up, which I can do over just about anything. Maybe I should just stop thinking about it all for now. Maybe I should run all this by Dr H and see what she thinks.
She really does have good input, and she makes me think things through.
Maybe it's just that I'm redirecting my anger in so many directions right now, and that I should be focusing on the person I'm most angry with. The one I really hate. The one I should blame.
Oh, and D also told me that he would never do anything to hurt me.