Editor’s note: The following is a Victim Impact Statement that was read aloud in court following the conclusion of Patrick Durocher’s rape trial in February. Durocher was sentenced to three to five years in prison on Feb. 19, and the following impact statement was submitted to the Collegian for publication by the victim. The name that appears in the statement is a pseudonym, as the Massachusetts Daily Collegian does not identify victims of sexual assault.

Friday, Feb. 5, 2016.  Two years, five months and two days later, the man who sexually assaulted me was convicted. Patrick Durocher was found guilty on two accounts – rape and assault and battery. At his sentencing, I was given the opportunity to read a Victim Impact Statement to the court.

A Victim Impact Statement is the sole time and place that the criminal justice system allows for the victim to discuss how the crime has affected them: personally, physically, mentally, socially or however it may be. Victims can choose to read their statement to the court themselves or have it read for them by the prosecutor.

I chose to attend the court session and read my statement myself. My family came with me for support, and aside from my testimony, this was one of the most distressing, difficult, yet rewarding experiences I have had to face.

It was an uncomfortable experience. Also present in the courtroom was the accused, his family, friends, his legal team, the prosecution, the judge and her staff, journalists, other lawyers and of course my parents. To stand up and speak about how my life has been ruined, how I have struggled and how I have been deflated by sexual assault in front of this group of people was one of the most intimidating things I have ever done. It is not often that we reveal our suffering and insecurities plainly and explicitly before an audience. To do so publicly, and before the very person who has caused so much suffering, was unsettling and somewhat humiliating.

However, I chose to read my statement myself because I wanted my words to be my own. I didn’t want them coming out of someone else’s mouth. I didn’t want them read out loud by someone who has not lived through what I have these past two years, who has not been subject to sexual assault, who could not know what I am trying to convey. While this experience does not define who I am, it has played a large part in shaping who I am today. I have gone through ups and downs and I wanted to use this chance to speak out on my behalf and share through my own words, just how much this one event has impacted my life.

A stolen identity

My name is Jane. I used to know what that meant. But today it’s solely my name. The character and personality that it used to possess no longer exists; that identity was stolen from me. And in the cruelest of ways.

I was a happy-go-lucky 19-year-old, a social butterfly, a confident girl – a sister, a daughter, a friend, an athlete and a student. I was strong, independent and always saw the glass as half full. I was a full-time college student entering my sophomore year, excited to continue my education and work toward earning my degree, so that one day I could have the job of my dreams. I knew that I only had three more years of college left, so I had better keep putting forth my best effort so I could set myself up for a bright future. I was trying to be the best version of myself that I could be. That was the 19-year-old Jane.

Then I was raped. To this day it is still hard for me to even utter those words. I never thought it would happen to me. Not me, not Jane. After the initial shock and realization set in, after all the medical exams, after the endless meetings with the police, giving statements and taking photographs; I thought that was it. I thought it was over. I put it out of my mind – only speaking of “the incident,” as I began to refer to it, when I had to. But that wasn’t it – it wasn’t over.

Being raped has impacted my life in every possible way. I am now a shell of my former self, a mere speck of the brave girl that used to be Jane. And while I may put on a front of being a happy, goofy, strong, self-assured girl, it is merely a front. My way of life, my self-esteem, self-confidence, self-respect and dignity had been stripped away from me. And while I didn’t see it as it was happening, now looking back on the past couple of years of my life, it has become so clear that the 19-year-old Jane no longer exists.

Physical impact

When I woke up that Monday morning in the hospital, I didn’t recognize or feel like myself.  I was bruised, sore, and weak; I was physically aching all over. I felt violated, dirty and empty.  Not only from being attacked, but also from the extensive physical examination the attack required me to go through. All the prodding and open access to my body left me feeling so humiliated and violated. Leaving school and going home for a couple weeks seemed like the only option; I was uncomfortable and embarrassed walking around in public, as the attack was visibly written all over my body.

Emotional impact

After a few weeks at home, once I was able to heal and spend some time with my family, I headed back to school, ready to go back to living my normal life.

I thought by just ignoring what had happened and not talking about the attack, it would go away.  How I dealt with it was by not dealing it. But it wasn’t that easy. Because I was keeping all my emotions in, never talking about anything at all, I began to redirect my stress and anger onto other people and other things; the smallest things set me off and my mood would change at the tip of a hat.

I became very sensitive; I was either angry or sad all the time and I slowly started to lose sight of myself. My friends and family became worried. I was acting very differently and out of character; they knew something was wrong.

I wasn’t happy at school. I went home every chance I got, just so I could get away. It felt safe. It was the perfect excuse to not have to go out or put myself in an uncomfortable, unknown social setting.

It took me a while to come to terms with, but I eventually realized I was depressed. I went to therapy here and there, but even still, I was so unhappy and angry all the time and I couldn’t seem to shake it. My self-image and self-confidence was shot. I didn’t have that same level of self-comfort, especially when I was out in social situations.

I began to lean toward exercise and eating to regain control over my body I had lost that night; I thought that through constant exercise and healthy eating I could feel better and confident in myself again. But what started out as simply healthy habits apart of my daily routine slowly became obsessive. Obsessive to the point where I developed a serious eating disorder I still struggle with today and even more severe body image issues.

Last February, when I was a mere 98 pounds, I still thought I was too big, not good enough.  Even to this day, when I look in the mirror I don’t like what I see. I am not comfortable in my own skin and this is something that won’t just go away. What little self-confidence and value I hold myself to is something that when I was attacked was truly taken from me. An everyday struggle I don’t know when I will be released from.

And trust. My trust in people is all but destroyed. It is hard for me to believe people are genuine, that they have honest intentions. I have constant doubts about people; my faith in the honest man is lost and it takes a lot to let someone in. For a long time I was ashamed and embarrassed of what happened. I just figured people would pity me, look down on me or think less of me, and I didn’t want any of that.

I didn’t want to open up to people and talk to them about my daily internal struggles, out of fear of being a burden. I didn’t want people to feel like they had to listen. But I also feel like when people don’t know this happened to me, they don’t truly know me. They can’t understand why I am the way I am and why I do the things I do and act the way I act. There is such a fine line and it’s hard to tell when it’s OK to trust and let people in again. For me to open up and put myself out there and let people in to the real me, is hard especially when trust almost doesn’t exist to me anymore. And it’s all a result of the night I was attacked.

But in the end, it has not all been bleak. I have found ways to cope and I have had the extraordinary good fortune to have the unwavering support and love from my family and friends who have always stood by me. I have had excellent professional help and support, too.

However, the impacts of sexual assault continue to affect me years later on a daily basis. And not even just me, but my family and friends too. By no means has it been easy for any one of them to not only see my struggle through these last two and a half years, but also for them to see just how cruel of a place the world can really be.

Not a day goes by when what was done to me does not interfere with my life or limit the life I lead in some way. Sexual assault has cost me profoundly, in many ways, and has created a different life from the one I would have had, had I not been assaulted.

I have lost so much and many of those losses cut right to the core of who I am and can never be undone. With all of this in mind, and in light of the verdict, I can only hope and pray his sentence reflects the crime he committed, that any time he spends put away for his actions will allow for reflection and understanding that what happened is not okay. And I hope that for all parties involved, both his family and my own, today can be a new start and we can all begin to heal.