Originally, I had another subject in mind when thinking about this week’s post. March is MS (Multiple Sclerosis) Awareness month. I have MS, I should be writing about it. It makes the most obvious sense. However, this morning’s run changed the trajectory of it. I had a PTSD moment, one that I hadn’t experienced in a LONG time. Instead, I will be writing about the day I was sexually assaulted and the ways it changed my life. Excuse me, he could only be charged with physical assault because my attacker was not able to accomplish what he had in mind that day. Since this subject is heavy and very layered, I will break up the post into two parts. Part 2 of this post will be published next week.

It was August 2019 and the world was pre-Covid. Life with my ex was exhausting, soul crushing, and the cause to most, if not all, of my anxiety. So is the burden of living with a spouse who suffers from addiction. It was our son’s first day of school. He was starting TK (Transitional Kindergarten) later that morning. After years of an unpredictable schedule, my ex promised he would be “back to normal” by the time our son started school. I wish I’d listened to my gut when it sounded off alarms that “going back to normal” was anything, but normal. Coulda, woulda, shoulda.

I set my alarm early, as was my routine, to go for a run along Euclid Ave. in Upland, CA. I had run this trail since first moving to Rancho Cucamonga from Long Beach, CA. It was a place that was sacred to me. When tension at home made it feel as though it was impossible to breathe, I would run. Beautiful, tall trees line the trail. Euclid Ave. allowed me to run in nature, but still be near civilization in case I happened to fall and become injured. (MS things. Fun stuff.) Being outdoors is the ultimate healing environment. Running was a way to practice gratitude that my legs still worked and also provided a way to process the enormous shit show I was having to live with on a daily basis. As I headed downstairs, I realized I had not seen my ex go to bed.

When I got to the kitchen, I could hear him in the garage. The garage became my Hell on Earth. It was the location of horrendous arguments, lies, and ultimately where my marriage had died. I opened the door and saw him in his usual corner. He had transformed the garage into a maze of tools, materials, and items that had been purchased on a high. These items ranged from TV’s to toys for our son and everything in between. I felt something snap inside me. How dare he not even attempt to make our son’s first day of school a positive memory! Even though he broke every promise, I still believed him. At least I acted like I did. Part of me was desperate for something to finally be true. (That never came to be.)

We began arguing intensely. He was screaming the usual insults at me. I was a bitch, a cunt, and a shitty person. I screamed back he was a horrible husband, father, and that our marriage was not going to survive a life where this had evolved to the norm. Our son didn’t start school until late morning, so I grabbed the car keys and drove to the place that was as calming as popping a Xanax. Euclid Ave.

Any woman can speak to the unwanted attention of males. Your shoulders shoot up to your ears, your entire body tenses, and there is that twinge of fear deep down inside. The “what-if-moments” that make us begin planning what we would do if this were going to be “the time”. (You all know EXACTLY what I am talking about.) Most of the time it is innocent, but then there are times it is taken too far. WAY too far; as in illegal too far. The day I was attacked was not my first run in with someone who thought they could do whatever they like to me.

When I was pregnant with my son I still went on daily jogs and walks. In May of 2014, the area that I lived in was experiencing record breaking fires. People had to evacuate in areas that normally never would. I would sometimes run on the Pacific Electric Trail that was located behind the apartments we lived in. No one was out due to the air quality being extremely poor. Why I chose to go for a walk is something I cannot tell you. But the discipline I have for my physical health is not something I take lightly. It takes priority above all else. My physical movement has a direct correlation to the quality of my life and mental health. Health is wealth. Where’s the lie?

As I was walking I could see a figure in the distance behind me. There are two paths on this trail. One is for pedestrians and the other for cyclists. I was on the side that was for walking and running. When I reached the point where I would normally turn around, I looked to see if the figure was gone. It was! Relief filled my body. I was 8 months pregnant and needless to say I was not running sprints at the time. Just to be safe, I switched to the side that was intended for cyclists. I didn’t see anyone, but then again the air quality was so poor, things were hazy from the smoke. As I got about half way back, the figure appeared. It was a man who was suddenly walking towards me. As he did this, he began to undo his pants. I did not hesitate and called 911. As he came towards me I began to speak loudly and directly at him. A fierce maternal instinct kicked in, overshadowing any fear I had. The dispatcher on the phone was amazing. She instructed me what to do and stayed on the phone until I reached the door of my apartment.

I have concluded the way I carried myself in that moment made him freak out and run. I did not show fear and walked straight towards him like a psychotic game of chicken. I am a Juarez after all. I was raised to NEVER show fear. It did not matter that I was a female. My father instilled the idea in me to never back down. Whether it be female or male did not matter, you did not back down. Period. (I do not recommend this to anyone. This was before I started one on one self-defense coaching and learned what to do when being assaulted.) As I crossed my threshold to safety, my Super Mom cape fell off and I sobbed. I hadn’t been harmed on the outside, but the psychological affects were just beginning.

Where was I? Ah yes, I had grabbed my keys and headed to Upland, CA. Since life as a woman meant dealing with various obstacles only other women could relate to, I became a master at tuning EVERY man out. I started taking one-on-one classes with a former UFC fighter, preparing for the next time someone decided to invade my space. Call it my Pisces senses; I knew it was only a matter of time until I was violated again. I trained over and over until the moves became second nature. Thank God I did this. I fully believe this is what saved me that morning.

I had a routine when I went running. I was never on the phone, carried pepper spray (other things too), and ALWAYS kept myself aware of my surroundings. Arguing with my ex that morning completely threw me off. I was in such a hurry to get away from him, I ran out of the house without grabbing my usual running objects. On the way to the trail I had called my good friend to vent about the morning’s events. When I arrived, I continued to talk on the phone and ignored the voice inside me telling me to talk to her later. I was livid though, so I stayed on the phone and went against my own rules.

I first noticed my attacker when I started out on 19th St. and Euclid Ave. This trail is located in a nice neighborhood in the middle of two busy streets. It was still very early in the morning and the regulars who walk and run there were not out yet. Construction crews began to start their day and that was about it. I knew someone was behind me, but shoved down the feelings that something was off. Even though everything in my body was telling me to run, I continued to act as if nothing was wrong. Get this, I did not want to be rude or seem crazy. Ladies, your intuition is there for a reason. Develop it. Use it. Who gives a fuck if you look “crazy”?

As I talked with my friend I noticed the guy behind me keeping up with me. Was it in my head? Nope. He was definitely keeping the same pace I was. I reached the point to turn around and noticed he was still there. I didn’t stretch like I normally do at this point because I hadn’t run. I wanted to get back to my car as soon as possible. I started coming back down Euclid. I quickened my step to see if he would do the same. He did. At this point I told my friend what was going on. I struggled to stay calm as she began to freak out over the phone. I tried to keep my wits about me and told her to call my ex if something happened to me.

The sun was now fully out and to the left of me in the East. When I crossed 20th St I looked to my right and only saw one shadow. Exhale. It had been in my head! Just as I was about to tell my friend this he grabbed me around my neck with his right arm and pulled me towards him. Almost like a headlock. When an event like this occurs everything slows down, but your mind is going 1,000 miles per second. He started saying things about what he was going to do to me and where he was going to take me. As I struggled to process what was actually happening my training kicked in. “Do enough to get away and run as fast as you can.” This is what my trainer ALWAYS emphasized. Do not engage in any fight longer than you have to. You want to conserve energy to run and the fight may not go in your favor.

Time stood still. I hadn’t even realized I had slipped out of his grip. But then instead of running, I hesitated. This motherfucker had put his hands on me with the intention to do me harm. Wyatt flashed before my eyes, my dad’s words of “Never back down” screamed in my head, and the anger flooded in. I wanted to kill this man. I knew how to do it. My trainer had shown me for emergency situations. In the moment I hesitated he grabbed me again. In my head I was torn between what I should do and what I wanted to do. Then I thought of Wyatt and my trainer’s warning of engaging more than I had to. What if this fight didn’t go my way? It was not worth the risk. I created space between us, turned around, and bolted. Thank you adrenaline.

I ran until I saw people. There was a group of women going for their morning walk. I literally ran straight into them. I blurted out what had just happened and they surrounded me in a circle. Women. Are they not the best? Their nurturing and protectiveness was in unison. I had never met these women before, but it didn’t matter. They rallied around me, one called 911, and the others attempted to comfort me. I was safe, shaken yes, but my body did not go into shock. I didn’t experience the physical affects from the stress of this attack until months later.

Law enforcement ended up catching the man and I identified him. The police officer that helped me was kind and understanding. He informed me the man who had attacked me wouldn’t be detained longer than a day because he wasn’t able to actually rape me. Lucky me. He would only be charged with assault and maybe some smaller charges. Even though he had every intention of raping me, my attacker would be free later that evening. The thought of this enraged me, but it was my son’s first day of school and I was not going to miss it. I collected myself and was able to act like I was enjoying his first day in TK.

Truthfully I was dying inside. The first day of school is chaotic and there are many people. The last thing I wanted to do was be around a large crowd. I wanted to crawl into bed and fall apart, however being a mom doesn’t always allow for those much-needed instances. My ex tried to be supportive, but given the fact we had just argued earlier, and why we had argued, his support fell on deaf ears. This didn’t absolve him of breaking another promise. If anything it added to my resentment that was growing for him. He stayed blissfully unaware of this. I couldn’t help think that none of this would have happened had I not rushed out of the house that morning. I stopped arguing with him that day, but the walls I was building around me became stronger, their foundations deepened. This event brought to light a reality I had not fully accepted. His actions were putting his family’s safety at risk in a way it never had before. It was unacceptable.

This is where I stop for now. As I write I am forced to relive the events again. It’s HEAVY. They will always be apart of me. Scars left by people who felt it was their right to do, as they like, not giving a fuck about the lives they were inflicting pain on. Part 2 will be coming next week.

Stay safe everyone.