Seven Years Ago Today

     Seven years ago today my life changed, in a matter of minutes I was torn to pieces in every way a woman can be. A man (a boy really at 20) who I trusted, who I thought loved me, respected me ripped away what was suppose to be mine to give away to my husband. What was only a few minutes seemed to go on for an eternity, and no matter how much I fought or yelled I couldn't win. I remember running to the bathroom and without thinking turning the shower on as hot as I could tolerate it touching my skin. I spent so long curled up on the floor of that shower that the water went cold, I was in a lot of pain and I watched my own blood wash down the drain as he knocked on the bathroom door asking if I were okay. My nightmare had just come true and the hardest part was that he wouldn't leave, I remember thinking if I came out of that bathroom with him still there he would do it again. After awhile I guess he got the picture and left, and I managed to move from the bathroom floor to my bedroom floor.
     It is hard to even put words to what I was like after that, I stopped being human almost. I had already been struggling with my anorexia and self harm for years at this point, but had never truly given up on life like I did after this happened. I was convinced it was my fault, I broke the rules by letting him in the house, I should have said no more firmly, fought harder...I was disgusting. For the next couple weeks I spent most of my time on my bedroom floor cut up, starved, and swallowing handfuls of meds hoping to not wake up the next morning. My parents didn't really notice, not even the fact that I had stopped sleeping in my bed. My skin was very raw because every time I showered I would try to scrub what I thought was his filth off of me. I stopped taking in what little food and fluids I allowed myself at the time because I wanted to be empty, the thought of anything in me, even nourishment made me sick. It was a very, very dark time and I'm not entirely certain how I even survived at all.
     I slammed hard into my rock bottom, once my doctor found out what happened he immediately hospitalized me under suicide watch...I thought there was no point to even fight anymore, I wanted to die. They had to hold me down to put a feeding tube down my nose to get me some much needed nutrition. It took days of my doctor and two specific friends to help me through, to make me realize that I really didn't want to die. During the process of getting a protection order and filing charges I lived in a Women's Shelter, where I met some amazing women and saw some really awful things. For a month my life revolved around what was going to happen to him, I helped the police, went to court, had to relive what he did over and over, and in the end the prosecutor did not charge him despite having him admit what he did...there would be no justice.
     For over a year after the rape I was a mess, I went absolutely nuts, and what worse I couldn't see how nuts I was. I lost respect for myself, accepted what thought was love from places love didn't exist, I hurt myself, destroyed my body, pushed everyone who gave a crap about me as far away as possible. My mom died a few months after I was raped which only made me more insane. My close friends were telling me how out of control I was and I refused to see it, kept screaming to whoever would listen that I was fine. I ignored the nightmares, pretended I wasn't scared every time I left the house, and the list goes on forever. Before I knew it I was so far gone that I couldn't hide the hate I had for myself, there weren't enough drugs, razors, or no level of restricting that would make me better again. I was so angry, so hurt, and my solution was death. I overdosed my way to the intensive care unit, completely blessed to be alive. Once you slam into the bottom there are two choices...the slow climb back to the top or you just give up completely.
     Two and a half years after that guy broke me I finally made the steps to put myself back together. Believe me when I say it was very slow and full of set backs. I met the man who is now my husband during that slow climb and left the bad place I was in. The old me tried to push him away though, I told my husband I was no good for him, too damaged, and begged him to leave me...he never did. The fact is it takes ten times as long to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart, and boy did I fall apart. It has taken years to accept what happened, to know that it wasn't my fault, and to forgive him for hurting me. Forgiving him has been the most healing part for me because by holding onto the hate I had for him was only allowing me to continue to hate myself. The fact is that I am still here and I survive that event, I came out the other side.
      Today has been seven years, and there are times when the memory is fresh, when I wake up screaming from nightmares, but I've made it through. I am not ashamed of what I went through, I am proud that I survived, and happy to have a loving husband and toddler today. The rape could have ended me, it has ended better women than me, but today is no longer a day of sorrow for me rather a day that I can boldly say I took back my life. If you have been a victim of rape please know that you did nothing wrong, and no matter what lies your brain or abuser told you I can promise you that you are strong. Everyday you get up and face the day you are strong, you are surviving a horrible event, and life will get better. Putting yourself back together, taking your life back is not easy, but it is worth it in the end. He only has power over you if you give it to him, you couldn't stop him from hurting you, but you can stop him from owning your life. I believe in God, I believe that even though he has gotten away with his crime on Earth he will face a different judge someday to explain what he did. Try to let go of the hate because in the end it is only hurting you. He will never earn forgiveness if that is what you are waiting for, you just have to give it, and accept the forgiveness for yourself as well because even though you did nothing wrong you keep beating yourself up, and you don't deserve it. I never thought I could get through this day without a razor or self medicating, but I am. This is my life and I refuse to give that man power over me anymore...today is the day I take my life back, not the day I was a victim.

,

     Before the door closes her mask is already starting to fade, every second seemingly melting away faster and faster threatening to leave her exposed to the world. They think she is doing so well, she has moved on from the damage he did to her months earlier, she is smiling, taking set backs in stride, she is no longer the broken child of the past. Yet they still don't see, even now the dark that flicks in her eyes, only for a moment you can see that she is still in pain, still more afraid than ever...the girl is not okay, maybe has never been okay.
     Now she finds herself trying to beat the night, to be stronger than that voice in her head that is telling her she is nothing, she deserves pain, more pain than anyone else. She avoids any surface that might show her reflection, the reflection of a weak girl, the girl that she hates more than anyone else, more than the man that destroyed her. No one knows how much she hates herself, how much she wants to punish herself for her so many weaknesses, for causing pain to everyone who makes the mistake of caring about her. For some reason she burns every bridge that has miraculously been left up for her, pushing her arms out as far as possible trying to keep everyone away for what she believes to be their own good. How did she get here again?
     Most days it is too much to face the world, she locks the door, keeps the blinds drawn hurting too much to even look at the sun. There are moments when her own breath hurts worse than the years of self abuse she use to pour out on herself. There is no quick fix, no pill that makes it all go away, all there is left is to feel it...feel every searing pain that she has to so she can take one step forward. Too much time pretending and shoving the pain down farther and father thinking it could be controlled. The only way to move on is to feel it, to let it bleed, let it hurt down to the core of your being, and realize that you can survive it. She is surviving, a moment at a time, some days even that can feel like an eternity. She has shutout the handful of people that truly long to stand beside her even when she is broken.
     The sad fact is that it is so easy to fall apart, so easy to let the dark overtake her. It takes all she has to fight, to keep those mended cracks barely together. Every second seems like too ?much, like it will all shatter to the floor once again, and the girl wants so badly to give up in some moments, to let the pain claim her, to give those precious few that care the permission to give up on her. But, there is something inside of her that wants nothing more than to keep going, prays with every fiber of her being that those precious few don't give up on her because they remind her that maybe there is more to think about herself than hate. Just maybe if they don't hate her she doesn't have to hate herself so much.
     She finds herself crying alone in the dark praying for one more chance to climb out of this, to not let everyone down. She prays for the courage to reach out instead of shatter, instead of implode. Has she destroyed everything, pushed them all too far? She isn't strong like she thought, she is terrified, and all there is left is the prayer that she hasn't destroyed it all.