Once upon a
time, there was a girl; she was kind and strange. She was goofy, and she loved
everyone around her. She loved people with everything she had; she loved people
in a deep, unconditional way that is rare, even in fully developed relationships.
Her downfall was the fact that she loved too deeply, and she saw the good in
people, even when there was no good to be seen. One day, her world fell apart
due to unparalleled tragedy. Her life spiraled out of control as she sat and
watched, paralyzed and unable to prevent the intense damage that would occur.
I’ll give
you a little hint about this story: I was this girl.
I came to
college naïve and optimistic. I genuinely believed that there was good in
everyone, and I loved the people around me too deeply. Even two years later and
after events that permanently changed my life, I still see the good in people
and love far too deeply.
In February
of 2015, I was sexually assaulted. It wasn’t like a scene from a movie, where
an unfamiliar man snatched me off of the street and assaulted me. It was a
person who I knew and trusted.
After it
happened, I knew that he did something wrong, but I didn’t know how to define
what occurred. Since I didn’t have a name for it, I assumed that I was
over-reacting. When people asked me what was wrong, I brushed them off and said
I was fine. They seemed to believe me, despite the fact that I collapsed into a
heap on the kitchen floor and cried, ignoring the people who attempted to
console me.
In the days
and even months that followed, I plastered a smile on my face and painted on a
facade; I tried to pretend that I was okay. I didn’t realize at the time that
my facade was cracked, like a windshield that had been hit by a baseball.
Everyone could tell that something was wrong, but no one could figure out what
that something was.
Everyone –
including myself – sat by helplessly as I spiraled out of control. I began
self-destructive habits to manage my pain, and the ugly monsters of mental
illness reared their heads. As a result of the assault, I acquired depression
and anxiety, which led to a striking mixture of numbness and throbbing pain.
The anxiety developed into panic attacks, which left me frozen and defenseless,
drowning in my own emotions. In order to control these horrible monsters, I
began to drink. People didn’t realize that I generally spent three to five
nights of the week drinking to try to numb the throbbing pain that didn’t seem
fixable. I stopped eating as a result of the anxiety, and in a few short
months, I lost eighteen pounds: transforming my body, which was already very
skinny, into what seemed like a walking skeleton. I also stopped sleeping due
to the anxiety, which left me constantly exhausted.
When summer
came, I thought that this horrible spiral would come to an end, but it only
became worse. I would spend all day lying in my bed, often crying silently in
an attempt to keep my family from noticing. My abstinence from food became
worse, until I was barely eating once a day: I had to stay seated or laying
down to prevent myself from passing out. My depression worsened; I was left
tragically and utterly defenseless.
One day, I
decided that I didn’t want to feel the pain anymore. I didn’t want to face this
overwhelming sense of hopelessness anymore. Something within me snapped. My
mother noticed all summer that something was profoundly wrong with me, but I
finally disclosed that I wanted to physically harm myself in an attempt to stop
my pain.
My family
automatically brought me to the hospital, where I was involuntarily admitted to
the behavioral health unit. I spent the next two days there, surrounded by
people battling schizophrenia and raging drug addictions. While I was in the
hospital, I finally disclosed what happened to me to my doctor. I felt like a
weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. He told me that in order to be
released, I had to tell my parents.
My parents
came to the hospital the next day for our “group therapy session”. I
reluctantly told them about what happened to me. The looks on their faces are
burned onto my brain: looks riddled with shock and pain. I will never forget
the way my mom cried, or the way that my dad looked utterly heartbroken.
Despite the sadness of the situation, I felt like I was finally free from the
ghost that had been haunting me for months.
I began the
healing process, which started slowly at first, but became easier with each
day. Every day was a new battle. That’s the strange thing about grief: some
days are happy, some are numb, some are sad, and some are angry. Even over a
year later, there are still days that are difficult, days where I cry, and days
when I don’t want to get out of bed.
Being
sexually assaulted was the worst thing that ever happened to me. It shattered
my world into a pile of unrecognizable shards. It also, however, turned me into
a much stronger person. With the love and support of my friends and family, I
picked up the broken pieces of my life and put them back together. They slowly
but surely assembled into a steadfast, new being.
Through
tragedy, I learned to be a stronger person. I learned that nobody -- no matter
what they do to you -- can break you. I learned that some friendships could not
handle the strain of something so painful, but the ones that can survive it become
so much stronger and beautiful.
I still
believe that people are good; I just learned not to create goodness where it
doesn’t belong. I still love people too deeply; that will probably never
change.
In the past
year and a half, I went to hell and back. I danced with the devil, and I think
he enjoyed my company, seeing he didn’t want to let me go or escape the pain I
was feeling.
I survived.
Yes, I
survived.
You see, I
learned that people are truly resilient, and they can handle anything that life
throws at them. No matter what you are going through, you can survive. No, you will survive. You will become a stronger version of
yourself than you ever thought possible.
So go on.
Fight. Face your demons head on. Go down swinging. Even when you feel like
you’re losing or you’re not going anywhere, remember that you are becoming
stronger. You are becoming strong and brave and fearless. When the battle seems
tough, don’t forget about the people who love and support you; they will be
your greatest allies.
Above all,
remember that you will survive.
