I could probably just call it an honest post, but as much as it helps, writing this also tears me apart.
Last week was the 10 year anniversary of the most horrible thing I’ve ever experienced.
On May 18th, 2002, just one week before my senior prom, I was sexually assaulted. I was held at knifepoint and humiliated, degraded, and violated in a way that I can never forget.
To this day, I still can’t use the R word to describe what happened to me. It reminds me of police stations and giving statements and trying so hard to scrub my body clean after what happened.
It makes me think of the emergency room and the tests and the nurses all trying to calm me down and tell me it would be ok. Of two failed suicide attempts because I didn’t think my life was worth living anymore.
It wasn’t ok.
It still isn’t ok.
Ten years later, I’ve moved on with my life, but I can never forget the damage that’s been done to me.
I have flashbacks when I see large knives.
I have nightmares, though not as frequently as I used to.
I know there is evil in the world, and sometimes it cannot be stopped.
But I’m here. It’s been 10 years since it happened and I’m still here. I’ve overcome most of the guilt, most of the self-hate, most of the doubts that I must have done something to deserve what he did to me.
It’s been 10 years, and I’m still taking it one day at a time.