The Great Escape

I was having a conversation today with a friend I had made since my assault (she's someone I connected with on Tumblr. She's awesome) and she brought up how she has dealt with her own assault.  We compared notes on a ton of different things when we got to the subject of suicide.  **This is where I urge you to stop reading if you get upset easily, or think you might have a meltdown on me**

She was telling me that she had attempted to kill herself three times within 6 months of her assault, but that something always seemed to get in the way.  She asked if I had ever dealt with anything like that which is when I told her something I have never told anyone ever. Not my parents, not my sisters, not my best friend, not my therapist.  Before this afternoon there was only ever one other person in the world (besides myself) who knew that I had attempted suicide December 2011.

Everyone seems to know the story about how in October 2011 I sat on my bathroom floor staring at a bottle of pills, when Whitney called and urged me to come over and spend time with her.  Everyone knows that I obliged.  Everyone knows that that one night spent with my best friend is the reason I made it through the weekend.  Everyone knows she pretty much saved my life.

I never told anyone in the weeks after that, that I would drive down the road, find a patch of trees and be tempted to run off of the road straight into them.  A simple solution to a complex problem.  I was usually able to shake that thought out of my mind.  I was never able to think "no. i'd be better off alive".   No, what stopped me every time was the thought of "what happens if all I do is get hurt, and it doesn't happen how I want it to?"  Kind of a crappy way to think, huh?

Anyway, December was a tough month for me that year.  I had a part time job and wouldn't be able to go home for Christmas.  This was the first time in my 21 years of life I hadn't been with my family for Christmas.  I was miserable almost that entire month, except from the day my mom arrived tiitl I ended up in the hospital.

The friend I am about to talk about asked that he not be named.  He doesn't want credit for what I'm about to explain, and he doesn't want people to talk to him about it.  He said he doesn't mind if I post it on here but that it's something that he just doesn't like to discuss.

I scared him.  I didn't want to.

One day he had called me and asked how I was doing and I said fine.  I was very short with him and we didn't have a very long conversation.  I had a plan, and I didn't want him to ruin it.  I was afraid if I talked to him for too long I would spill my guts and he would come over and try to be a hero. I hung up with him and about two hours later he texted me saying that he felt like I wasn't doing very well.  My response to him was "I'll be perfect pretty soon."  I don't know how, but that sent up the biggest red flag and he knew trouble was a brewin'.  He hopped in his car and came right over.  One of my roommates was on her way out right when he knocked on the door.  I was sitting on the floor of my bathroom with a bunch of old painkillers.

I heard them have a brief conversation.  I knew he was coming for me.  She let him in and left and I panicked.  I opened those bottles and grabbed a bunch of medication out of them.  I popped as many as I could into my mouth right as he busted through the bathroom door (we didn't have locks so it wasn't that hard).

I don't remember all of what happened next super clearly. I remember him grabbing my mouth and wrenching it open.  He scooped what he could out of my mouth.  I had only managed to swallow one or two pills.  I started screaming at him.  He was very calm and picked up every medication I had.  He then proceeded to dump every single medication in my bathroom into the toilet.  When I say every single one I mean EVERYTHING....the ibuprofen, the painkillers, everything but the antidepressants.  I remember beating on his back with my fists at first out of anger, and then out of panic.  I begged him to leave and let me do what I intended to do.  He flushed the toilet and my only hope was gone.

I screamed at him and kept repeating "What did you do!?!? You ruined everything! I hate you!"

He stayed with me that weekend, making sure I took my prozac, and making sure I didn't take anything else.  He confiscated my razors so I didn't shave my legs for like 3 weeks (my moustache grew out those weeks too :D )  And he drove me to the health center the next Monday where they upped my medication because I told them I had been having thoughts of self harm (no way in hell was I going to tell them I tried it).

He really did save my life, and I really am grateful for it.  I never really told anyone about that day because I didn't want mass panic to ensue.  But honestly? It's been such a long time now and I'm so over that part of my healing that it doesn't even matter.

I've come to the conclusion that if I'm going to share as much as I have thus far, that I may as well be totally and completely honest.

I like my life now, and I wouldn't cut it short for anything.

:)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Wl5-audkPY

*Under the following line I am posting my story...the original explanation of my rape.  I'm doing this because some of you started reading this well after my original post and have been asking me about it.  Reposting it is so much easier than repeating myself a thousand and eighty times!*
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On May 5, 2011 I went to a small party at a friend's apartment. I thought I would have a great night, I never expected my life to be completely turned upside down. By midnight there were only 5 of us left. We were drinking, laughing, listening to music, arguing about who would buy everyone pizza. One of his roommates was pretty cute in my opinion and I flirted with him like crazy. He flirted right on back and I really ended up liking him. He was funny, liked the same type of music and just seemed like a genuinely nice guy. I ended up kissing him....a lot, and after a while I noticed my friend being weird and just staring at us. When his roommate asked if I'd rather go upstairs where my friend wasn't being a total creep I agreed. There was a living room area up there and I felt safe with him. Biggest mistake of my life. To make a long story short, we ended up in his bedroom where he raped and threatened to kill me for 2.5 hours. The longest 2.5 hours of my life. I walked out of that room shaking and immediately asked my friend to take me home. 20 Minutes after he dropped me off he called to ask what happened. After I told him everything he told me that he was not blaming my rapist because I had been drinking and should have been more careful. I took a shower and went to bed. The entire next day I replayed what happened in my head. Had I wanted it? Was what happened to me ok? Why did I feel so disgusting? Was I that drunk? I was afraid to call the police because I wouldn't be 21 for a couple of more weeks and I didn't want to get in any trouble. After many hours, and 3 showers trying to scrub the disgust off of me, I called a friend and confided in her. Her reaction? "He RAPED you! Call the police I'll be there in 15 minutes." I will never forget that. Thank you Cassy for being there for me that night. The police came and took a statement and asked if I wanted to press charges. I did. I was then taken to the ER where I sat from 10:30pm until 8:30 am being poked and prodded, interviewed again and again. Going through the trauma of a rape kit in the hopes I could get some justice. I called my mom and finally broke down. The next week was filled with police interviews and physical healing. I was starting to realize that though my physical bruises were healing, I had a long road ahead of me for the mental and emotional bruises. In June I got the call that despite efforts from the detective working on my case, the coward who changed my life would never be formally charged or arrested.

In October 2011 I became so depressed I wanted to kill myself. I was about to do it when a friend called and invited me over that night, not taking no for an answer. I truly believe that phone call is what saved my life. After that I started seeing a psychiatrist and was put on anti depressants and medication for anxiety. I slowly started returning to my "normal" self with a lot of help from therapy. In January I took a few steps back when I ended up in the Cone Behavioral Health hospital after a misunderstanding with my therapist at the time. That experience was terrifying to me....mainly because I had felt I shouldn't be there. After a change of therapist and medications I began feeling a lot better. In March my car was keyed and my tires slashed....I can only assume it was the jerks involved in my assault, which brought me back to an awful place. I was stalked and harassed and forced to leave my home. I no longer felt safe.

After moving in April I began to REALLY piece my life back together. I got a call in June that the guy who raped me was accused of raping another girl somewhere else. Her case was dropped as well.

Why am I putting all of this on the internet? Why am I telling you people? Because I have the hope that one day someone will see this and know that if I survived they can too. Did all of this suck? Hell yeah it did. Did I make it? Yes. Do I have a lot to look forward to? Absolutely. There are a lot of stories in the media about rape and sexual violence and I've realized so many people don't know the statistics, don't know how to handle the information they're given, and think 'that could never happen to me'. I never thought it could happen to me. I lived in a bubble. It sucks that it happened, but it really has made me stronger. And I'm ready to find my voice again. If you're still reading this, I hope you'll join me on my journey...and invite others to join as well. Who knows, maybe someday this could really impact someone.