I think a lot about how I was treated after I was assaulted. In fact, I had a conversation with someone about it just today. Their response to me was "wow....NOW I understand where all of your trust issues come from." There are things in this world that people should not have to endure. Although I am slowly starting to cope with certain things, the harassment I endured after I was assaulted is one of those things that I am stuck on.
When I was in high school I was a bubbly person. I had friends in different circles, I got along with most people, and I was proud to be able to say I had many friends. So when I started college it was difficult for me to start over again. But I did. I struggled to keep in touch with my high school friends, but had become friends with so many people on campus that it didn't really bother me all that much.
Now put yourself in my shoes. You are at a party at the end of your junior year of college. You meet a cute boy at this party. He tells you how beautiful you are (something you don't hear often) and you allow yourself to be charmed. You drink a little too much, he takes advantage of that, and suddenly you find your world has been shattered. Everything you have ever believed in has been ruined. Every dream you have had has been crushed. And the only people you want are your friends. You have a lot of them, so it would be safe to assume you could count on them, right? Wrong. You go home for the summer, you keep your secret from them, you think things will be fine if you just keep your mouth shut.
Suddenly a month after you're assaulted you see things pop up on Twitter about you from people you thought were your friends. "Did you hear what Kayleigh did? #slut" "Accusing innocent people of rape? #whore" These were the same people who just weeks before were saying you were their BFF.
You return to campus in August, ready to start your senior year. You're a little nervous that you'll run into people that you've decided to break away from, but for the most part you are excited. So now I want you to picture your first day back to classes and you're walking through campus calmly and suddenly people start calling you a "bitch" and a "whore" and "slut". You start getting verbally abused by people you know and people you don't know. They threaten to come after you, they tell you you're a liar. So the logical thing to do is go to campus police, right? Campus police tell you they can't do anything and to report it to the dean of students office. You attempt this twice and they don't even let you past the front desk. You go through this torture for an entire semester.
In January you have a meltdown, you are admitted to the hospital and your roommates act like they are concerned for you. But once you're back home they start acting strange, and then they stop talking to you all together which further alienates you and makes you feel helpless.
These are the types of things I have gone through and it sucks. People you love calling you a lying, pathetic drama queen does not boost your confidence in healing. The people who were nice to me until things got tough hindered my recovery. And then there are my favorite people who were sweet to my face in order to get the information they wanted, and then turned around and talked about me behind my back.
If you want to completely shut someone down, abandon them or stab them in the back.
It is so difficult for me to let people close to me. Sometimes some of you get frustrated with me, some of you understand and push on. I don't know how to break myself of any of the behaviors concerning friendships that I've developed.
Another thing I finally verbalized today (and I can't come up with a better way to put this) is that I got screwed over multiple times by all of the people I was always told would help me. The police, my school, doctors, my friends. All of these people were supposed to be supportive, understanding, and helpful. This proved to be a myth. None of them helped. They made things more difficult. Granted, there are a few friends who have been there from the start who showed all of those qualities. Those are the people who proved to me that there was a little good left in the world.
This past year has been hard with all of the changes any college grad would find themselves going through. New job, new relationships, new surroundings. I feel like those were things that made my life increasingly difficult. I found myself just waiting for new friendships to dissolve almost as soon as they started. I felt like I constantly had to explain myself to people. I am finally beginning to realize, though, that I don't owe anyone an explanation. Don't get me wrong, there are times where for some reason I just feel in my heart like I need to open up to somebody. I don't know how to describe it, except for that the feeling is overwhelming and that once I do it I feel good about it.
I feel like this post probably won't make that much sense this evening. I don't feel like proofreading it and my thoughts are kind of jumbled and all over the place, but I really felt a need to get this all down. Maybe if I read it again tomorrow I'll be able to sort my thoughts out a little better!
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Friday, June 21, 2013
" I Like to Keep My Issues Drawn, It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn..."
Sometimes when I am feeling especially anxious or stressed out, I like to do one thing. Get in my car, blast some tunes, and drive out in the country with no destination in mind. It soothes me, I get distracted by belting out song lyrics, and I am able to break through the barriers that were holding me back while I was sitting at home. It's a relaxation tool for me (one some people have voiced concern over) and even though gas is really stinkin' expensive, I will continue to do it until it doesn't help anymore. I know it worries people because of my history of having random panic attacks, but I am smart enough to pull over when that happens.
Today was a day where I tried to relax and ultimately became stressed out. I was so irritated by many things including my medicine making me feel sick, and the hangover the stuff I take for insomnia has been giving me. These are all things that I should have been able to ignore. I've been on all of these meds before, and I know that within the next week or two all of these side effects will wear off. Laying by the pool, which is usually my favorite way to spend a beautiful summer day, turned into a mess of my mind racing, forcing down the lump in my throat, and trying to ignore the gigantic knot in my stomach. I was tired, and angry, and I wanted both feelings to go away. As I trudged back to the apartment I scolded myself. Why are you so upset? Why don't you just suck it up and deal with it?
I found myself sitting on the couch, watching Spongebob, and trying to focus. When that didn't work, I laid down and tried to sleep. I couldn't sleep, but when I finally opened my eyes it had been 2 hours and I felt better. I laid there for 2 hours coaching myself, and singing lyrics to songs that popped into my head. Insanity, is this what you look like? I forced myself to get up and make myself some dinner (I was pretty impressed with myself....lemon pepper shrimp, broccoli, and a potato. Delish!) and watched some more tv. When I was done I was still anxious, so I decided to take a drive.
I was doing really well and enjoying the scenery (I love living in NC!). Then...my mind started to wander. I pulled over in a cemetery and put the car in park. I started thinking about the last time I had sat in a cemetery (one afternoon while having a panic attack, and spilling my guts to someone) which lead to my mind wandering to all of the things I had been through the past few months, and the past couple of years. As if thinking wasn't enough, the Rascal Flatts song " I Won't Let Go" came on my ipod and filled my car...and I lost it. There's a good sized pond where I stopped and I got out of the car and went and sat by the water. I thought about every thought, every action, every emotion I had dealt with. I threw rocks into the water. I cried.
If anyone had come up behind me they would have thought I was crazy. I started saying out loud "Why ME? Why THIS? Why can't I just get over this already? It's not fair! I feel like I'm drowning. I didn't sign up for this fight, I don't want any part of it. Things were so much easier when I had trained myself to push my emotions deep down....why did people have to walk into my life this year and change that? Why do people suddenly care? NO ONE CARED 2 YEARS AGO WHEN I REALLY NEEDED THEM TO." I let it all out. All of the questions and feelings I have carried with me for 2 months were let out into the open.
I sat by that pond for a very, very long time. I calmed down while I sat there and continued to think. Letting all of those emotions take form is something that should have been done ages ago. I have never been comfortable with feelings....I don't like being angry, I don't like being sad, and I really don't like feeling hopeless. My way of coping was to push away those feelings of hurt, fear, and anger and pretend as though they didn't exist. How unhealthy is that? This is one of, I'm sure, many reasons why my rape is still affecting me in the way that it is. It was suggested that when I started feeling anxious again the cause of that stress was testing and drama at work. This is definitely a part of it, but I truly believe that, especially since I am still struggling with these things, the sole reason I can't seem to keep it together again is because I never allowed myself to deal with what happened to me in the first place.
I have walked through the last year acting like it didn't bother me. I never confided in anyone that I was terrified he would come after me again. I never told anyone (until right this second) that I avoid every Food Lion because I was followed by him in one once. I deny being troubled by the fact that I was deserted by so many "friends" who chose to believe a rapist over me. I don't readily admit that I have abandonment issues, but I do. I don't tell people I want or need help when that's all I've really wanted. I refrain from telling people the complete truth about my current actions and feelings in fear that they themselves will become fearful and worrisome for me. I refuse to worry about myself, because it's easier and more in my nature to worry about everyone else. I am a fixer and I despise the feeling that I need someone to help me piece myself back together.
That joyride that ultimately lead to me sitting by some random pond in a random cemetery actually brought me some peace. It's good to get things off your chest, and to think things through. I know that I need to keep pushing forward, and I know it's going to be extremely difficult. I'm going home for a week soon (I'm only partially looking forward to it, because I'm getting my wisdom teeth out and they may not be able to give me anesthesia and that is terrifying) and people keep asking (judgmentally) why I'm going home for only a week. Honestly I feel like this post helps answer that question. I would love to stay and visit for a little longer, but I need my routine. I need a schedule. I need normalcy, and my normal everyday lies here in NC. If I leave for too long I will be extremely apt to stop going to therapy and my psychiatrist. I can't do that. I need to force myself to stick to a semi regular routine and I am afraid of going off of that routine for even a week. It's terrible, and some of you are judging me right now and I don't care. Maybe by next summer I'll be in a much better place and I'll be able to visit my family for a longer amount of time.
Today was a day where I tried to relax and ultimately became stressed out. I was so irritated by many things including my medicine making me feel sick, and the hangover the stuff I take for insomnia has been giving me. These are all things that I should have been able to ignore. I've been on all of these meds before, and I know that within the next week or two all of these side effects will wear off. Laying by the pool, which is usually my favorite way to spend a beautiful summer day, turned into a mess of my mind racing, forcing down the lump in my throat, and trying to ignore the gigantic knot in my stomach. I was tired, and angry, and I wanted both feelings to go away. As I trudged back to the apartment I scolded myself. Why are you so upset? Why don't you just suck it up and deal with it?
I found myself sitting on the couch, watching Spongebob, and trying to focus. When that didn't work, I laid down and tried to sleep. I couldn't sleep, but when I finally opened my eyes it had been 2 hours and I felt better. I laid there for 2 hours coaching myself, and singing lyrics to songs that popped into my head. Insanity, is this what you look like? I forced myself to get up and make myself some dinner (I was pretty impressed with myself....lemon pepper shrimp, broccoli, and a potato. Delish!) and watched some more tv. When I was done I was still anxious, so I decided to take a drive.
I was doing really well and enjoying the scenery (I love living in NC!). Then...my mind started to wander. I pulled over in a cemetery and put the car in park. I started thinking about the last time I had sat in a cemetery (one afternoon while having a panic attack, and spilling my guts to someone) which lead to my mind wandering to all of the things I had been through the past few months, and the past couple of years. As if thinking wasn't enough, the Rascal Flatts song " I Won't Let Go" came on my ipod and filled my car...and I lost it. There's a good sized pond where I stopped and I got out of the car and went and sat by the water. I thought about every thought, every action, every emotion I had dealt with. I threw rocks into the water. I cried.
If anyone had come up behind me they would have thought I was crazy. I started saying out loud "Why ME? Why THIS? Why can't I just get over this already? It's not fair! I feel like I'm drowning. I didn't sign up for this fight, I don't want any part of it. Things were so much easier when I had trained myself to push my emotions deep down....why did people have to walk into my life this year and change that? Why do people suddenly care? NO ONE CARED 2 YEARS AGO WHEN I REALLY NEEDED THEM TO." I let it all out. All of the questions and feelings I have carried with me for 2 months were let out into the open.
I sat by that pond for a very, very long time. I calmed down while I sat there and continued to think. Letting all of those emotions take form is something that should have been done ages ago. I have never been comfortable with feelings....I don't like being angry, I don't like being sad, and I really don't like feeling hopeless. My way of coping was to push away those feelings of hurt, fear, and anger and pretend as though they didn't exist. How unhealthy is that? This is one of, I'm sure, many reasons why my rape is still affecting me in the way that it is. It was suggested that when I started feeling anxious again the cause of that stress was testing and drama at work. This is definitely a part of it, but I truly believe that, especially since I am still struggling with these things, the sole reason I can't seem to keep it together again is because I never allowed myself to deal with what happened to me in the first place.
I have walked through the last year acting like it didn't bother me. I never confided in anyone that I was terrified he would come after me again. I never told anyone (until right this second) that I avoid every Food Lion because I was followed by him in one once. I deny being troubled by the fact that I was deserted by so many "friends" who chose to believe a rapist over me. I don't readily admit that I have abandonment issues, but I do. I don't tell people I want or need help when that's all I've really wanted. I refrain from telling people the complete truth about my current actions and feelings in fear that they themselves will become fearful and worrisome for me. I refuse to worry about myself, because it's easier and more in my nature to worry about everyone else. I am a fixer and I despise the feeling that I need someone to help me piece myself back together.
That joyride that ultimately lead to me sitting by some random pond in a random cemetery actually brought me some peace. It's good to get things off your chest, and to think things through. I know that I need to keep pushing forward, and I know it's going to be extremely difficult. I'm going home for a week soon (I'm only partially looking forward to it, because I'm getting my wisdom teeth out and they may not be able to give me anesthesia and that is terrifying) and people keep asking (judgmentally) why I'm going home for only a week. Honestly I feel like this post helps answer that question. I would love to stay and visit for a little longer, but I need my routine. I need a schedule. I need normalcy, and my normal everyday lies here in NC. If I leave for too long I will be extremely apt to stop going to therapy and my psychiatrist. I can't do that. I need to force myself to stick to a semi regular routine and I am afraid of going off of that routine for even a week. It's terrible, and some of you are judging me right now and I don't care. Maybe by next summer I'll be in a much better place and I'll be able to visit my family for a longer amount of time.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
A Letter to my Rapist
Dear [insert name here],
My intention over the past two years was to never have to see you again or speak to you. I would silently thank God every time I was told you wouldn't have to pay for any of the crimes you had committed, because that meant I didn't have to face you in court. Did you know that had you gone to court I would have been questioned more intensely and scrutinized more than you? They wouldn't have even had to put you on the stand.
Now, I know that you are aware that what you did to me was wrong. So I feel as if I am safe in my assumption that you realized the same thing about the other young woman you raped. I don't know what or how you feel now....maybe you don't even think about it. I do know for a fact that you laughed about it after it happened. I found your facebook, I saw your twitter. You and your friends thought it was hilarious that some "slut" you had just met that wanted to have sex with you had realized she had gone too far and then cried rape. What a stupid girl. She should have been raised better, the police would never believe her, you had nothing to worry about. "Oh that's rough man, so I guess you'll be layin low for a while right?" "No way man, I'll be out tonight....you can be my wingman, since it didn't work out with that bitch I'll have to find someone else." As the girl you were referring to in those tweets and facebook posts, I would like to clear some things up. For one, I did not want to have sex with you. That should have been blatantly obvious as soon as the words 'no' and 'stop' left my mouth. If it wasn't clear at that point, it should have become extremely noticeable when I started to struggle and tried to get up and leave. I feel as though you don't choke someone you are having consensual sex with and threaten to kill them and their family when they try to get away from you. Secondly, the police did believe me. They thought you were completely full of it. The detective who was assigned to my case said he took the opportunity he had to interview you without a lawyer (something you stupidly agreed to) as a way to get you to confess. He handed you a water bottle and told you to pretend it was your favorite appendage, and weapon of choice against women. He asked you to show him what happened. You measured with your hands, and told him "well it was only this far inside of her". He asked if I struggled. You told him yes. When you were questioned as to why I would have struggled if I had consented you said "well she was crying and I mean I knew she was a virgin so I know she was upset because it hurt." He asked if you stopped after you realized I was crying. You said no. You admitted to the police that you raped me. You admitted it.
I'm sure you think the police believed you because you never went to court. The detective fought for me. He went to 3 different district attorneys, and one almost took my case on. They all eventually decided not to fight a battle they knew they couldn't win. You had pretty much admitted it, but they were convinced that you truly thought that what you did wasn't wrong and that a defense attorney would tear me to pieces. The toll it would take on me wasn't worth it. The amount of money and time it would take to go through a trial was not worth it to them. It was worth it to me. I was already an empty shell. You stole a lot from me. What else did I have to lose at that point?
You made me numb to everything. I have gone through long periods of time where I feel nothing. I refuse to acknowledge that you ever happened, I refuse to deal with the wounds you have left on my fragile, fractured heart. Your actions cut me to the utmost core. You turned people I loved against me, and sent complete strangers to harass me and make sure I would never forget you. You have helped me plunge into a depression deeper than the ocean. You have made sure that every action, every move, every risk, every mundane activity is met with a sense of panic. You created an anxiety in me that's turned into obsessive compulsive disorder and paranoia. You helped to strain my relationship with my mother. You made it so that conversation with my father is sometimes awkward. You have made me fear for my sisters on a daily basis. You have made it near impossible for me to leave my house without a sense of doom. You made me question my faith. You made me question my entire life. You made me question every choice I made that night. You have made me believe that there is little to no good left in this world.
Most people walking down the street would think I am a happy person, that I am a bubbly personality. I am those things, when I choose to let myself be. What those people don't see are the scars that are deep under the surface. They cannot see the hurt in my eyes or the ache in my soul. Those who know what I've been through constantly tell me how 'strong' I am. How I am getting stronger every day. I am not strong, though, I am weak. I am not handling myself with grace. I am spiraling out of control. I lie when people ask how I am. That question is usually met with either 'good', 'ok', or 'fine'. I am none of these things. In reality I am not good, ok, or fine. I feel like I am broken. I am a shattered vase, and I am trying to put myself together exactly as I was before you laid hands on me. The unfortunate thing with anything that is shattered as I am, is that the pieces never fit back together quite right. That vase will never be as beautiful as it was before....people will always see it with its gaps and superglue. Those who see me up close will always be aware of my inner scars and bruises. They will always know what I've had to endure. They will always know that on the inside I am fighting a constant war.
You may be thinking right now "Ha! I did get to her!" You may think you have won. I am about to shatter that dream. You have not won, and you never will. You see, I'm learning to appreciate my weakness and vulnerability. My ability to open up to people and share my story has helped to grow a large support system for me. The people I surround myself with now are people I love immensely. They shower me with love and support. These people are trying to help me get better in any way they can. You tried to ensure that people would break me down emotionally. Well, I've found people who build me up not only emotionally, but mentally and spiritually as well. Those people have convinced themselves and me that I will heal. That I will come out of this strong and resilient. They encourage me, and I haven't felt this encouraged and held up ever. It is a wonderful feeling, and one I didn't necessarily have until I faced immense amounts of pain.
Those relationships that I have struggled with during the past two years are relationships I still struggle with. But now I am realizing that they are the most important things I can have in my life, especially the ones with my family. In being a semi open book I hope that I can start to mend what needs mending. I hope that I can reach out and open my heart to them when all I've tried to do the past 24 months is slam it shut. I know I can't do all of the work, that they have to put in a little work too....but I have faith that eventually we will get there.
I am beginning to learn that my tears are not necessarily a sign of weakness either. Some days they serve as a reminder that I am still, in fact, alive. Some days they show that I am still a feeling human being. Those tears are filled with hopes, grief, affirmations, joys, let downs, and memories. I am learning to embrace my tears. I am learning that I don't have to be ashamed of them. Each tear serves a purpose, one that doesn't always clearly show itself to me, but it's always there somewhere.
It is ok for me to need people. To need reassurance. To need love and affection, and to be vulnerable. When you raped me I thought that my life was over. I felt so needy for attention. I felt like you took everything I cared about and took it, along with my virginity which was something I treasured. I thought I was destroyed, that people would only see me as broken and used. That men would see me just as an object and not as a person. In 2 hours time you saw to it that I question my entire existence, my entire purpose. And I allowed you to get under my skin and do that to me.
Most people are going to expect me to hate you. I don't hate you. I hate what you did. I feel bad for you. You used your charm and words to trap me, to get to me. You've done this to other girls. Do you have such low self esteem that you think you have to rape someone, and take away their confidence and trust just so you can feel powerful? I hope that one day I can forgive you completely. It's difficult, but I am certain that one day I can get there and honestly say "I forgive him". I hope that if you were to ever see this that you would reflect and realize what you had done was wrong. I don't know that that would ever happen, but I will pray that someday you do realize the complexity of your actions.
The one good thing about this whole situation is that I have learned a lot about myself. I don't credit you for this at all, though. I credit myself and the people I choose to surround myself with. I will come out of this a better person.
I hope that you'll think twice before doing this to some other girl. I hope that you remember that when she says no she means it. I hope you realize that getting her drunk first, and making sure you can hold it over her head is wrong. I hope that someday you realize what kind of monster you have created in yourself.
That girl you hurt in more ways than one,
Kayleigh
"There's a part of me I can't get back, a little girl grew up too fast. All it took was once I'll never be the same. Now I'm taking back my life today, there's nothing left that you can say cause you were never gonna take the blame anyway. Now I'm a warrior, yes I've got thicker skin. I'm a warrior, I'm stronger than I've ever been and my armor is made of steel you can't get in, I'm a warrior....and you will never hurt me again."
~Demi Lovato "Warrior"
My intention over the past two years was to never have to see you again or speak to you. I would silently thank God every time I was told you wouldn't have to pay for any of the crimes you had committed, because that meant I didn't have to face you in court. Did you know that had you gone to court I would have been questioned more intensely and scrutinized more than you? They wouldn't have even had to put you on the stand.
Now, I know that you are aware that what you did to me was wrong. So I feel as if I am safe in my assumption that you realized the same thing about the other young woman you raped. I don't know what or how you feel now....maybe you don't even think about it. I do know for a fact that you laughed about it after it happened. I found your facebook, I saw your twitter. You and your friends thought it was hilarious that some "slut" you had just met that wanted to have sex with you had realized she had gone too far and then cried rape. What a stupid girl. She should have been raised better, the police would never believe her, you had nothing to worry about. "Oh that's rough man, so I guess you'll be layin low for a while right?" "No way man, I'll be out tonight....you can be my wingman, since it didn't work out with that bitch I'll have to find someone else." As the girl you were referring to in those tweets and facebook posts, I would like to clear some things up. For one, I did not want to have sex with you. That should have been blatantly obvious as soon as the words 'no' and 'stop' left my mouth. If it wasn't clear at that point, it should have become extremely noticeable when I started to struggle and tried to get up and leave. I feel as though you don't choke someone you are having consensual sex with and threaten to kill them and their family when they try to get away from you. Secondly, the police did believe me. They thought you were completely full of it. The detective who was assigned to my case said he took the opportunity he had to interview you without a lawyer (something you stupidly agreed to) as a way to get you to confess. He handed you a water bottle and told you to pretend it was your favorite appendage, and weapon of choice against women. He asked you to show him what happened. You measured with your hands, and told him "well it was only this far inside of her". He asked if I struggled. You told him yes. When you were questioned as to why I would have struggled if I had consented you said "well she was crying and I mean I knew she was a virgin so I know she was upset because it hurt." He asked if you stopped after you realized I was crying. You said no. You admitted to the police that you raped me. You admitted it.
I'm sure you think the police believed you because you never went to court. The detective fought for me. He went to 3 different district attorneys, and one almost took my case on. They all eventually decided not to fight a battle they knew they couldn't win. You had pretty much admitted it, but they were convinced that you truly thought that what you did wasn't wrong and that a defense attorney would tear me to pieces. The toll it would take on me wasn't worth it. The amount of money and time it would take to go through a trial was not worth it to them. It was worth it to me. I was already an empty shell. You stole a lot from me. What else did I have to lose at that point?
You made me numb to everything. I have gone through long periods of time where I feel nothing. I refuse to acknowledge that you ever happened, I refuse to deal with the wounds you have left on my fragile, fractured heart. Your actions cut me to the utmost core. You turned people I loved against me, and sent complete strangers to harass me and make sure I would never forget you. You have helped me plunge into a depression deeper than the ocean. You have made sure that every action, every move, every risk, every mundane activity is met with a sense of panic. You created an anxiety in me that's turned into obsessive compulsive disorder and paranoia. You helped to strain my relationship with my mother. You made it so that conversation with my father is sometimes awkward. You have made me fear for my sisters on a daily basis. You have made it near impossible for me to leave my house without a sense of doom. You made me question my faith. You made me question my entire life. You made me question every choice I made that night. You have made me believe that there is little to no good left in this world.
Most people walking down the street would think I am a happy person, that I am a bubbly personality. I am those things, when I choose to let myself be. What those people don't see are the scars that are deep under the surface. They cannot see the hurt in my eyes or the ache in my soul. Those who know what I've been through constantly tell me how 'strong' I am. How I am getting stronger every day. I am not strong, though, I am weak. I am not handling myself with grace. I am spiraling out of control. I lie when people ask how I am. That question is usually met with either 'good', 'ok', or 'fine'. I am none of these things. In reality I am not good, ok, or fine. I feel like I am broken. I am a shattered vase, and I am trying to put myself together exactly as I was before you laid hands on me. The unfortunate thing with anything that is shattered as I am, is that the pieces never fit back together quite right. That vase will never be as beautiful as it was before....people will always see it with its gaps and superglue. Those who see me up close will always be aware of my inner scars and bruises. They will always know what I've had to endure. They will always know that on the inside I am fighting a constant war.
You may be thinking right now "Ha! I did get to her!" You may think you have won. I am about to shatter that dream. You have not won, and you never will. You see, I'm learning to appreciate my weakness and vulnerability. My ability to open up to people and share my story has helped to grow a large support system for me. The people I surround myself with now are people I love immensely. They shower me with love and support. These people are trying to help me get better in any way they can. You tried to ensure that people would break me down emotionally. Well, I've found people who build me up not only emotionally, but mentally and spiritually as well. Those people have convinced themselves and me that I will heal. That I will come out of this strong and resilient. They encourage me, and I haven't felt this encouraged and held up ever. It is a wonderful feeling, and one I didn't necessarily have until I faced immense amounts of pain.
Those relationships that I have struggled with during the past two years are relationships I still struggle with. But now I am realizing that they are the most important things I can have in my life, especially the ones with my family. In being a semi open book I hope that I can start to mend what needs mending. I hope that I can reach out and open my heart to them when all I've tried to do the past 24 months is slam it shut. I know I can't do all of the work, that they have to put in a little work too....but I have faith that eventually we will get there.
I am beginning to learn that my tears are not necessarily a sign of weakness either. Some days they serve as a reminder that I am still, in fact, alive. Some days they show that I am still a feeling human being. Those tears are filled with hopes, grief, affirmations, joys, let downs, and memories. I am learning to embrace my tears. I am learning that I don't have to be ashamed of them. Each tear serves a purpose, one that doesn't always clearly show itself to me, but it's always there somewhere.
It is ok for me to need people. To need reassurance. To need love and affection, and to be vulnerable. When you raped me I thought that my life was over. I felt so needy for attention. I felt like you took everything I cared about and took it, along with my virginity which was something I treasured. I thought I was destroyed, that people would only see me as broken and used. That men would see me just as an object and not as a person. In 2 hours time you saw to it that I question my entire existence, my entire purpose. And I allowed you to get under my skin and do that to me.
Most people are going to expect me to hate you. I don't hate you. I hate what you did. I feel bad for you. You used your charm and words to trap me, to get to me. You've done this to other girls. Do you have such low self esteem that you think you have to rape someone, and take away their confidence and trust just so you can feel powerful? I hope that one day I can forgive you completely. It's difficult, but I am certain that one day I can get there and honestly say "I forgive him". I hope that if you were to ever see this that you would reflect and realize what you had done was wrong. I don't know that that would ever happen, but I will pray that someday you do realize the complexity of your actions.
The one good thing about this whole situation is that I have learned a lot about myself. I don't credit you for this at all, though. I credit myself and the people I choose to surround myself with. I will come out of this a better person.
I hope that you'll think twice before doing this to some other girl. I hope that you remember that when she says no she means it. I hope you realize that getting her drunk first, and making sure you can hold it over her head is wrong. I hope that someday you realize what kind of monster you have created in yourself.
That girl you hurt in more ways than one,
Kayleigh
"There's a part of me I can't get back, a little girl grew up too fast. All it took was once I'll never be the same. Now I'm taking back my life today, there's nothing left that you can say cause you were never gonna take the blame anyway. Now I'm a warrior, yes I've got thicker skin. I'm a warrior, I'm stronger than I've ever been and my armor is made of steel you can't get in, I'm a warrior....and you will never hurt me again."
~Demi Lovato "Warrior"
Monday, June 10, 2013
Here Comes the Sun
"Here comes the sun and I say, it's all right..." This song has been stuck in my head all day! Reason? I finally went to the Dr. today and I feel like (for the first time in months) that we're actually getting somewhere.
We talked and he said I am definitely struggling with severe depression and anxiety, and I was officially diagnosed OCD. All of those, including the OCD fall under the umbrella of PTSD and so we are going to try a combination of medications and therapy. All of the medication I will be taking are things I took a year and a half ago that worked really well. We can't really figure out why my doctor didn't put me back on those to begin with, but I am going to look past that and just pray that if he ever has another patient with symptoms like mine he pays more attention to them and their needs.
I was told I never should have been put on Celexa. He said that there have been studies with panic disorders and they could never quite get Celexa to work correctly, and that although my anxiety levels are crazy high, the medication could have contributed to making it a tad worse. I am not allowed to stop taking my medicine until I have successfully completed a therapy program. This is so hard for me because as stated in my previous post I like to run when the going gets tough. I know that when therapy starts getting too difficult I will want to sprint away, curl up in a ball and cry. Fortunately I have been blessed with some incredible people in my life who have made it incredibly clear that they will not let me run away this time. I have too much riding on getting better. I owe it to myself, and I owe it to some other people, to let myself heal and to actually put the work in necessary to heal.
This will be hard. It will hurt....probably a lot. I am in deep emotional turmoil, and I need to start recognizing that instead of sweeping it under the rug. I deny it to myself constantly, and I need to stop because it is NOT helping me get better. I admitted to the Dr. that I didn't understand why I was still feeling like this when I was raped 2 years ago. His response was "Well when you switch therapists and quit treatment this much, you don't allow yourself to deal with it and cope. You're still in a place you were right after you were raped because you refuse to acknowledge it and deal with it." Wow. It is so true. I can come on this blog and tell all of you about it, I can discuss it with my friends. I know it happened, I was there, I relive it constantly. But it makes me uncomfortable and dealing with it is painful and so I just brush it off like I'm this really strong person when in reality I am a huge wimp.
Is the pain agonizing at times? Absolutely. There are days I can't drag myself out of bed because I know the day will hurt. There are days I can hardly make it to work because I know it will hurt. There are days I can barely form full sentences because speaking takes energy and I'm using all of mine to survive...I have no time to waste on useless words. When you have an attitude like that, though, a lot of things go left unsaid. Things like, "I need help" or "I just need a hug" or "I need to know I'm not burdening you" or "I need someone to tell me I'm going to be ok and to make me feel like I'm safe". It is a struggle.
I don't like hearing that things are wrong with me. I don't like feeling like I am going crazy. I don't like asking for help or feeling like I need to be taken care of. I want to be able to deal with my own problems. Actually, I don't even want to have problems. That's a lot to ask.
A lot of people have asked what they can do for me when they see that I'm having a rough day. Know what you can do? Reassure me. Make sure I know that I am loved, make sure I know I am not a burden to you (unless I am in which case don't approach me), make sure I know that this fight I'm in is worth it. Some days I know that I am fighting a battle that will eventually be won, as long as I continue working at it. Then there are some days where I'm really not sure it is worth it. There are days this seems like an endless battle. Those are the longest, most difficult days. The ones where all I want to do is sleep all of my problems away, and I have to fight to make myself get up and be productive. Some of those days me fighting to get myself up means I fight to do something as simple and ridiculous as moving to the couch and turning on the tv. Some days that is work. What would be mindless for most of you is pure torture for me when I have a bad day. Turning on the tv is hard work.
Another word of advice is if you see me crying or see that I have been crying at some point, don't demand to know what's wrong with me. Ask if everything's ok. You can even ask why I'm crying. But seriously there are so many times where I don't even know why I'm crying....it's just something my brain is currently making me do.
This post has probably seemed whiny, but I swear that today I saw a bright side. I feel deep in my heart that things are going to start getting better. I am a fighter, I am sassy, and I have never let anything defeat me before and darn it I am not going to start letting that happen now....I'm too stubborn. I am going to beat this. I am going to come out a better person because of it.
"Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right"
We talked and he said I am definitely struggling with severe depression and anxiety, and I was officially diagnosed OCD. All of those, including the OCD fall under the umbrella of PTSD and so we are going to try a combination of medications and therapy. All of the medication I will be taking are things I took a year and a half ago that worked really well. We can't really figure out why my doctor didn't put me back on those to begin with, but I am going to look past that and just pray that if he ever has another patient with symptoms like mine he pays more attention to them and their needs.
I was told I never should have been put on Celexa. He said that there have been studies with panic disorders and they could never quite get Celexa to work correctly, and that although my anxiety levels are crazy high, the medication could have contributed to making it a tad worse. I am not allowed to stop taking my medicine until I have successfully completed a therapy program. This is so hard for me because as stated in my previous post I like to run when the going gets tough. I know that when therapy starts getting too difficult I will want to sprint away, curl up in a ball and cry. Fortunately I have been blessed with some incredible people in my life who have made it incredibly clear that they will not let me run away this time. I have too much riding on getting better. I owe it to myself, and I owe it to some other people, to let myself heal and to actually put the work in necessary to heal.
This will be hard. It will hurt....probably a lot. I am in deep emotional turmoil, and I need to start recognizing that instead of sweeping it under the rug. I deny it to myself constantly, and I need to stop because it is NOT helping me get better. I admitted to the Dr. that I didn't understand why I was still feeling like this when I was raped 2 years ago. His response was "Well when you switch therapists and quit treatment this much, you don't allow yourself to deal with it and cope. You're still in a place you were right after you were raped because you refuse to acknowledge it and deal with it." Wow. It is so true. I can come on this blog and tell all of you about it, I can discuss it with my friends. I know it happened, I was there, I relive it constantly. But it makes me uncomfortable and dealing with it is painful and so I just brush it off like I'm this really strong person when in reality I am a huge wimp.
Is the pain agonizing at times? Absolutely. There are days I can't drag myself out of bed because I know the day will hurt. There are days I can hardly make it to work because I know it will hurt. There are days I can barely form full sentences because speaking takes energy and I'm using all of mine to survive...I have no time to waste on useless words. When you have an attitude like that, though, a lot of things go left unsaid. Things like, "I need help" or "I just need a hug" or "I need to know I'm not burdening you" or "I need someone to tell me I'm going to be ok and to make me feel like I'm safe". It is a struggle.
I don't like hearing that things are wrong with me. I don't like feeling like I am going crazy. I don't like asking for help or feeling like I need to be taken care of. I want to be able to deal with my own problems. Actually, I don't even want to have problems. That's a lot to ask.
A lot of people have asked what they can do for me when they see that I'm having a rough day. Know what you can do? Reassure me. Make sure I know that I am loved, make sure I know I am not a burden to you (unless I am in which case don't approach me), make sure I know that this fight I'm in is worth it. Some days I know that I am fighting a battle that will eventually be won, as long as I continue working at it. Then there are some days where I'm really not sure it is worth it. There are days this seems like an endless battle. Those are the longest, most difficult days. The ones where all I want to do is sleep all of my problems away, and I have to fight to make myself get up and be productive. Some of those days me fighting to get myself up means I fight to do something as simple and ridiculous as moving to the couch and turning on the tv. Some days that is work. What would be mindless for most of you is pure torture for me when I have a bad day. Turning on the tv is hard work.
Another word of advice is if you see me crying or see that I have been crying at some point, don't demand to know what's wrong with me. Ask if everything's ok. You can even ask why I'm crying. But seriously there are so many times where I don't even know why I'm crying....it's just something my brain is currently making me do.
This post has probably seemed whiny, but I swear that today I saw a bright side. I feel deep in my heart that things are going to start getting better. I am a fighter, I am sassy, and I have never let anything defeat me before and darn it I am not going to start letting that happen now....I'm too stubborn. I am going to beat this. I am going to come out a better person because of it.
"Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right"
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Run, Run As Fast As You Can
I was thinking today about several things I am having a dilemma over and was trying to remember how I've dealt with similar situations in the past and had a realization. I typically have one solution for the following problems:
1. Having someone tell me what I need to hear, and not wanting to hear it.
2. Stressful situations not going my way.
My solution to both of these problems is to run. I run fast.
Why do you think I can't commit to a therapist? This newest one is the 3rd one in less than two years. Now we all know that the first one is just an absolute psychopath, but there really wasn't anything wrong with the second one. I did have an issue with a technique she used called EMDR. She gave me very minimal information on it, and I agreed to try it. Basically what she would do is have me close my eyes. Our first session she made me picture a safe place, something I had a good memory of. My safe place that I chose was the Paw Paw Patch. You know that song/rhyme/whatever that has that line "way down yonder in the paw paw patch"? OK well when I was little we called this place the Paw Paw Patch and it was literally just a grassy pathway along the side of a church that ran behind our house and a few other houses in the neighborhood, and sometimes my parents would walk us back there to get home. It was like a special treat, and we didn't get to do it every day and it is honestly one of my favorite memories of being a kid, and so I chose that as my safe place. Anyway once I chose my safe place she told me to picture where my rape occurred. So I pictured that apartment. She would tap my hands 3 times and tell me I was in the apartment. My brain would bring up the picture and she would prompt me to start moving through the apartment and tell her what I saw. What I saw was terrifying. I would replay the rape, she would ask how I felt, I would cry a lot and a few times I even started screaming. I hated it. I told her I didn't like it. We argued about trying it again. I was set against it, but she was convinced it would help. I flat out refused and so that was that. Not much later I stopped going to her, but it wasn't because we argued. The reason I didn't go back is because one session she looked at me and said "you need to start being honest with yourself about what happened to you. Stop acting like everything is ok, because we both know it's not. Don't take your problems and sweep them under the rug, because they'll just resurface and it will hurt ten times more." She was right. I didn't want her to be right. So I ran.
This week some things didn't go my way. I didn't get what I wanted. I asked for something, plead my case, begged for it. And I was eventually told 'no'. Most people would have said ok and kept moving on. I was given an explanation, I understood. It was stressful to me to not get what I want and so my first instinct was to run. To go somewhere else and start all over. My solution is always to run.
After I was raped my mom swooped in and assumed her role as my protector. She was there when I needed to talk, but knew when to back off and leave me alone. She sang to me (I can't listen to that song anymore cause it triggers me...ask her and Lauren how I reacted to it at the P!nk concert, it was 3 minutes of ugly crying), took me places, tried to spoil me. When I said one night randomly that I wanted a milkshake we were suddenly in the car on the way to Cookout because she wanted me to finally eat. She cheered me on when I took 4 bites of a BLT. Anytime I wanted to go somewhere or do something she dropped everything and took me...no matter what, even if we really didn't have the money or the time. My mom wanted to make sure I felt safe, and loved, and comfortable. She didn't always say the right thing, and there were plenty of times where she innocently said something or wondered something out loud about the whole ordeal and it hurt my feelings. I never told her it did. And there were times too where she would tell me things that I needed to hear. She would tell me I needed to eat, she would say I needed to go to therapy, she would tell me I needed to start dealing with my memories and nightmares and emotions. Those were things I needed to hear, but I either wasn't ready to hear them or I didn't want to hear them. So instead of telling her that, I ran. I didn't literally get up and desert my mom. Instead I pushed her away. And I continue to push her away. I don't mean to keep doing it, I really truly don't. It's just become so easy for me. I don't like what she has to say even though I need to hear it? I shut her out, ignore her, or become irritable and short with her. My mother does not deserve that kind of treatment, and I recognize that yet I continue to do that. And she continues to love me. I mean the woman still comes and visits me, takes me out to eat, sends me funny youtube videos when I have a bad day (we haven't had a Hassellhoff Monday in a while!), hides Easter Eggs full of money around my house, and calls/texts me even though there's a 75% chance I'll act like a complete jerk and treat her like crap. She doesn't just tolerate me, she loves me. The fact that I can't accept that sucks. I'll admit there were times where I wanted her to be a sitcom mom where she would just sit down and listen to me and say something wise, and I had the exact conversations planned out in my head. There were 2 problems with this:
1. We are not mushy sitcom family type people (we're more gooey!)
2. Our relationship has never been like that.
Me and mom have always had an awesome relationship. She was always my best friend. I would literally prefer to hang out with her all day than hang out with people my own age when I was a teenager. We had always been very open with each other, and I had never been afraid to tell her anything. I honestly think that changed 2 or 3 days after I was raped when she innocently asked me a question that I took the wrong way. She was just wondering out loud like she has ALWAYS done with me having no problems with it, but I was so emotional that I took it as her blaming me. She realized what she said as soon as the words left her mouth and she was quick to correct herself and apologize profusely. But I think at that point it was too late. In 5 seconds our entire relationship changed. I know she doesn't blame me, I know she never did. But my brain hasn't necessarily functioned normally since May 6th 2011 so something obviously got messed up. Whatever part of my brain controls my relationship with my mom is temporarily on the fritz. I hope I can fix it soon. Once again I know she never once thought it was my fault. There were times where she opened up that she felt guilty that she wasn't there, that she couldn't protect me. Most normal people would realize that was their parent loving them. Want to know what I thought when she said it? "Oh my gosh she is making this about HER, how selfish. This is about ME." Really Kayleigh Rose? That's so selfish of her? How selfish of YOU. Her first born was just violated in the most horrific way she can imagine at that moment and you think it's selfish of her to wish she could have protected you? Moron. My mom deserves to have a better daughter than I have been, but she keeps me around anyway. I have a lot of "moms" who take care of me in this world, but there is only one who birthed me, who knows every freckle on my cute face and hair on my fat head. I hope that someday soon I can make it better, that I can mend what I broke. Most days I keep running from her, and she continues to sprint after me. I know our relationship will never be exactly the same, I've been changed too much and I'm realizing that I can't have that exact relationship if my personality and demeanor isn't exactly the same. I'm glad I have the mom that I do. I'm glad she keeps chasing me, even if I don't always show it. And she's probably reading this right now and crying....I still know her like the back of my hand. I love you mommy :)
I've figured out why I run. I run because that's my easy way out. I run because I don't think with my brain, I think with my heart. My emotions fuel my decisions, and my brain doesn't get a chance to object. If I continue to let my heart overtake my brain, and let my emotions drive my decision making, I am going to miss out on some amazing things and opportunities. So I think my new goal for now is not to run. This new therapist I'm seeing? She seems great, but she wants me to see her weekly. I can't afford that. So my original solution was to just stop going and not tell anybody. My new solution? Tell her I can only do every other week and deal with it. Baby steps.
Also if you're reading this I want you to go youtube and listen to the song Warrior by Demi Lovato. It is a beautiful song, and it's basically my life. And if you're my sister Katie I want you to listen to it too, just once, even though you hate Demi Lovato :)
1. Having someone tell me what I need to hear, and not wanting to hear it.
2. Stressful situations not going my way.
My solution to both of these problems is to run. I run fast.
Why do you think I can't commit to a therapist? This newest one is the 3rd one in less than two years. Now we all know that the first one is just an absolute psychopath, but there really wasn't anything wrong with the second one. I did have an issue with a technique she used called EMDR. She gave me very minimal information on it, and I agreed to try it. Basically what she would do is have me close my eyes. Our first session she made me picture a safe place, something I had a good memory of. My safe place that I chose was the Paw Paw Patch. You know that song/rhyme/whatever that has that line "way down yonder in the paw paw patch"? OK well when I was little we called this place the Paw Paw Patch and it was literally just a grassy pathway along the side of a church that ran behind our house and a few other houses in the neighborhood, and sometimes my parents would walk us back there to get home. It was like a special treat, and we didn't get to do it every day and it is honestly one of my favorite memories of being a kid, and so I chose that as my safe place. Anyway once I chose my safe place she told me to picture where my rape occurred. So I pictured that apartment. She would tap my hands 3 times and tell me I was in the apartment. My brain would bring up the picture and she would prompt me to start moving through the apartment and tell her what I saw. What I saw was terrifying. I would replay the rape, she would ask how I felt, I would cry a lot and a few times I even started screaming. I hated it. I told her I didn't like it. We argued about trying it again. I was set against it, but she was convinced it would help. I flat out refused and so that was that. Not much later I stopped going to her, but it wasn't because we argued. The reason I didn't go back is because one session she looked at me and said "you need to start being honest with yourself about what happened to you. Stop acting like everything is ok, because we both know it's not. Don't take your problems and sweep them under the rug, because they'll just resurface and it will hurt ten times more." She was right. I didn't want her to be right. So I ran.
This week some things didn't go my way. I didn't get what I wanted. I asked for something, plead my case, begged for it. And I was eventually told 'no'. Most people would have said ok and kept moving on. I was given an explanation, I understood. It was stressful to me to not get what I want and so my first instinct was to run. To go somewhere else and start all over. My solution is always to run.
After I was raped my mom swooped in and assumed her role as my protector. She was there when I needed to talk, but knew when to back off and leave me alone. She sang to me (I can't listen to that song anymore cause it triggers me...ask her and Lauren how I reacted to it at the P!nk concert, it was 3 minutes of ugly crying), took me places, tried to spoil me. When I said one night randomly that I wanted a milkshake we were suddenly in the car on the way to Cookout because she wanted me to finally eat. She cheered me on when I took 4 bites of a BLT. Anytime I wanted to go somewhere or do something she dropped everything and took me...no matter what, even if we really didn't have the money or the time. My mom wanted to make sure I felt safe, and loved, and comfortable. She didn't always say the right thing, and there were plenty of times where she innocently said something or wondered something out loud about the whole ordeal and it hurt my feelings. I never told her it did. And there were times too where she would tell me things that I needed to hear. She would tell me I needed to eat, she would say I needed to go to therapy, she would tell me I needed to start dealing with my memories and nightmares and emotions. Those were things I needed to hear, but I either wasn't ready to hear them or I didn't want to hear them. So instead of telling her that, I ran. I didn't literally get up and desert my mom. Instead I pushed her away. And I continue to push her away. I don't mean to keep doing it, I really truly don't. It's just become so easy for me. I don't like what she has to say even though I need to hear it? I shut her out, ignore her, or become irritable and short with her. My mother does not deserve that kind of treatment, and I recognize that yet I continue to do that. And she continues to love me. I mean the woman still comes and visits me, takes me out to eat, sends me funny youtube videos when I have a bad day (we haven't had a Hassellhoff Monday in a while!), hides Easter Eggs full of money around my house, and calls/texts me even though there's a 75% chance I'll act like a complete jerk and treat her like crap. She doesn't just tolerate me, she loves me. The fact that I can't accept that sucks. I'll admit there were times where I wanted her to be a sitcom mom where she would just sit down and listen to me and say something wise, and I had the exact conversations planned out in my head. There were 2 problems with this:
1. We are not mushy sitcom family type people (we're more gooey!)
2. Our relationship has never been like that.
Me and mom have always had an awesome relationship. She was always my best friend. I would literally prefer to hang out with her all day than hang out with people my own age when I was a teenager. We had always been very open with each other, and I had never been afraid to tell her anything. I honestly think that changed 2 or 3 days after I was raped when she innocently asked me a question that I took the wrong way. She was just wondering out loud like she has ALWAYS done with me having no problems with it, but I was so emotional that I took it as her blaming me. She realized what she said as soon as the words left her mouth and she was quick to correct herself and apologize profusely. But I think at that point it was too late. In 5 seconds our entire relationship changed. I know she doesn't blame me, I know she never did. But my brain hasn't necessarily functioned normally since May 6th 2011 so something obviously got messed up. Whatever part of my brain controls my relationship with my mom is temporarily on the fritz. I hope I can fix it soon. Once again I know she never once thought it was my fault. There were times where she opened up that she felt guilty that she wasn't there, that she couldn't protect me. Most normal people would realize that was their parent loving them. Want to know what I thought when she said it? "Oh my gosh she is making this about HER, how selfish. This is about ME." Really Kayleigh Rose? That's so selfish of her? How selfish of YOU. Her first born was just violated in the most horrific way she can imagine at that moment and you think it's selfish of her to wish she could have protected you? Moron. My mom deserves to have a better daughter than I have been, but she keeps me around anyway. I have a lot of "moms" who take care of me in this world, but there is only one who birthed me, who knows every freckle on my cute face and hair on my fat head. I hope that someday soon I can make it better, that I can mend what I broke. Most days I keep running from her, and she continues to sprint after me. I know our relationship will never be exactly the same, I've been changed too much and I'm realizing that I can't have that exact relationship if my personality and demeanor isn't exactly the same. I'm glad I have the mom that I do. I'm glad she keeps chasing me, even if I don't always show it. And she's probably reading this right now and crying....I still know her like the back of my hand. I love you mommy :)
I've figured out why I run. I run because that's my easy way out. I run because I don't think with my brain, I think with my heart. My emotions fuel my decisions, and my brain doesn't get a chance to object. If I continue to let my heart overtake my brain, and let my emotions drive my decision making, I am going to miss out on some amazing things and opportunities. So I think my new goal for now is not to run. This new therapist I'm seeing? She seems great, but she wants me to see her weekly. I can't afford that. So my original solution was to just stop going and not tell anybody. My new solution? Tell her I can only do every other week and deal with it. Baby steps.
Also if you're reading this I want you to go youtube and listen to the song Warrior by Demi Lovato. It is a beautiful song, and it's basically my life. And if you're my sister Katie I want you to listen to it too, just once, even though you hate Demi Lovato :)
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