From the Beginning

A couple of years ago when I started this blog I wrote out my story. Every year, sometime during April I repost that original post. April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month and I have always felt like getting my story out there was important. This year instead of reposting about that night, I wanted to write a new post. I'm telling the same story, but in the past (almost) 4 years, I have grown a lot and wanted to see how that growth affects the way I view my story.  So let's go back to May 6, 2011...

May 5, 2011: Mid-Afternoon
I was sitting down at Old Town Draught House watching one of my best friends in the whole world eat his lunch. I wasn't hungry (ok, actually I was just super poor and couldn't afford lunch out), but I was happy to have some company. We had blasted Ke$ha in his car on the way to campus. It was a warm afternoon, and with the music blasting and windows rolled down I truly believed I didn't have a care in the world. I listened as he explained his new roommate situation: his new roommates were really nice, he seemed to hit it off with them, and he was relieved to finally be out of his previous rooming situation. "I really want you to meet them. You all would get along so well. ---- is a really cool guy, he's single, and I've told him about you. We might have people over tonight for Cinco de Mayo. You should come." For the millionth time that afternoon I told him I wasn't interested in going to a party that night. The semester (well, year) had been a tough and stressful one and my ankle was still bothering me (I had been on crutches for 2 weeks after a bad sprain while playing a game of tag during my Science Methods class). He told me if I changed my mind to let him know.

May 5, 2011: Around 9pm
I'm sitting criss cross applesauce on my couch watching Doctor Who on Netflix and eating a creamsicle. I'm bored out of my ever-loving mind. I should have told my best friend I would come over...everyone knows I hate being alone for any lengthy amount of time and I'm unsure of why I thought I'd want to be by myself. Suddenly my phone rings and it's him asking if I want to come over, he'll come pick me up, it'll be really fun, his cute roommate is excited to meet me, blah blah blah...
Next thing I know I'm standing in front of my bathroom mirror, sniffing my pits (a lady must check these things to know when or when not to apply more deodorant) and realize I really should shave them but who's gonna see? I brush my teeth, run a comb through my hair, and then I hear the knock on the door signaling me to leave. As I hop into my friend's car I can't help but think that I should have changed my clothes. This outfit will not impress a boy. These jeans could stand to be washed. I don't know the last time I wore a bra other than this one. My School of Ed t-shirt is ratty, my UNCG jacket is a little tight (thanks, creamsicles!) and honestly my hair is a little greasier than I would prefer. His roommate will definitely overlook me.

May 6, 2011 12:30am
I probably shouldn't have another drink.  Oh, what the hell. Who cares? I'm in safe company. Plus, I'm having fun and I'm not out of my mind out of it. I can handle another one. I'll switch to water after this. I'm kind of hungry. I wish we had some pizza or something. His roommate is really cute. He seems to like me. He keeps touching my hand. And we like the same music! I would totally date him. OMG. OMGOMGOMG WHAT IF WE DATED AND I FINALLY HAD A BOYFRIEND? No, no, no. Can't get my hopes up........oh crap, he just handed me this drink. I trust him I think, but just in case I'll hide it behind this chair and grab my own. Can never be too safe. Wait, did he just say 'you make out with ----- and I'll make out with ----- and whoever stops first buys pizza?" That is so stupid. I'm not doing that.....whoa. guess I am doing that. This is actually kind of fun. It's not serious. Hm. He's a good kisser. I don't mind this. I really really really like him.

May 6, 2011: Around 1:55am
He just asked me to go upstairs! Fine with me cause ----- is being weird as crap. There's a living room area up there. I'll just tell him I don't want to do anything more than kissing since we've already been doing that....he said ok. Oh man, he's so cool.....Why is my heart beating so fast? Why do I suddenly feel like I'm making a mistake? I'm already halfway up these stairs, I don't know what my problem is.

May 6, 2011: 2am
This is the point I reached the top of the stairs. I headed towards the common area. He had other plans. He grabbed me around my waist, spun me around, and pushed me through the nearest doorway. Crap. I turned to ask him what was happening, but he just kept pushing. Suddenly we were by his bed, but it was dark and I couldn't see a thing. The door was still open, but that was the only light. He grabbed me around my waist and pushed me onto the mattress. Unfortunately we were really close to the wall and I slammed my head on the wall as I was pushed. I was confused. He started kissing me again and I didn't stop him. I was coherent, but I definitely had had more to drink than preferred. I wasn't quite sure yet if what was unfolding was wrong. Suddenly he was on top of me and the kisses turned painful. His hand was up my shirt, and his mouth was on my neck. That hurt. And I told him so. And he grabbed my throat with his hand and told me to "shut the f--k up". And that's when I knew I was in trouble.

May 6, 2011: 4am
My legs feel like jello. I'm trying to focus on walking down these carpeted steps. He's standing behind me on the landing, fiercely whispering things I don't understand. He doesn't exist. Nothing exists. It's just me and the stairs. I make it down, and carefully move towards my friend's bedroom door. I knock and hear him hurriedly trying to get to the door. He swings the door open with just a towel around his waist, looks me up and down and says "what's wrong?" I tell him it's fine, I just need to go home. I'm tired. And disgusting. And I don't understand what's happening to me. He says 'ok' closes and locks his door so he can change, and leaves me in the living room with my rapist looking at me from above.

May 6, 2011: 4:23am
I'm sitting on the edge of the bed when my friend calls me. "Seriously, what's wrong? What happened?" I promptly begin to describe the 2 hours of hell his roommate just put me through. I tried to describe what happened in a way he could understand...so that maybe he could help me understand. I told him about the threats of death. The threats against my family when they came to retrieve my body. The moment he instructed me to take off my jeans or prepare for a fate I didn't want to imagine. The moment I complied. I described how even though I knew what was about to happen, it still caught me off guard. It hurt, my vision blurred for a second. I begged him to stop and he just smirked. He told me that I was drunk, the cops would never believe me. Everyone would just think I was a whore. I told him that the pressure he put on my chest while he forcibly had sex with me (I still couldn't determine if that could be classified as rape) was too much and I tried everything to get him off of me. I finally asked if he had a condom. He rolled off, walked to his dresser, threw a condom at me and said "don't move". Then he walked into the bathroom. I told my friend that was my chance. I told him how I jumped off of the bed and tried to pull my jeans on, I told him I made a mistake of trying to button them when I should have been running towards the door (the door that somehow had become shut), I told him that ---- had his bathroom door open and heard me. I told him about the second time I was pushed onto the bed. I told him about the words that haunt me to this day "I think you like it. You're just afraid of liking it. Let's try something a little different." I told him how he put his hand down my unbuttoned pants, and how I wanted to push those memories out of my brain forever. And that's when he told me, "You were drunk. It's not his fault. You were leading him on." I hung up the phone, and took an hour long shower. I tried really hard to wash the disgust off of me, but that's just not something you can take care of with a bar of soap. After all of that I curled up in a ball on top of my sheets, covered up with a small blanket and fell asleep trying to make myself as small as possible. I hoped I could just disappear. Maybe it was a bad dream.

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The next morning I was in a state. I was confused, angry, in physical and emotional pain. Finally that night I called a friend who told me I was raped and insisted I call the police. That phone call resulted in a whirlwind of hospital visits and police interviews. Statements were given several times. He lied. I didn't. They didn't have enough against him. He walked free. I was chained in my own personal hell. A rape kit proved to be almost as traumatizing as the rape itself. People saw the hickeys and bruises on my neck and just assumed I "had too much fun" as said by one person. I didn't eat for days, weeks, months. It seemed like every time I had to go to a dr, it was assumed I had made poor decisions. Not that poor decisions had been made for me. My physical wounds healed. My emotional wounds did not. Flashbacks and night terrors ran my life. Suicide seemed better than going through any of that.

I look back on that time and I thank God that I am still here to tell my story. How I've written it now is as raw as I've ever told it. I have forever been embarrassed by the details. I was ashamed of my actions. I still am to this day. However, as part of reaching out to other women I've realized I have to be real. I am not required to tell my story, but I feel like I am called to it. I can choose to embrace that or reject it. I choose to embrace it. This April, I encourage you to take a stand. Make a difference. Even if it's a simple Facebook post. A hug to encourage a friend who has been hurt. There are moments I truly realize it's a miracle I am still alive. I think that's for a reason. Let's pay it forward. Let's show people how thankful we are for their lives.

Life is an incredible, sometimes painful, journey. I thank God every day I'm still on that journey. I'm glad you're on it with me.

Fear and Forgiveness

This past weekend I was so blessed to be able to attend my church's women's retreat in the mountains and I have had so many thoughts about it since I came home yesterday. I have found that getting my thoughts and emotions down in writing always helps me to process, plus I learned so many things worth sharing.  Two of the topics we talked about this weekend were fear and forgiveness. Wow. I looked at the outlines when I arrived on Friday and thought "Meh. I don't really have an issue with either of these things right now." Oh how wrong I was.


I am sitting in an auditorium, full of chatty laughing women, having just a great time. I was unsuspecting. Fear. I don't have fear anymore! I paid a therapist a lot of money so I no longer held onto my fears! I have Jesus! I am fearless, I am courageous, I am tough.  And then, our session began. Sidenote: Pat Harley is an AMAZING speaker! I was so blessed by her words all weekend.  Ok anyway, Pat starts speaking and I'm taking notes and sort of thinking with like 1/8 of my brain. The more I listened, however, the more unsettled I felt. And that's when it hit me like a pillowcase full of cinderblocks: I am not fearless. I am not the courageous, strong person I once tricked myself into thinking I was. I am a coward. I have been holding onto so many fears stemming from other fears that I had rid myself of long ago. Tears sprung to my eyes as I quickly began to understand that I was letting fear run my life 99% of the time.  Honestly, all of the fears I hold on to are a)a result of my rape and b)things I didn't categorize as a fear. 


You see, I always viewed fears as things that were BIG DEALS. For example, a fear of heights, a fear of being killed, etc. I used to fear my rapist. I used to fear leaving my house because there are terrible people in the world and I didn't want to experience any more physical and mental pain. I don't fear those things any more. What do I fear? I fear being abandoned. I lost all of my friends once, and I am always fearful that it will happened again. The odds of it happening in a large group which was the case when I was assaulted, are very slim. However I always seem to panic when I think I'm annoying someone or talking too much. I am afraid that one or two people will decide I am too much trouble and leave. I fear screwing up my job. I fear never being in a relationship. I fear saying the wrong thing. I have so many 'little' fears, but I was shown that these little fears make it possible for me to slip up in big ways. Acting on these little fears causes big sin. I was forced to see that I was placing all of these fears as idols, and wasn't following Jesus as closely or fervently as I claimed. My fear was controlling every single action I had, but no more. One of the most powerful things I was able to do at this retreat was write down these fears on a piece of paper and lay it at the foot of the cross. I gave it to Jesus and that is where it will stay.




Forgiveness was the second topic of the day. I have struggled with forgiveness for an extremely long amount of time. When you are filled with as much anger and hurt as I am, it sometimes seems near impossible to forgive anyone. I was completely fine during this session until I decided to write out who I needed to forgive and for what. And then I lost it. For the second time that day I was able to give it to Jesus. After I made that decision, I sat and cried for a long time...it was draining. I have held on to so much anger. I can't be free until I choose to forgive. I was always under the false assumption that forgiveness is a 'one and done' deal. I could forgive once and would never need to again. I realized on Saturday that for awhile this is going to be a daily battle. I am going to have to choose to forgive every. single. day. Most days I need to forgive the same people for the exact same things. And that's ok. But I HAVE to do it. I can still have boundaries, and forgiving doesn't mean their actions are ok. But man alive, if I can't forgive others how can I ever expect them to forgive me? And why do I continue to put myself through the torture of anger and sadness?


The biggest take away from these experiences is that I need to stop holding on and give it to God.