Unlovable

The biggest mistake I ever made in my life was deciding that I was not a lovable person.
But I don't think I am the only one who has ever made that mistake.

We all have an image in our heads of what we should be, and when we don't reach those expectations we feel as if we have failed. Who sets these impossibly high standards of perfection? It is literally impossible for any of us as humans to become perfect creatures and yet we beat ourselves up when we can't do exactly that. It's sad, really, and I am guilty of doing it.

I am guilty of having so much self pity and self loathing (which is an incredibly difficult combination to deal with) that I decided that my current circumstances, which I had no control over, were going to define me and define my worth to other people. There were some who made a decision about our relationship for me, yes. But there were others who I decided would not receive a choice. No, I was not deserving of the love of my friends. I did not deserve friendship. My world was falling apart and I was scarred, battered, and bruised. I was exhausted.

No one should be forced to love someone whose soul is shattered, whose life feels dark. That kind of darkness engulfs your entire being and in turn seems to begin to engulf those around you as well. It's a crazy cycle, and I believed that by deeming myself "unlovable" I was saving those who were trying to rally around me.

I was trying to convince people that I was not deserving of their love, and that just simply wasn't true.

It took me 2 long years to figure out that, yes, I was lovable. I was not defined by my situation. I was letting my struggle define me when in reality I should have been the one defining my struggle. I could have lassoed those problems and formed them to my advantage. But instead I fell into the trap of acting like a victim.

Sure, I had people pointing out my good qualities often to make me feel like I was worth something to society. Though it was much appreciated, I didn't realize how much I needed to start loving and accepting myself to believe anything other people were saying to me.

I would receive compliments and in my head would think "that's not true" "I'm not good at anything" and a lot of other comments that would make my heart sore because I truly believed I was none of the good things that were pointed out.

I finally decided I needed something to change. I started making lists of all of the positive things I had going for me.  What were the good things about me? What were the bad? Pretty soon the 'good' list started to far outweigh the 'bad'.  I focused on the bad in a new way. I decided that if I deemed it 'bad' then what I needed to do was cease beating myself up over it, and change it instead.

When I started telling myself that I was of some worth, I could start believing it from other people. I stopped needing to hear it so much from other people. My worth and whether or not I deserve to be loved are not decisions that can be made by another. In fact, I don't think any of us can be fully accepting of love and friendship until we can accept and embrace our own self worth.

It's amazing, too, that once you start recognizing how great you are (and I'm not saying become conceited and go around telling people how wonderful you are, I'm saying be happy with who you are and allow yourself to see the positive) you easily begin to recognize the greatness of others. Qualities of some of my friends I never would have noticed when I was being swallowed by self pity, but once I attempted to dig out of that pit I discovered that I have met some incredible people with incredible gifts.

I guess what I'm saying is, start loving yourself. We are all lovable.  No one in the world is unlovable. And I think we should all start acting like it.

Thankful

On Facebook it seems like almost everyone I know has kept up with their days of thankfulness. I am not one of those people, but I do have a lot to be thankful for.  This post is just that, a list of what I'm thankful for.

1. I am thankful for my family. They have made life fun and interesting for the past 23 years and I would not trade them for anything.

2. Whitney: One of the few friends I have kept from college. She has seen me through good and bad.  This girl has pulled me from rock bottom and celebrated when I'm on top of the world. We nerd out together, she goes to see superhero movies with me even when she's already seen them, and doesn't get mad at me for breaking her washing machine.

3. Lauren: The first friend I made at work on that fateful day when we were both attempting to make a tree and needed brown bulletin board paper. Who knew that that small adventure would turn into gaining one of my best friends? She's seen me through a lot of ups and downs, talked me into buying a pet rabbit that I clearly didn't need, and is my favorite shopping buddy. Lauren does not sugar coat anything which is one of her finer qualities, and I can always trust her to tell me how things are.

4. Amy: My life twin! We both like weird vegetables, Backstreet Boys, and a million other things. Amy and I look just alike and confuse all of the kids at school (so fun!).  What I love most about Amy is she is so not judgey at all, and I know I can go to her to ask questions, vent, cry or laugh.  She puts up with my nonsense and never complains. She is so wonderful!

5. I am thankful for having a wonderful job.  I know there are people in the world who would complain about what teaching entails, but even when things get difficult I find myself being rewarded. It may not be the highest paying job, but a room full of smiles and laughter makes up for it.  I love my students and I could never see myself doing anything else. I am grateful for the opportunities I'm given to comfort, and to teach life lessons. These kids make me laugh all of the time and make me realize how blessed I am to be a teacher.

6. I'm thankful for my itty bitty shoebox apartment.  It's not much, and I have some ratchet neighbors....but I have a place to come home to everyday.  It keeps me safe and warm in the winter and cool in the summer. It's a place where I can relax when I'm tired, recharge when I'm sick, and a place where I can enjoy my friends.  This apartment has served me well....we once crammed 6 people in here for an entire weekend when I graduated. I like my little apartment!

7. I am thankful to have a car that works.  Love me some Little Blue.  My car is so cute and runs and is just perfect for me.  Plus the trunk fits lots of shopping bags ;)

8. I am thankful to be alive.  There are plenty of times I could have lost my life, and I was spared.  Life is tough, but I have help getting through it.  I'm glad that I get to live out the best and worst parts of it because it helps shape who I am and hopefully shows others that if I can make it through certain trials, then so can they.

9.  I am thankful for my relationship with the Lord.  There are days where living for Him is difficult, but I remember all He has done for me and I know that I can make it through any challenge I face.  I have been blessed beyond belief, and I don't deserve any of it.  I am grateful for those who helped me towards my walk with Him and for those who continue to help me.  There are times I ask questions that a 7 year old would probably ask, and none of them judge.  They answer with open minds and open hearts. God has placed many amazing people in my life, and has helped me through so much.

I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving! Remember that we don't need a day or a month to be thankful for the things in our life.  Everyday there are things we should be thankful for :)

My Obsession With Christina Perri, and What That Has to Do With My Mom

Ok so it is not unusual to hear that I've become absolutely obsessed with something, but holy guacamole I just need to share with the world how much I love Christina Perri. If you don't know who she is (and I certainly hope you do....if you don't you're missing out), she sings this, this (which came out the same summer I was raped, and I was obsessed with this song), and this for all you Twilight fans.  And I just heard her new song Human and I do believe it's my new favorite thing in the world.

I feel like every time she releases a new single she does it with me in mind.  It's like she has a 6th sense, she knows what I'm going through, she knows what I need to hear and she writes a song about it. It's like, thank you famous stranger for verbalizing what I'm thinking so I don't have to find words for it.  When people ask how I feel I can just quote some song lyrics or send them a youtube link ;)

So anyway I wasn't a huge fan of her first single, but the second one I ever heard was Arms. Let me tell you what the song Arms means to me.

At first that song sounded like the way I wanted to feel about a boyfriend, or something I could say I had with somebody someday. I take things so literally sometimes that I don't see what power words and actions can truly have.  I realized that those lyrics didn't mean anything to me that I originally thought.

To me this song was about my mom.
And to me it's still about my mom, but about a couple of other people as well.  There are very few people who can heal me with their words or their hugs.

I am a very guarded individual. I know you would never guess it, but I have a hard time communicating with people on how I feel and what I need.  I don't know what to say to people, and I don't know how to respond to what they say to me.

I push people away a lot (but I'm getting better at not doing that!).  My mom has been one of those people.  I never seem to remember any of the good she's done, I always seem to remember that one comment she made that hurt my feelings, or the mistakes she may have made.  I never appreciate the times I could feel her love for me. I never appreciate the fact that she made a lot of sacrifices to be my mom. She has been one of the only people who could ever wrap me up in their arms and I suddenly felt safe, and like I was home. The past couple of years I have put up a lot of walls, and she's been able to see right through them. She knows when I'm not OK, and she knows when I'm hurting.  Sometimes the best thing for her to do is back off and not acknowledge it. And that's exactly what I need. She doesn't always know what I need, but she's really good at picking up on my cues and following my lead.

There have been times where I couldn't understand how anyone could love me or why they would want to. Which is so silly now, because I'm awesome ok? My mom loved me through it. Both of us are not the best at showing affection (I'll hug mostly anybody, and I'll say I love you to people....but I've never really been like that with my family. It's not that I don't love them....we're just not like that!) and so sometimes I didn't believe she wanted to deal with me at all. Gosh I was so wrong.  She doesn't necessarily agree with all of the choices I make, she doesn't like taking big steps back...but she knows that it helps me.  She knows I have to make my own mistakes.  And even though we don't always agree, and sometimes we fight, she is always standing and waiting.

I know that when I need my mommy, my mommy will be there. I am not the best daughter in the world. I am not perfect. There are times I just don't want to talk to her because I know she'll say something "mom"like.  And there are times I'm sure she doesn't want to talk to me either. I can almost guarantee there have been times she's just wanted to pop me on the back of my head and call me an idiot, but we work through it. And I know she'll always be there when I'm ready.

I didn't get to choose my mom. I'm glad, though. Because I was born to a beautiful, smart, imperfect woman and I inherited her best qualities. She knows how to make me laugh, she knows about my long lived obsession with ABBA.  She's initiated Dancing Queen dance parties in the kitchen, traveled 700 miles to get me out of the hospital, watched me do an interpretive dance while holding a pickle, has been to every play and choir concert I have ever appeared in and she never once complained.  When I was raped she was down here as fast as she could be.  She dropped everything whenever I said I wanted something.  She had no idea what she was doing.  She was floundering like a fish out of water, just like the rest of us.  This was new territory.  No one we knew had ever dealt with something like this before and we had no idea what my reaction would be....what anyone's reaction would be.

She rolled with the punches, she took a lot of abuse from me and dealt with a lot of awful mood swings.  This past spring when I had a nightmare and woke up screaming, she was behind me on the couch in the blink of an eye holding me together when I felt like I was falling apart. She let me cry and didn't judge me.  I know I don't say it nearly enough, and I know sometimes I seem ungrateful.  But (I know you're reading this) I love you, Mom. A lot.

I want to give a shout out to all of the women in my life in NC too who act like my mom sometimes.  When I was pushing my mom away you all knew that was the opposite of what I needed to be doing.  You knew I needed strong people in my life.  But instead of telling me that, you just helped me pick up the pieces and showed me what things needed to be like. You showed me that I really did need my mom.

But you also showed me that there are a lot of loving, caring people in this world who will rally around you and help you back up when you fall as long as you give them a chance.

I love all of you, too.

So I say to you, blog readers of America (and surrounding countries), hug your mommas because they love you and even if you don't act like it all the time you love them.

And to Christina Perri, please keep writing songs that pertain to my life. I love you, too. :)

Ruts

Do you ever look back at a moment in your life and wonder, why? Why was I chosen to experience that event? Why did I make the choices that led to that moment? How would things have been different if I hadn't made certain decisions?

I'm sure we all do it. And I am also sure that we each spend way too much time focusing on those moments, whether they were good or bad. What's the point on obsessing over the past? What's done is done and none of us can change that.

Unfortunately it's not that simple.

I used to completely blame myself for what was done to me.  I used to worry about it, think about it, and imagine all of the alternate endings to that particular story. It was useless. It always is. As I said before, what's the point? See, then I graduated to placing the blame on the right person. None of it was my fault, I couldn't have done anything to stop it, none of the choices I made should have had any affect on the choices he made. And finally I got to a place where I decided that I didn't care whose fault it was, I just wanted to put it to rest and not worry about it anymore.  Thinking had taken up way too much of my life already, and I was just going to accept that it happened and move on. Problem solved, life goes on, I am happy.

And then BOOM. Right when I least expected it, right when everything was going as perfectly as possible, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  Who knew that one tiny seed of doubt could bring everything crashing back down?

I had a nightmare. Things happened in that nightmare that I never remember happening, but that is how some of my memories of that night had revealed themselves in the past. I found myself caught up in a lot of confusion. What was real? Were they all my fears just surfacing in a dream? And why the heck is all of this coming up now? Now that I'm finally feeling better.

Is this a sick joke? Am I supposed to be strong enough to handle it now? I guess in a way I am strong enough to handle it.

I went a couple of days going through the same things I used to go through. It was my fault. I should have done more. Why did this happen to me? Why did I have to be the one to go through it? Why couldn't it have happened to someone more resilient, and not someone who was so sensitive?

And then miraculously after a couple of days those thoughts stopped. I realized how silly it was to think like that. I used my techniques, I cried it out, I phoned a friend...I used all of my lifelines to pull myself back out.  This was a small rut, nothing like the huge dark pit I had spent two years trying to claw my way out of.

A weekend that started off on a rotten foot full of emotional roller coasters, ridiculous (yet much needed) tears and a lot of sleeping (the best cure for any affliction in my opinion), I ended it right. I ended it realizing that I am a lot tougher than when I started this journey. I ended it knowing that I can get through just about anything life has to throw at me, and I can do it with a smile on my face, with friends by my side and a full heart.

I don't have to go through it alone. I don't have to be afraid when some of the tough stuff resurfaces. I don't have to pretend to be ok.  It's ok to not be ok.  I've learned this weekend that what I was experiencing was not self pity, but instead it was my brain trying to wade it's way through the muck.  I learned that everything I've learned through therapy and talking to people I trust is what's helping me deal.  I really haven't dealt with it yet, not fully anyway.  But now I have the tools to deal with it.

The past 2 days could have resulted in me falling back into that dark pit.  But instead I saw it as a bump in the road and moved on.  Not that it was easy.  Ask anyone I talked to freaking out this weekend how easy going it was haha!

Anyway the whole point of this post was to point out that doubting your past is stupid, but it's also a part of dealing with it.  The other point was that you don't have to be strong all of the time, but you also can't waste your time pitying yourself and not trying to work through the parts of life that aren't so pretty.

Blossoming Despite Many Trials

You know what? There are some people  in the world I feel really sorry for.  They are miserable. They don't know how to find joy in simple things, don't know how to laugh at themselves, don't know how talented and precious and wonderful they are, and they don't know Jesus.

I know all of those things. I didn't always know them.

But I learned.

If I hadn't learned all of those things, I wouldn't be at a place today that I am finally comfortable in.  I finally feel right in my own skin.  I've realized that the people who I've been hurt by don't deserve my bitterness. They instead deserve my forgiveness.  I feel bad for them.  I pity my rapist. What a tough life it must be to take something so precious as a sense of security away from someone just so you can feel something.  I don't hate him. I'm not even angry.  And I may even go as far as to say that I'm grateful to an extent that I had to go through such a trial.  I would not have gained the knowledge and confidence and strength that I finally possess had it not been for that night.  I'm grateful for the people who cheered me on and encouraged me as I began to stand on my own two feet again.

In some ways 2 years ago, I reverted back to a child.  The other day a child at school told me that Lauren told them "She's a 7 year old trapped in a woman's body!"  I laughed so hard! Everyone who truly knows me knows that I am just a big kid at heart. I am immature, and I still like to color and I would pick a birthday at Chuck E. Cheese over a birthday at some fancy restaurant any day.  However, the childlike qualities I have possessed for the past 2 years were not the fun qualities.  I whined incessantly.  I needed constant attention and supervision.  I couldn't be left by myself for certain periods of time.  I needed people desperately.  That wasn't a big deal at first, but then I got used to it.  And once I got used to it, I couldn't handle when people would back off and give me space.  People were willing to stick it out and support me at first, but as time went on I became a more difficult person to deal with.  I don't blame any of my old friends for walking away.  Really it was a good thing, because it proved to all involved that those specific friendships were not solid, they weren't true, and they would never survive time.

I am thankful for the friends I have now.  They have proven to me that you can care about someone as if they're blood, even when they aren't.  I have learned what true friendship is and I have learned that I love them a lot.  They saw me at my worst and didn't run away.  Instead they did what they could to help me feel better. They worried about me, they prayed for me, they didn't get upset when I would call them crying over things that now seem silly.  They drove me back and forth to work and doctors appointments, forced me to eat when I would have rather withered away and disappeared.

And they helped me learn about myself again.

I remember telling someone about a month ago "I am so sick of being needy." And her response? "Well then stop." I laughed and thought "is this woman crazy?" She wasn't.  Because the next day I decided that I was going to do what I needed to do without worrying about pleasing everyone else. Making people like me no longer took priority. It worked.

I gained back some independence.  I learned that I like who I am, and I need to be happy with my life. I've only got one shot at this life and I am going to do everything I can to make it a good one.  Simple things bring happiness into my heart. I feel like a human again. I know that I cannot expect perfection.  I know there will be times where certain events will pop into my brain and I might cry, or feel upset.  But I am just so glad I'm not focusing on it anymore.

I am stronger.  I went through one of the worst traumas I can imagine, and I came out ok. I was broken for a while, but I slowly was (and still am) being put back together and that girl ended up being way cooler than the original.  Honestly, if I could survive sexual assault and the past two years of coping with that assault, then I can conquer anything.

I am really just enjoying everything so much right now. God has surrounded me with wonderful people, and He continues to teach me to be content in what He's given.

Life is fun.  I'm overjoyed to be alive!

I also want to take the time to mention that if you ever have questions about what I've been through you can always ask.  A few of you have sent messages asking about things and have said "I don't want this to upset you, don't answer if you don't want to." I always want to answer! Don't ever feel nervous about talking to me about my assault.  A few months ago I may have had a different attitude about how everything had turned out, but now that has changed.  I would love to talk about it with any of you...it was a tough time, but I'm alright.  And I hope that someone someday sees this whole blog and can see how you can move from rock bottom to on top of the world with time and healing and support.

I do have a favor to ask all of you.  I want you to pray (and if you aren't religious go ahead and send good thoughts).  I don't ask that you pray for me, I ask that you pray for the women who are being assaulted as we speak.  Someone in the U.S. is raped every 2 minutes.  Pray that these women will be able to fight through the many difficulties that come with being a survivor and that they find a healthy support system that works for them.

And to end this post, I leave you with a cute picture of me feeding a cute calf. ;)

Help Me

This post is most definitely not going to be all unicorns and rainbows. I wanted it to be, but I heard some very ignorant people have a conversation about rape in the middle of Wendy's and I am feeling some sort of way.  I know it's a topic people are not 100% comfortable with. I know it's a topic most people don't know enough about.  But good gravy I think it's about time someone speaks up, and if that person has to be me then so be it. 

I was raped. It sucked.

I am still trying to recover. Guess what? Recovery sucks more than the assault itself. 

I don't find rape jokes funny and I don't appreciate when you throw around the word "rape" when things don't go your way.  Someone shortchanging you does not equal what happened to me. The dictionary definition of rape is "to force to have sexual intercourse."  I am so SICK of hearing that word used to describe anything other than the definition I just gave you.  Do you know for the longest time I couldn't hear or use that word without wanting to vomit?  I saw several packs of grape things at Walmart once and my brain refused to read the g in grape.  It was like the universe wanted to remind me of my assault. It was terrible. 

Stop saying "she deserves to get raped" or "well when she ends up getting raped she shouldn't come crying to me..."  You are a terrible person if you say either of those things. Plain and simple. Nobody deserves to be violated in such a way. I don't care how horribly you treat people, you don't deserve for someone to abuse your body so they can feel some sick sense of control. And if whomever you are referring does happen to get raped, she should have someone she can go cry to.  No one should ever have to feel like they need to hide what has happened to them.

The way people brush off sexual assault is sickening. 

Why, as a society, are we accepting this as a norm? 

Why isn't anyone DOING anything about it?

You know, I see things all of the time about Americans going overseas and commenting on the issue of rape in other countries.  

What about our own country?

I am not trying to downplay the issue of rape at all. I feel that it is an issue this entire world is dealing with, and I am not saying that any woman should have to go through it. I don't care where they live. It's wrong.

But have you ever noticed that people as a whole are increasingly outraged by instances of rape in other countries, especially countries where we already perceive that women are oppressed? Yet, when a teenage girl who was drinking at a high school party and taken advantage of, everyone is quick to question. Why was she drinking? She should have known better. 

Hypocrites. Like you have never made a poor choice in your life. Based on your poor choices, do you deserve to be murdered? Do you deserve to be raped? Most of you are reading this thinking "well of course not!" like it's a given. 

Start acting like it. 

A 20 year old girl should not feel ashamed that she kissed a guy at a party, or that she drank too much.  She shouldn't be harassed because she made a mistake that led to a guy attacking her. Why are we allowing this kind of thinking!?

Think of your mothers, daughters, aunts, cousins, sisters, best friends....

How would you feel if someone took away their power to decide what to do with their bodies? Would you desert them and ridicule them? Or would you be one of the few who decided to stand up and do something about it?

We cannot sit by while so many beautiful, young girls are taking their lives. Rehtaeh Parsons, Cherice Moralez, Audrey Potts.  These girls were harassed and disappointed and so deep in inner turmoil that they couldn't take it anymore. All because someone wanted to feel a sense of control.  These beautiful young women had so much to offer this world. They were loved.  They were daughters and sisters and friends.  People miss them. People are left in pain.  

Rape does not only affect the victim.  It affects everyone who cares about the victim. 

After I was raped my entire family changed. My friendships changed. Some for the better, some for the worse. I have friends who I've caught at times taking on my pain. They hurt for me when I can't feel anymore. When I am numb, they are anything but.  

Two hours changed my life and the life of the people around me. 

A few choices changed my world forever. I can never get back what was taken from me. My sense of security is gone, and the girl I was before my assault is gone forever. I used to complain that I wish the old me would come back.  I was wrong to want that. 

The Kayleigh that has formed since her rape is a strong person.  I did not get there on my own at all. It took a lot of people.  My family, my friends, God. They all helped me get to a point where I decided enough is enough.  I am not going to sit and watch the world pass me by.  I will not wallow in self pity. The women of this world need a voice. 

I want to try and be that voice. At least for some of you.  If just ONE of you listens to what I have to say I will have succeeded in my efforts. 

Here are some things we need to do:

1. Stop asking women what they were wearing or what they were doing prior to their assault. It's none of your damn business. The girl wearing a turtleneck has just as much a chance of being raped as the girl with the low cut shirt. Stop being ridiculous. Stop victim blaming.

2. When a girl tells you she's been raped the first words out of your mouth should be "what can I do to help you".  Nothing else. Keep your mouth shut until she responds. Maybe she just wants you to listen. And that's what you'll do dang it. 

3. STOP MAKING EXCUSES FOR RAPISTS.  We are a disgusting people who put more value on sports and how rape accusations will affect the rapists than we do on the effects on the victim. Steubenville is a great example. Another example is the Daisy Coleman case in Maryville, Missouri. 

4. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Seriously. So much pain can be avoided if people just kept their negativity to themselves. 

5. We need to start recognizing male survivors as well. Just because they are men does not mean they cannot be forced or coerced into unwanted sexual activity. Don't be ignorant. 

6. START SPREADING THE WORD. Sitting here reading my blog is not going to help. Do I want you to read it? Yeah. But don't just SIT THERE. Donate to RAINN or to Project Unbreakable. Find ways to volunteer to help survivors in your community. Talk about rape.

Talk about rape. 

Stop allowing people to continue to whisper about this epidemic like it's an untouchable subject. We need to fight! We need to fight for each other. Fight for your sons and daughters. Your mothers and grandmothers. Your wives, your aunts. Your sisters, your cousins, your best friends, your coworkers. Let the world know you won't stand for it anymore!

Reading an article about a rape case and thinking "oh my gosh that's horrible" is not going to help anything. 

Do something, anything.  Share my words, share the words of other. Use social media to spread the word.....people don't want to know what kind of jelly you had on your PB&J today....they want to know what you're passionate about. They NEED to know what you stand for. 

We can stop this. If we all work together we can stop this. We can give survivors a voice. 

All I need you to do is believe that your voice is important. That your opinion matters.  Don't do it for me....do it for the people you surround yourself with. 

But please, I beg you, do something. Stop this. 

Help me fix this. 

Down That Road

Last night I bought a book on my Kindle.  I started it this morning and I'm almost finished with it, but I really felt the need to take a break and write this blog post first. It's important.  The book is called Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher. I saw the title on an article on CNN the other day about books that have been challenged/banned and instantly wanted to read it.  The book is about a girl named Hannah who killed herself and left behind thirteen cassette tapes...each explaining how one of thirteen people contributed to the feelings that drove her to her death.  It is the most raw, beautiful, and honest book I have ever had in my life. And it has prompted me to tell a story.  

A story about the day I decided I wanted to die. 

I've written about my suicide attempt(s) before, but this is more than that.  In October of 2011 I contemplated suicide when Whitney invited me over and made me hopeful that I could beat anything that was thrown my way.  In November my thinking totally changed.

I was taking one of my nightly walks around the neighborhood. I knew it wasn't the safest thing, but I figured that if bad things could happen somewhere where you thought you were safe, then why bother avoiding the situations that made you even more vulnerable? Bad things happen either way, and secretly I hoped I would be attacked on the street.  Girls are believed more if they're raped by a stranger.  Maybe someone would finally stop the madness going on around me if I was hurt in a way that made sense to them. 

As I was walking I caught a whiff of one of my favorite smells....burning leaves.  I heard people laughing, I heard music playing.  I could taste the crisp air and feel the chilly breeze work its way through my entire body.  And that is the exact moment I decided I wanted to die.  

I missed all of the things I was experiencing in that moment, and I knew the joy it was bringing me in that exact point in time would only be temporary.  I would keep walking and the hurt would come back.  No amount of walking would take me far enough away from the whispers, from the scars.  No.  I would have to leave. Permanently. As I made my way home I felt an eerie sense of calm wash over me. It felt good to not worry for once.  I remember that night perfectly.  I sat cross legged on my bed with a bottle of strawberry Arbor Mist and a bowl of popcorn.  I had Doctor Who playing in the background.  And I was plotting my escape.  I had a lot of options.  I could use a knife, or pills.  I could drive my car off of the road and into the trees.  Knife would be too painful.  Trees wouldn't guarantee death, and I didn't want to risk being a vegetable for the rest of my life. The whole purpose of me wanting to kill myself was to make life easier for the people around me, not make it more difficult.  Pills it was. I felt peace. 

I planned what day I would carry out my plan.  I had to be careful about this.  I didn't want anyone to even have an inkling as to what I was going to do.  

See, life was tough at that point.  If you asked people on campus, I was a huge slut.  People who never knew me sure acted like they knew everything about me. At first the pain of the taunting displayed itself in a very outwardly way.  I would cry openly when people would make snide remarks.  I would hug myself tight, bow my head and walk away as quickly as possible.  Then I started becoming numb.  On the outside I showed nothing.  On the inside was another story.  A war was raging within me, and with every new wound it was getting harder to fight.  

I had heard people tell me I was going to hell for accusing someone of rape. I clearly remember telling one of those people, "Hell couldn't be any worse than this."  I was okay with living in a fiery pit for eternity, because back then it seemed a lot more appealing than staying on this earth with a lot of people who so obviously didn't like me.  

Part of me hoped that when I died, I would become a ghost so I could haunt the people who hurt me for the rest of their lives.  I would make them miserable, just as they had made me.  The guy who I had considered my best friend, who set me up, who knew what was happening and did nothing to stop it that night....I wanted him to be miserable.  I wanted to haunt my rapist.  I never wanted him to be able to forget what he did to me.  He didn't deserve peace.  He deserved his own living hell. I considered leaving notes for people detailing exactly how they hurt me and how they contributed to my ultimate decision of suicide.  I realized later on that there was no point in ruining any more lives.  Once I was gone, everyone could move on.

As the days went by between the time I made my choice and when I was going to execute my plan, I started wondering about a lot of things. I wondered if anyone would bother coming to my funeral.  Would there even be a funeral?  Would people who hated me show up and pretend to be sad so they could save face? Would my mom and dad be able to handle it? Would someone be there to hold my mom's hand as she said good bye? Would someone comfort my dad?  What would people say about me? How would people decide to feel about my choice?

People would eventually forget about me, I knew that much.  When someone we know dies we always say things like "I'll never forget you" and "Not a day will pass when I won't think about you."  Those are a bunch of lies.  We all would like to think that we would never forget someone we loved.  We'd like to believe that we'll think of them always.  I think that we start out that way when we grieve, but eventually we move on with our lives. We go from thinking about them everyday, to thinking about them every other day, to having them pop into our minds on the rare occasion that we come across something they used to like or say.  That's life.  You have to keep moving.  You can't focus on loss for the rest of your life, or you're not truly living.  And that is a truth I didn't realize then.

I was grieving loss. I was grieving the loss of my sense of self, my sense of safety.  I was grieving the loss of my dreams and goals.  I was literally planning on focusing on that for the rest of my life.  

As you all know, the day came and a friend intervened, and that is why I can still sit here and talk to you today.

I am a much happier person today.  I still have scars.  The hurt is still there, but I'm learning to cope with it and take things one day at a time. 

Some of you will read this and know who has hurt me over the past couple of years.  Some of you will have no clue. Some of you won't care.  I just want you all to realize that you need to be so careful about what you say to people around you.  One mean comment could send them over the edge in a snap.  You don't know when someone is in extreme emotional pain, because you can't see it.  You need to proceed with caution.

Know what it feels like to be in that much pain? It feels like a 400 pound woman has ripped your heart out of your chest and is stomping on it while she's wearing 6 inch pumps.  Imagine this happening with duct tape on your mouth...no matter how hard you try to cry out, no noise leaves your mouth.  You can't verbalize how much it hurts, but you know it does.  You cry out in any way you know how.  You try to show people with your actions that you need their help to stop the pain.

But nobody can hear you, and nobody understands your actions.

Why are you crying?
Why are you boring?
Why are you angry?
Why are you lashing out?

You try to scream out "there is a giant stiletto wearing woman stomping my beating heart to a pulp! Help me!"  But you are on mute.

They leave.

I urge everyone to start listening.  With your ears.  With your eyes.  With your heart.  Listen.

Notice when someone in your life needs help.  Don't let them fight through their messes by themselves. Sometimes it is just too hard. 

I'm fine now.  The only desire I have is to live.  I want to live as fully as possible.  My pain is not gone.  I deal with a lot of self doubt, and a lot of anxiety.  I fear that people will leave me and I make that so obvious that if I were some of you I would have run away from me ages ago.

And yet, here you sit, loving me.  

Many of you were not in my life yet when I had these thoughts.  And now you're here and I am so grateful.  There are days that are so difficult, when I just need someone to sit and hold my hand and tell me everything will be ok.  And I have people who are willing to do that now, and it's amazing.  

If any of you ever feel like you want to end your life, I urge you to call a suicide prevention hotline.  Or call me.  Or email me. Or reach out to a close friend.  

Because you are too beautiful to end your life.  The world needs you in it.  Everyone on this planet wouldn't be the same without you here, and you deserve to live your life.

Don't let anyone or anything take the desire to live away from you.

And if someone does, I want you all to promise me you will fight as hard as you can to rediscover that desire.

Because I did.  And I'm a better person because of it.