4 Years

Today I realized, with surprising pain, that it's been 4 years.

4 years since he kissed me. 4 years since my battle with boys started and the abuse ensued at hands not of my family. 4 years since I realized that G-d wouldn't save me from everything the way I thought He would.

Today, of all days, it hit me with the force that it had when it first happened. It hit me like a head-on collision with a train. Like one thousand anvils crushing me from all directions. Like the weight of the world is sitting on my rib cage, keeping me from taking any more breaths, yet I am forced to keep going. Forced to keep breathing, and living, and surviving. Forced to continue on in this world when nobody cares. Nobody gives a flying f#ck if I were to wake up each day.

Still, I wake up. Day after day I show up to younglife, to work, to bible study, and to my other obligations. I show up for people who don't care. People who wouldn't notice if I were never to show up again. I show up for people who have hundreds of other people that they could lean on, should lean on, because it's an inconvenience for them to meet with me. I'm a hassle, an inconvenience, and a thorn.

4 years ago, my world was shattered. It began a path of my delusions being stripped away, my hope in a better life being crushed, and my desire for a husband and a family began to fade. Slowly, these hopes and dreams became painful wounds, scars to be reopened hundreds of times since. I discovered that I don't matter. My boundaries, my voice, my wants, and my "no" doesn't matter. I realized that my feeble support system was incapable of seeing me through the realness of life.

It came to my attention that life isn't a love story, it's not some great romance. Life, maybe not yours but mine, is not some fairy tale. My life is simply something to be survived. There is no knight in shining armor. G-d won't protect me from the evil in this world. I can't find happiness, despite trying everything everyone and my counselor has suggested. My life isn't supposed to be one of the top 5, I'm not supposed to be important, and my deepest desires to know people and to be known, won't be realized.

Happy endings are for other people. Love is for other people. Miracles that show them day after day that G-d saves them, is for other people. My life is about the realization that tragedies lie around every corner. That loneliness won't kill you with any type of speed, and that major depression is a lifelong fight that nobody will show up to help you defeat. My life is about showing grace and forgiveness to others, but being constantly beat down. My life is about learning to deal with disappointments so much that you stop hoping. I'm a top student in the university of being there for others who have no qualms with pushing me aside. I am a master at being invisible, learning to deal with lives crushing blows alone, and surviving years alone.

Ends to New Beginnings

This week was the end of group therapy and my bible study. It's been rough. I've really enjoyed the friendships that have come to be in both groups, the growth that I've shown, and having places to be to get me out of the house. Those few things can really help improve a person's outlook on life and well-being!

I'm fixin' to tell my sweet little counselor that she was right... right about finding community, right about people being out there that are willing to support me, and right about being able to share and not scaring everyone away. She has been such a blessing.

As is normal with the final bits of anything, there is time to remember how far you've come and what has happened. We share thanks for the people that we've met and the things we've learned. There is an exchanging of phone numbers, encouragement, and a "I hope to see you soon" or "email/text me when you get news about..."

And, as G-d tends to do in my life, there is a theme.

It dawned on me partly in the car today, and I began weeping... in traffic... with my dog sniffing out the window and warm spring air blowing in. Then, as I sat down to begin processing all of the things that have happened this week (by typing them here) G-d flat out told me because I wasn't fully getting it.

Then He keeps bringing up more examples as I continue to write!

So here it is: the theme for this week is sex. What it costs, how it's abused, how it's affected me, and how it has shaped the course of history.

You guys know, because I talk about it in most every post, but I have a history of sexual abuse. Not once, not twice, but countless times. And not at the hands of just one, nor two, but at least three guys. It was a realization that hit me hard this week.

In group, we were encouraged to talk abut something on our last day of group that we would regret not saying while we were in group. I couldn't think of anything. And, since my personal counselor is also the leader of the group, she encouraged me again in my personal session and even prompted me on what I could and should consider talking about. I spent all of 2 weeks pondering what it is that I should share, with nothing to say for myself until the day of group. I wrote it down on 3 pages of my journal and walked in.

Group was nearly over when my counselor asked if I had anything to say. I warned them that I was just going to read it, because I needed to say these things but they are hard for me to say (I left out that I often "shut down" *read dissociate* when I begin thinking/talking about these things).

I wept.

I cried as I read.

I couldn't see the pages so I had to lift my journal up in front of my face so that the tears weren't blocking all of the writing.

And I said it. I said the things that I have had such a hard time saying. I spoke the words, "... I have suffered through countless acts of sexual and other abuse. I have never once gotten to choose to have sex or not have sex, these things were forced upon me. I battle daily with my dreams, desires, and my broken sense of the world.

"However, I can see my healing. I have been made clean, and pure, and have been dressed in white. I've seen it!

"Somehow, these evil things will be used for good. I don't know how, but it'll happen."

Of course, I share a little bit more, but those are things that I have had such a hard time being able to say. I couldn't even admit them to myself a couple of months ago and now I've said them out loud.

Then, another girl in our group shared and she cried through her part of sharing. I cried right along with her. It was so difficult to not just reach over and hug her tight! But, knowing how I deal with things, I don't want to be touched when explaining how somebody else has used touch to so seriously damage me. I asked her, when it was all done, if I could hug her and she accepted. My heart breaks that she has experienced the things that she has. I have gone through many of the same things, but it hurts even more hearing that someone else has had to endure that crap.



I told you guys the theme for the week was sex... Well, even in bible study, the video at the end of the study was of the Q&A portion of the conference that the study was based on. Again, for those who have forgotten or who didn't know, I was doing the study Anointed Transformed Redeemed about David. We can't talk about David without talking about Bathsheba, right? But that was such a small part of the study and it was weeks ago!

This week, in the bonus video, it was the filmed portion of the conference that was the Q&A (I already told you guys that). However, this is important because somebody asked something about marriage or how to minister to husbands or something... and Kay Arthur, Priscilla Shirer, and Beth Moore (not so much Beth), began this whole thing about sex!

In a room full of married women, at church, this was a time of great amounts of laughter for them! For me, surely the only single girl under the age of 30 who has not had a great relationship with the subject of sex, this was a serious struggle. Kay touched on singleness and the relationship you should have with sex: she said we should not be having it. Well, duh, and I'm not. It was just a moment where being left out converged with a moment of being triggered and disappointed and all of that happened at church.

*deep breaths*

Through several things, I have been convicted of something that I have not come to terms with, and a huge reason why I'm probably having a hard time this week: sex and I do not have a good relationship. I'm not saying that if we did, that I would be partaking before marriage. But it has been used as such a strong force of evil and destruction in my life that I don't look forward to it. I don't hope for it, I don't look forward to my wedding night or to being married. I don't look forward to "making" kids or to birthing them because it is all a reminder of sex.

I learned this week that many victims/survivors have such a bad relationship with sex because of the abuse, that some of the self harm can be in the form of touching themselves. Trying to find pleasure from how the body reacts and the way that their body probably reacted in the face of abuse. One thing I haven't confessed before is that I have struggled with this myself.

After my first assault, rape, weekend of horror, I was convinced that my body was broken. He was touching me, doing these things that he knew would get a response from my body because he had had sex with other girlfriends in the past. Me, having never done any of that before and having not wanted to do it then, did not react. There was no pleasure, no excitement, no enjoyment. So, I concluded that my body was broken and that I was one of the few people that suffer from not being able to find any pleasure from sex and from being touched.

So, I tried to "recreate" the things that should bring about a sensation that people had described as fun, or pleasurable, or even a need. My body kind of reacted, but I was filled with so much shame and despair and sadness.

Even with this misery, it became a compulsion. I wanted to cut. I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted to feel something.

I didn't cut. I did hurt myself. And the only thing I ever truly felt was hatred, disgust, shame, despair, regret, and ridiculous darkness.

I stopped shortly after attempting this act.

Then came exfiance. After his initial rape, I couldn't get away. There were so many assaults. So much manipulation. So many excuses, bullshit stories, bible verses he used to tell me I belonged to him and that my body was no longer my own. Blah, blah, blah. He introduced me (read *forced me*) to do things I had never imagined. Things that truly revulsed me and I actually begin cutting and self harming and things that made me want to die.

After that, touching myself became a way that I could control things. I got no pleasure from what he did. Sure, my body would react, but I did not like it. So my brain, making its new pathways, associated those reactions with not being a good thing. In fact, it was associated with pain and depression and all terrible things!

By controlling it myself, when he was not with me, I felt like my body wasn't actually broken, like someday it might be okay... aaaaaaannnd it increased my shame and despair ten-fold.

Fast-forward to this week: Things that I did not expect, but that definitely needed to happen, in fact happened. This topic was brought up and somebody that I have admired and loved learning from/with shared about her struggles with this. Then, to her, I whispered "me too."

It was something that needed to happen. That I was terrified of anyone else finding out about. And now, I have to face it. I have to fight this. I have to work through it and learn to deal with these things. Then, I have hope for healing.

I've been studying the ladies of the bible, primarily the Tamar's, Rahab, Bathsheba, and various others (especially those with abuse, sexual misconduct, and those who were broken [all of us]). I'm finding encouragement and hope, but it's also allowing G-d to expose many of my deep, dark secret places. It hurts, but I hope that someday it'll be worth the pain of debriding (I think I spelled that wrong...)

Christian Lingo

If you know of anyone who goes to church, I'm sure you are familiar with the Christian Lingo. Church-goers say things about "forgiveness", "redemption", "mercy", "grace", a "broken past", "difficult seasons", etc, etc, etc.

Now, G-d does do all of these things! However, it's a pet peeve of mine, when I go to church or a bible study, and these are the only words out of the person's mouth but they don't go into any of the nitty gritty stuff. They don't tell you what G-d brought them through, or forgave them from, or how He showed them mercy and grace. 

Is the Bible not made up of hundreds of stories? G-d doesn't just say "forgiven, mercy, redeemed, forgiven, blah, blah, blah," over and over again. He gives us examples! He gives us stories! He lets us see what thing happened, how He worked, and what the results were.

In this way, He helps give us examples of how life worked out for others and He talks on most life issues.

Recently, I went to a bible study where our guest speaker talked for 45 minutes without saying a thing. She repeated "love" and "redeemed" and "broken past" and the other few words in the list above over and over for 45 minutes. We periodically listened to a podcast that had more of the same and listened to a couple songs that, you guessed it, repeated the same words.

I left frustrated.

In the car, at 9:30 p.m., I called my mom for a debriefing on the way home because I was confused. In the process of my drive home, she and I hashed it all and I realized that I had heard nothing. Nothing of this teachers life, no stories, no meat and potatoes, no information whatsoever. It was like going to a mall and getting suckers into one of those kiosks in the middle where the salesperson will talk to you with the same 6 words over and over for 45 minutes and you feel like you've lost weeks of your life. There was no learning, no help, no encouragement because there was no substance.

Growing up, I experienced this many times. I think it's a large reason why people stop going to church, stop going to Bible studies, and stop trying to learn about the L-rd. Yes, it's hard to fight past the crap to be able to get to actual information that can be any type of help and can bring excitement to the learner. However, if you work to get to the interesting stuff, and keep fighting for learning worth while things, it is so worth it! There is such blessing to be discovered!

And, for those of you that fight to get to the meat and potatoes of the Word and of G-d's teachings, share that learning with others!!! We don't have to leave the teaching to pastors, t.v. teachers, and random preachers. Anyone who is willing to learn can be willing to share with others. Obviously, make sure that you are sharing truths only, but you could be responsible for helping keep another person from letting their faith fade because they don't have the energy to wade through the crap.

Keep on my friends.

I'll keep you posted with what it is that I'm learning. So far I've filled up almost 1/3 of a notebook in less than a week. So far I'm studying women in the bible and it is shocking how many of them experienced abuse, trauma, suffering, and other heartaches. It's shocking to me that these types of stories are not shared!!! Especially in a time when the #metoo movement is so prevalent and girls/women/everyone are looking for support and love through their journey to healing after trauma.

"This Was Supposed to Happen"

Ever since my first instance of sexual abuse, I have begun to take "encouragement" from people differently. I have struggled with things they intend as being caring, and often become angry. While I try to listen and accept what they are saying with grace, there is often misinformation and ignorance behind these words.

One of the worst offenses for me comes with the phrases:

"G-d meant for this to happen."

"He only gives certain things to people that He knows can handle it."

"This was meant to be a way to help shape you for further life purposes."

{fill in from your experiences}




While I agree that G-d can bring forth beauty from ashes and healing from unimaginable pain, I truly do not believe that He causes things like trauma to happen.

Often, I have heard from pastors, rabbis, teachers, and mentors that G-d does not cause bad things to happen. Yet, in the very next week's sermon, they teach about how G-d causes things to happen so that you might be taught lessons and these just so happen to occur as hard times, traumatic instances, and sins.

These two separate teachings sound like contradictions to me.

He might allow them to happen, but He does not cause them to happen. G-d cannot cause sin to occur, nor does He tempt us. He does not cause traumatic instances, death, or destruction to occur. It's not who He is! G-d is wholly good, ALL of the time. Isn't that what we are taught from the same stage that is instructing us that we screwed up to allow devastation befall us?

With this argument that G-d does not cause bad things, my mind is drawn to the story of Job. G-d did not cause Job's children to die. Nor did G-d cause Job's servants and livestock to perish. G-d did not steal away Job''s wealth, happiness, health, or destroy his life. What we see in this story is something that continues to shock me and cause turmoil, because G-d essentially allowed Satan to have full control over the circumstances befalling Job. Then factor in that this occurs in what seems to be a BET of Job's faithfulness. However, G-d did not cause a single thing to happen to Job, only Satan did that. G-d allowed it all to happen, within very precise boundaries that He gave Satan.

I don't know about you, but it bothers me to my core that G-d does not completely protect us. However, He does only allow things to happen to us that He knows we can bear. Still, HE DOES NOT CAUSE US HARM!!!

Am I getting my point across?

This is why, when people tell me that G-d only gives us what we can handle, and He meant for us to go through certain traumas, it is incredibly offensive to me. In these times, the words coming out of their mouths are telling me that G-d chose my abuser, gave him the idea to sexually assault and rape me, and that all of this was in His (G-d's) plan for my life.

THAT'S TOTAL CRAP!

It is not the picture we are given in the Bible. It is not the teachings that are given from the mouth of G-d. And I completely understand why people walk away from G-d after traumatic life happenings, if these are the only things they are taught about G-d!

I understand that people do not say these "encouraging" things out of malice, or hatred, or from a place of trying to harm others. However, it is still not G-dly encouragement nor is it truth. I get that my personal offense is taken, basically, due to an issue with semantics and the way these leaders and teachers use their words. Not all survivors are able to process the sermons in this way, though, and so they simply hear that their abuse was their fault according to religion and religious leaders. How can anyone come into the healing and peace of G-d if they believe G-d caused them this anguish and that He and His people hold the survivor at fault for what has happened?




Recently I watched a video of a pastor telling people not to ask "Why me L-rd?" He recounts a sermon he had taught about brokenness, trials, and life struggles. He encourages his flock to not ask G-d "why me" when going through seasons of difficulty because G-d chose them for that difficulty. That He uses these things to teach people how to be people that G-d needs them to be. While I appreciate the heart and meaning behind this message, I think we often get trauma mixed up with seasons of teaching and the trials that are meant to teach us things. No wonder there is so much shame in the body of believers! This teachings tells survivors of horrendous evils that it was their fault that a particular thing happened because: they weren't strong enough, G-d wanted something bad to happen to them, they weren't good enough, their life is destined to be a life of pain, and they deserved the things that happened to them. Along side them (teachers, pastors, etc), and often reinforcing the teaching of these things, are people who have not necessarily been through such traumas.

Sometimes G-d does want to teach us things, but sometimes Satan plants an idea in somebody's mind and they carry out an evil act against another. The key here is to not get the 2 mixed up, and to allow people to come forward freely to talk about their pains, seasons of struggling, traumatic experiences, what they've survived, and what they are going through.

The other thing that really bugged me about this particular pastor's teaching, is that he is essentially cutting off a major form of intimacy and communication with our creator. When looking at the story of Job, Daniel, David, the disciples, Naomi, Ruth, Esther, and countless others, we see them questioning the circumstances and teachings in their lives. QUESTIONING DOES NOT NECESSARILY NEGATE FAITH!

We all wonder why things happen. We wonder why G-d allows certain things to take place and we question the meaning of our lives. When we are able to bring our questions about life and life events to the One who is overseeing all that happens, even in our deepest most intimate places, we are able to hope for answers.

We will not always get answers, and we aren't always supposed to. But sometimes, G-d gives us an answer, an explanation, or He allows us to see how His hand is playing a part in our life. For me, I am beginning to see how my ability to empathize with others has grown exponentially because of what I've experienced. I am learning that what I say matters and the patterns I see in my life have value to others that are on journeys to healing, as I still am. I am learning how to better walk beside people near me in their lives and struggles and to offer encouragement and friendly "counseling" (more of a listening ear). My heart has softened to the pain of others. I have moved from a place of sympathy to a place of empathy to a place of wanting to ease other's burdens, if by merely being a presence while they walk a very difficult path.

Personally, I still wrestle with G-d and ask Him why I was allowed to be abused, assaulted, raped, and cast aside. I ask Him why I was taught about life in the ways that I was, as a child. I question why I was allowed to be so traumatized, when I simply lived life according to the rules I was taught in church and what I believed He had taught me thus far. Why He didn't intervene in any of the countless times I was taken advantage of, held down, coerced, manipulated, and otherwise hurt. I also inquire as to why He didn't allow these guys to be persecuted when I went to the police. Why the judge decided exfiance wasn't dangerous enough to get a restraining order against to keep me safer and on the spectrum of being able to have police backup should he breech my boundaries (which he has many times since).

I don't think I will ever get answers for these things. However, I have not been punished for asking them. G-d allowed me to wrestle with Him, to yell and fight and punch and get it all out. Then He held me in His arms and allowed me to have peace. He gave me peace. He brought me close to His heart. After all of my fighting was through, even my fighting against Him, He drew near to me. In this place, I was given peace for the first time in years. It's a process though, I couldn't have been given peace without having been able to fight and yell and scream and wrestle with Him. It wouldn't have been the same, I wouldn't have the same understanding.


He doesn't cause bad things to happen to us and He doesn't require that we always follow with blind faith without asking questions. Just look to the Bible. Sometimes people were asked to follow "strange" instructions while being given no answers, but they asked questions. They didn't lose faith, but we are questioning in nature, that's how G-d created us. So, I think He can handle the inquiries we make of Him.

Sharing My Story

This is not the post where I will share my story. However, I am recounting to you, how I did share it... yesterday.

Every Thursday, I go to bible study at a local church. This is not the church I regularly attend, but it is one I have tried a couple times through college, and so I am not afraid to go, I'm just not a regular. A few months ago, I decided I wanted to start going to a bible study, and I searched many churches in town. This particular church was going to be starting a fresh "semester" in a few weeks and I knew that many of the ladies I work with went there. So, I started asking around and one lady from work told me she had been thinking about going to this study. We agreed to start together and it's been wonderful! She and I are not in the same small group within the bible study, and that is okay. It's nice just knowing that she is there and to be able to see her every once in a while.

Last week, during bible study, I felt that G-d was speaking to me that I would be sharing my story this week. Yes, I scoffed at Him a little bit, but I also told Him that if He would lead me and give me the words, I would go. If you have read a few posts ago, I felt as though G-d has been telling me to get ready to begin sharing it. I, of course, met Him with questions and slight trepidation that He won't just tell me when, where, how, who, or what. Alas, that is not how He often operates with me.

This week, I was sitting through the video and, again, clear as day I heard Him tell me I was going to share "today" (that was yesterday). The video ended, we broke into our small groups, and we shared prayer requests and prayed, as usual. When we got to talking about this week's study, one lady (who I have so appreciated because she shared her story with us) began to talk about this week's study and what it has meant to her. Then He told me to share. It was related to what she was talking about, so I branched off of that. I began talking, my lip started to quiver, tears filled my eyes, but I kept talking. As I continued, I began to cry, which I have a very difficult time doing in front of others, but I continued on. When I finished (I only talked for less than 5 minutes), I was all but sobbing and the leader of the group and the lady that I have come to so appreciate for her story, they both came up and hugged me. Of course, this lead to more crying, the kind where you can't breathe anymore.

When I came to and got better use of my vision, I noticed many of the women were crying right along with me. They were hurting for the pain I've been experiencing for so long. They were hurting for a young lady, with so much life before her, having been hurt at a fairly young age. They encouraged me, thanked me for sharing, and praised the L-rd that when they came together and asked for healing for me several week prior, that He answered the prayers so immediately and I was now able to share with them the results. I was able to share with them my vision of the White Robe and the verse when G-d told Peter to kill and eat. Peter resisted, because these animals were un-kosher and "unclean". 3 times G-d told him to eat, and 3 times Peter resisted. Then, G-d told Peter to "not call unclean, that which I have called clean." This scene also came to my mind, with the White Robe vision, and I finally accepted that I have been made clean. That I have been forgiven. That I am untarnished, not wasted, and more precious than anyone could ever understand, to the One who made me and continues to carry me.

After telling my story (in very little detail, mostly just that I have been abused and have C-PTSD), these women I have come to care for so deeply (at an arms length, of course) did not shun me, forsake me, nor break my heart with faces that showed their broken hearts. Instead, I saw in them a sense of understanding in my bible study responses and prayer requests, as well as an appreciation for how far I have come in such a short time. They watched me go from reserved, to angry, to struggling internally, to excited at sudden healing, to now. Now, I am in a place of battle, but much less wearisome. I am in a place where I am hearing G-d speak so clearly to me, that I need to share and help other girls, ladies, women, people, through the turbulence of surviving sexual assault and abuse. I don't know how, who, where, when, or what, but I know that I have been called clearly.

This is the first time, since I was in middle school and committed myself to G-d, that I have been able to hear Him this clearly. I don't want this to stop. I feel like I have had ear plugs in for year and I could hear Him faintly, but now I've taken them out and can hear Him so much better. Praise the L-rd.

'Til next time, friends.

"Why did you stay?"

This is a question I've been asked many, many times when people hear even a smidge of my stories.

With exboyfriend, the police, detective, and my first counselor asked why I stayed the weekend after his first assault.

With exfiance, I've been much more secretive about my time with him, because I've already lost so many people because of him. I've learned to be alone and find contentment in being single, independent, and doing things solely by myself.

Last week, my counselor noted that I've been dissociated for the past few weeks, even in counseling. So, she asked me to talk about exfiance. My mind went blank (dissociation). I asked her what I should talk about and she began asking me basic questions. How did we meet? What was he like? How did it all start? Why did I let him hurt me so many times? Why did I not leave after his first assault like I did with exboyfriend? etc. etc. etc.

I was overcome with anger at being challenged, especially by someone who I had come to know synonymously with comfort and support. Tears were freely flowing at this point, though I had gotten through most of the questions with not an ounce of emotion while recalling our history and how it all started. However, the tears were spilling out like a fire hydrant when we got to the point of asking me why I stayed and let him to continue hurting me. In full defensiveness, I told her what I figured she already knew, "it's not that easy to just walk away, he wouldn't let me go".

It's true. Thus the restraining order attempt. He monopolized all my time from day 1, called and texted constantly, built me up for a few weeks, maybe a couple months, then he started the cycle of breaking me down and guilting me into staying. He brainwashed me, manipulated me to the umpteenth degree, tried to convince me I was nothing (and succeeded, for a little while). When I tried to leave, he told me he would go drive his truck into a tree because he couldn't imagine life without me. He played on all of my past traumas, to fully cement in my head that I was stuck.

Stuck with him. Stuck in an engagement, and eventual marriage, that was all a sham and started as pacification after the first assault. Stuck in abuse, convinced that that was simply my lot in life.

With this, I was introduced to the idea that I have no friends through this abuse because I was a terrible friend in the midst of it. For the 2 friends I trusted, I unloaded far too much information because I had nobody else to talk to. Then, when they stopped talking to me, it made no sense to me. But, after putting two and two together, I realized that it had been a pattern leading up to college that people simply came into my life for a time and promptly left. So, I thought nothing of it when this happened again amidst the trauma. I decided, purposely, to learn how to live without friends. Learn how to be alone. To go out and do fun things, alone. To finish nursing school, alone. I decided to stop getting hurt.

Unfortunately, this left me alone with exfiance.





The way my brain works is truly troubling. It shuts down and I can't communicate. You can ask me questions and if the answers cannot be a simple "yes" or "no", then it will be "I don't know". In truth I do know, but I need time to process. Time to write it out. Time to work my way through the dissociation to a point of being able to communicate and think again.

I went home and cried. Uncontrollable sobbing until I fell asleep early in the afternoon. I woke up a few hours later, my mind reeling. Rinse and repeat all week. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out why I'm such a terrible friend. Why I am such a target. What did I do that I deserve such terrible treatment? What did I do that I was being punished with mountains of abuse? Is my life a manifestation of punishment for a family sin? Maybe generations of family sins? What was so bad about me and so fundamentally wrong with who I am that relationships end in hurt every time? Am I really so unloveable that nobody wants me at all? No dating relationships no friendships?

I began to think back on my life. Did I not follow the rules? Did I not forgive 70 x 7 times and then continue to forgive after that? Did I not turn my cheek, try to forget wrongdoings against me, and attempt to continue on? Did I not love those who hurt me and try to show them G-d's love, just as we continually do things that are a slap in His face and He continues to take us back? Did I not strive to be a friend to those who had nobody, usually until they were accepted by the masses to simply leave me on the sidelines? Of course I saw the patterns, but everything in my past showed me I was just living the church girl life. I was doing all that I had been taught to do. Where did I go wrong?

All around me, I saw relationships falter, divorces run rampant, and those that weren't divorced were usually the ones stuck in relationships that made my relationship with exfiance look like a honeymoon. Yet, these women (primarily, and a couple of guys) found ways to be happy in the suffering. They learned to pacify the people they were with, and found ways out of the house to be able to have friends and fun with their kids without the terrible spouse.

I've noticed the patterns of families for years. Some families are large with lots of people always in your space. They love having tons of family members, cousins, aunt, uncles, etc that are all "close" with them and keeping up on their life happenings. Some families seem to have many kind people that have many terrible people that marry into the family. Others have families where nobody sees each other and the separate members of the family find pseudo families to belong to. There are other patterns, of course, but too many to rehash in this post.

Well, I figured that the pattern of nice people having terrible people marry into the family was my lot in life. With the exception of my uncle who is the spitting image of my terrible grandmother [who married into my grandfather's wonderful family]. That @$$h*!3 married my aunt and she is amazing and I love her and we claimed her in the divorce while completely ignoring my biological uncle for decades.

So, how was I supposed to know that my relationship with exfiance was not what it was supposed to be? All of my support systems left me high and dry. All of the relationships in my life pointed to nothing but finding happiness in the midst of a shitty relationship. Church taught me to forgive and turn the other cheek and try to love everyone and work to be Jesus to the nations. How was I supposed to know that following all of the fucking rules would lead to nothing but PTSD, deep depression, a loathing for my body and brain that is unparalleled to anything I have ever understood, and aloneness for the last 3 years of my life?

I read marriage/relationship books about how to be a better girlfriend and figure out how to have a happy relationship. I asked those that I could, studied blogs and everything I could find about relationships. I put in my hours trying to figure out why the only relationships I found myself in were ones that caused me mass amounts of pain. I even took a sexual assault nursing course (for all of 3 weeks until the flashbacks got too intense and I became thoroughly traumatized from the stories we had to read). I tried to figure out how to fix it, then I had to figure out how to leave, ALL BY MYSELF. I had to figure out red flags and final straws and escape plans, ALL BY MYSELF. I had to figure out how to survive so many terrible things ALL BY MYSELF.

That's why I couldn't leave. That's why I stayed for so long. I was in the Word, I was praying, I was going to church, I was reaching out for help and being met with silence at every turn. That's why I stayed. I was fighting to breathe and struggling to break free, and so no, I couldn't just walk out after the first assault. It took all I had to not find a way to die. I was even praying that G-d would just take me, any way He wanted, because I didn't even have the strength to do it myself. I was even helping Him by suggesting plans of how to take me!



Why did I stay? Because I couldn't leave.

Bain of My Existence

I know it's stupid, but I despise weddings. Always have. I'll attend all of the funerals I'm invited to, or hear about, but weddings get automatic excuses and declines from me. I hate weddings.

With that said, Beauty from nursing school got engaged right before our pinning ceremony. It took them a long time, but her wedding was finally planned for the end of October (2017) and I just so happened to get invited... I straight up told her I probably wouldn't go. I have told her that since I've known her, so it's not like it was even a surprise. Still, she kept begging me to go.

I still regret going.

All through the ceremony I was holding back tears. The tears weren't because the wedding was beautiful, or because the bride and a billion other people were crying, or because of allergies. I was holding back tears thinking of my certainty that a wedding will not happen for me.

There is such a certainty and gravity to this understanding in my heart, I've had it since I was a little girl. I did not go to the father daughter dances. My dad and I spent time at his shop, where I kept busy with "girlier" things and dad taught Brother how to fix cars/trucks/everything under the sun.

Dad has social anxiety and probably a few other hinderances, which I don't blame him for, but they lead to an "un-normal" life for me. While my dad has always lived with my family, there is not much participation on his part. He didn't go to church, except maybe 3-5 times my whole childhood. We never expected to go to a restaurant for birthdays or special occasions because they made dad nervous and so the whole family would be stressed and not have fun. We stopped asking for participation from him, and didn't invite people over to the house, because we didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

So, from the time I was very young, maybe kindergarden or earlier, I've known that we just don't ask dad to do things that involve lots of people. Understanding that weddings involve lots of spotlight, lots of people, and a father-daughter dance, obviously this is not something that sounds plausible in my future...

As I sat in my counselor's office, sobbing uncontrollably (for other reasons that I'll explain later), I explained why I don't believe I will/can get married. I've blamed it on being undesirable, blemished from trauma, making new mistakes (again, I'll get to this), and a myriad of other reasons I've collected over the years. And I explained the wedding thing. I sat there and told her between, "I know it's stupid, and it's probably just jealousy, but I hate weddings."

I didn't look up, but I could feel the gentleness in her voice. "I don't hear jealousy in any of this. What I hear is a lot of hurt."

Now, this whole conversation started because she asked how the wedding went. This explaination of me keeping my eyes from leaking during the service previewed the terrible news that Best Friend and I went too far that night after the reception.

He and his roommate were invited because Beauty was Best Friend's neighbor in the dorms freshman year of college, and he's actually how I ended up meeting Beauty. We've all stayed in touch over the years, and Beauty just wants to have fun, so she invited tons of people to the wedding reception.

Now, I did drink that night, but not enough to black out. I was with it and remained free from stumbles or being too drunk. I couldn't have driven home, but if I had been given water and an hour, I could have driven home no problem.

"Why, then, did I wake up and not be able to remember anything?" I asked my counselor, in much different words.

After rehashing some of the events, I realized that Best Friend had started kissing me once I was back to his house after the reception. Many problems with that statement... 1) his roommate was supposed to drop me off at my house, but Best Friend had talked him into taking me back to their place because BF wanted to see if I would kiss him (after me telling him no ALL FUCKING NIGHT.) 2) I was not privy to this decision and never consulted to see what I wanted to do.

So, back at BF's house, I laid on the couch, nearly falling asleep. At some point, he came over and started to kiss me. About 2-3 weeks ago, I put an end to us kissing. I told him I was not ready for a relationship and that I needed us to go back to just being friends. Obviously that worked really fucking well because he definitely got the message loud and clear after me telling him this about 29474957 over the course of our "friendship". (That was all solid sarcasm.) I shouldn't have had to tell him that many times and he never should have tried to kiss me after me telling him no so many times in one night and over the past several weeks/years. Maybe I need to work on being meaner.

So, we ended up kissing, and he picked me up from the couch and carried me to his bed. Now, he had done this before, I told him a few times that I don't lay in boy's beds and he knows my stories of abuse. He told me he understands, and yet it happened a couple times. Chalk it up to me being naive and believing people when I shouldn't. Man, I'm an idiot.

He kissed down my stomach, which he's done before because he thinks it's funny when I push his face away and yell at him for doing that. Except, this time he was drunk and ended up touching me where he shouldn't. It was at this point, the the rest of my memories are non-existent or 1-2 seconds long. I remember hyperventilating, shoving his hand away, and crying for about 20-30 minutes. He freaked out and went to the far edge of his bed as I laid in the fetal position sobbing. He asked what he could do and what happened and I couldn't talk. I just turned away and cried. He tried to hug me and I pushed away. Finally, after 20-30 minutes, I settled enough for him to ask me what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to go watch t.v. and sleep. We went back out to the couch and I laid down under the blanket. I don't remember much more of the night.

I do know, however, that in the morning, I knew that we had slept together. I don't know how it started, I don't think that he raped me, but my counselor says that I dissociated because of the first incident of him touching me. This whole story came out in the first 7 minutes of me sitting down in her office and she uncovered the story via questions answered by my 1-2 syllable answers or shaking/nodding my head. I have so much shame, and disgust, and despair over this stupid night.
She tells me it's not my fault because my body was just protecting me the only way it has learned how to over the course of my abuse.

Still, I can't help but wonder how I will ever explain this act of indiscretion to someone, if a guy ever decided that he wanted to date me seriously.  I had just gotten to the point where I could think about dating after 2 years of being free from exboyfriend and exfiance. After this, where it was kind of my choice, I don't know how I will recover and survive, let alone try to date and explain this to someone.

My counselor had me think about what I would tell someone else, if I were in the outside shoes and my friend were telling me their life story that was like mine. Of course I would tell that person that it wasn't their fault, that BF had taken them (me) to the police station to report the other 2 dip-shits and he should have known after the way I freaked out that I needed to not be touched. Still, I don't understand how this all happened.

I praise the L-rd for my counselor, because she spoke such healing and comfort into my life. But I still struggle with the knowledge and memories I have.

This wasn't supposed to be my life!

My counselor says that G-d was still with me through it all. But why couldn't He keep me with it enough to be able to stop it so that I didn't sin? Why wouldn't he prevent the whole mess from coming up? Why would He not just let me get dropped off at my house like I was supposed to so that I could go to sleep? Why was it that I have to be allowed to be in a position to have 1 case of trauma, let alone the whole shit-show that was my life in 2015? Then, on top of all of that, He allows this to happen because my brain automatically dissociated?!? Where was He in all of that mess? Was he standing there watching? Was He sad? Why didn't He step in? Why did He let me go through this? Why is this supposed to be stuff that I  have to struggle through? What did I do but try to follow His Word and be kind and gracious? I know I make mistakes, but why this?

I keep thinking that I'll wake up and realize the past few years, and all of these mistakes and memories are just a bad nightmare. But I keep waking up and I'm forced to survive another painful day. As soon as life starts to get tolerable again, another traumatic thing happens and I have to figure out how to try to survive past that. It's not fair. Not even a little fair.

I don't understand how some people go their whole lives and never experience trauma, and some people have shit dumped on them their whole lives. I don't understand it at all!!! How do I get off this shit-list?

Yesterday, I had another talk with Best Friend. Instead of gently suggesting that we take time so that I can have some space. I flat out told him that I need to not talk to him for weeks. He kept sending me relationship snapchats this past week, after that night. Even after a 3 hour drive where I spilled my heart out to him about how badly it hurt me and how much I hated that we slept together. He has apologized profusely for the night, but he hasn't gotten the gravity of the situation because sex is a big deal to him, but it's not a part of his faith and not a part of any abuse that he has sustained. People just don't get it. Sex is not fun for me. It's been nothing but trauma. There is a very real chance that it will never be a healthy part of my life because of the continued abuse that I have sustained. For him, it was something "special" to share with someone he "liked" or maybe thinks he "loved". For me, it was a huge set-back in my 2 year recovery and now another shameful part of my past I will have to explain.

I told BF that him sending the relationship crap "hurt my heart" and that I didn't want to see it. I told him that about 17 times. He would apologize, but continue to send another "cute" one that he found later. He just doesn't get it. If he got it, then we wouldn't be in this fucking situation to begin with because he would have fucking stopped when I freaked out and I probably wouldn't have freaked out because he wouldn't have touched me that way in the first damn place!

I wasn't angry at him until yesterday and today. At counseling, my counselor told me it was okay for me to be angry with him. At that point, I was still fully angry at only myself. Now I'm just pissed.

I was so pissed on Friday (Thursday was counseling), that I finally scheduled my appointment to go see the nurse practitioner. I'm scared that the tests will find something. I'm terrified. However, I'm so sick of being scared and not knowing. So, I'm having the results sealed in an envelope, and my counselor agreed that I could read them at my appointment with her.

Guys, please pray that my body if free of disease from the first 2 assholes, and also from Best Friend. I hate that I have to worry about this. I hate that I had to take yet another Plan B pill. I hate my life and the fact that I keep having to fucking survive another day, every day.

I'm so over it all. I just want to be done.

Mass Migration

Maybe it's just summer coming to a close and people are trying to move, in between school years and vacations. Maybe it's just because I perceive things that aren't actually there. Who knows? But it seems as though there is a mass migration of people to Home State. Everybody is snatching up all of the houses for rent in Home Town and College Town and I have no hope. I have been house hunting for over 2 months and cannot pin down a blessed place!!!

Best Friend has been going back and forth between wanting to live with me, and deciding that's a bad idea since I told him I might be moving back here. Once I finally started applying to jobs here, he suggested we go ahead and live together. Once I got the job, however, he told me he couldn't live with me because he didn't want to "fall in love with me". So I got frustrated with the fact that I had a housing situation partially set up, then he bailed.

I have been actively online and physically searching for a house since I got back to Home State. I set up my budget and got everything lined out to try to afford the inflated prices of this terrible town by myself.

Sunday night Best Friend texted me saying he decided he wanted to live with me after all. He told me to cancel all of the meetings I had to see other housing arrangements so that we could go see houses together. I told him I would not cancel those meetings because I had been working for months to secure any kind of a house visitation that didn't get rented before I even showed up the next day. He started searching for houses and it became apparent, really quickly, that we needed: opposite sides of town, different needs for our dogs, and had vastly different budgets. I kept poking holes in the houses he sent me, because they would not work. He kept sending me houses that I knew had already been rented because I had seen them weeks ago and called on them already. He didn't believe me, called them, and got angry when the house manager confirmed that those houses had already been rented. I don't know why he wouldn't believe me on these things, but he didn't. We looked for houses online for about 3 days, I called most of them because he was at work, and at the end of the 3 days I was so frustrated and upset that I finally called the whole thing off.

However, I had already cancelled one of my meetings to rent a room from a friend who bought a house last summer. I texted that friend and told him I was thinking of trying to find a place with a friend so as not to put him out. He told me it wouldn't be a bother, and he wished me well anyway. He and I have planned to hang out at some point this week, after my orientation days, so I'm sure he will ask about my housing situation then and I can bring it up again. I don't know how that will go though.

All I need is a room to rent so I can sleep!!! I won't hardly ever be there because I'm going to be working 6 days a week!!!

I've prayed and asked the L-rd for help, knowing that He doesn't make a major move until last minute. I don't appreciate the last minute move, but I've seen Him work enough miracles, and test my faith enough that I can suspect this may be what He's doing again. The struggle it is to be me with my faith being tested on a daily basis!!!

I'm glad I stayed true to my boundaries with Best Friend though.

Guys, I need a house for my dog and I!!! I need for everyone in the world to not be moving here and driving prices up while taking all of our jobs and houses!!! I need just a little peace in this whole whirlwind of a seemingly foolish choice. G-d wouldn't have made the move so easy, and allowed me to get 2 part-time jobs so easily without it being His will, would He? When I'm working against G-d there is normally impossible hurdles to overcome and many obstacles to let me know it is not His will. Getting here, being let out of my lease, quitting my job; all of those came easily. Obtaining 2 new jobs with kind managers that allow me to work both places happened easily too. Why can I not find a house? A simple place to sleep for my dog and I? Somewhere where I won't have to drive 2 hours in traffic to get to work and get home from work.

Folks, that's right, I am now driving 2 hours, IN TRAFFIC, to get to work and home from work. I can't be doing that when I begin the full-time floor orientation hours! I don't get enough sleep after a 12 hour shift as it is, no way I could manage working 6 twelve's and still manage to drive 4 hours every day in RUSH HOUR traffic!!!!!

What was I thinking to move back here? I'm such a fool. How is it that G-d is going to use this for His good? How is it that this is just a faith test and everything will work out soon. Will it work out soon?

I miss my friends. I miss my dog (who's staying at my mom's friend's house). I miss my babies and watching them grow up. I miss Small Town, and the small life I built there.

Just as I miss so many things, I don't miss many others; the workplace bullying, constant stress at work from coworkers and lack of management of our unit, the stress of having doctors yell at us constantly, worrying about being 8 hours away from my family all the time, Mema being upset with me all the time and going through her bipolar emotional waves, not being able to see my mom, frustrated with the lack of support and technology at work to help me take care of my babies. Some of these problems will be present wherever I go, but many of them are never as bad as they were in Small Town because Small Town people have never experienced anything other than nurses eating their young, emotional blowouts and yelling matches on the unit where people are expected to deal with it or literally move units, and various other unacceptable things that are not allowed in bigger town hospitals. I'm excited to see what it's like working in the hospitals I did my clinicals at, to see how patient care and employee relationships differ from the nonsense that took place in Small Town. I'm also interested to see how doctors treat the nurses, after being in constant fear of being yelled at by the doctors and practitioners in my first unit. this will all be very interesting, for sure.




Guys, if you happen to think of me during your times of prayer, maybe help me in petitioning G-d for a solid roommate situation or a good house for low rent. I'm really needing some help. Also, if you could maybe think to ask for me to move from Mom/Baby into L&D real quick too, that would be wonderful.

Bless you all and I hope y'all's summers are more relaxing and less chaotic than mine!

Doctor Searching

I've been thinking about finding a doctor lately. I feel like I should go in and get checked out and try to be a "good patient" that sees a doctor every 5-6 years... instead of my current method of thinking I'm dying of cancer, going in to get checked out once every 15 or so years, then finding out I'm completely fine. I mean it works, kinda, but that's not the example a nurse should set for her patients, right? At least they're babies and won't ask about the last time I went in for my sniffles or the weird lump on my hip.

Along with thinking about finding a doctor, probably an OB/GYN, comes the thought of how to tell them to be extra careful with me. I have read about it some, and it usually gets the point across by simply saying I have a past history of sexual trauma. Short and to the point. I was gonna say short and sweet, but let's be real, there's nothing sweet about it.

Now, I was contemplating all of this, while throwing the ball for my dog in my backyard, when I remembered a completely random memory: I remember being at a karaoke pub with the girls from my senior year OB and peds rotation, celebrating that we were all done with clinicals. Exfiance was there, and it was after I had already gone to the cops, I believe, but the detective hadn't issued a warrant for him yet, so he didn't know about what I was doing. At some point I had to follow my friends out to the parking lot to make sure they had a buddy to come back in, and he caught me alone. He kept calling my name and I just walked away. I walked away with all of the strength and pride a woman can muster after finally leaving her abuser. I walked away knowing in my heart, that I am fighting for justice with all the courage and strength I could muster. I walked away from him with confidence that I was no longer in his grasp and he now has plenty of stories recorded with his name plastered ALL over them so that if some other girl happens to come forward (and I pray it's no girl that ever meets him after me), then his ass will end up in prison for the rest of his days because of the atrocities he committed towards myself and the other girls.

For having been struggling with insecurities, the sadness of realizing I can't handle a relationship right now, and the thought of ending up alone (which I am more and more okay with as the days go by), this random little memory gave me such strength and hope. I was able to be near him, and his tentacles could no longer permeate my heart because I am already gone. Yes, the damage has been done, but I finally had enough of his shit. I finally got the window to escape, the resources to help me do so, and the time needed to separate myself from his grasp.

For those of you who keep going back to abusers, who keep getting sucked in to their lies and manipulation, or who have to stay for safety reasons or children, I get it. I understand the needing to stay for just a bit longer, or accepting the burden of going back because there isn't sufficient safety in leaving just yet. I get it, I understand, and my heart is heavy for you. I am terribly sorry that you are going through that. I pray that one day, you are able to find your window to escape, and that you run and don't ever look back. Sure, the legal system will drag you back and make you relive the memories. Anniversaries will pop up and bring you down. However, keep fighting and moving and running and working towards your freedom. I promise you deserve it. I pray that once you get to leave, that you never see your abuser again, unless required by the legal system and then only in the presence of the cops that are required to guard him/her and a whole bunch of witnesses. More so, I pray you find your freedom and then peace and confidence to be you.

Praying for you victims and survivors tonight.

Pure Rage

Let's start this post out nicely... I don't want any comments. I love you all, but no comments on this post. Mostly, I probably shouldn't be posting this but 1) I need to vent, 2) I'm trying to be straight with y'all about the struggles of life in case somebody out there in the virtual space of the world feels the same way, I don't want them thinking they are alone, and 3) there is too much rage, moving through my mind too quickly, for me to be able to hand-write the shit I'm feeling in a paper journal so that I can burn it later. Thus, my online outlet which you can choose to read, or not. Completely your choice. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF CURSE WORDS USED THROUGHOUT!!! Are they necessary? Not usually, but every once in awhile it is absolutely required. Right now, just know that this post will be long, and it could be about half the length if I didn't use so much profanity.

*****PROCEED WITH CAUTION*****ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK*****

No. I should be screaming these things from entirety of my being, into a canyon somewhere, where nobody can hear me, where I later collapse into a ball of a shell of a girl who's merely trying to hang on in a world where she doesn't belong living a life she does not understand at all.

Let's also preface this by saying that for the past several days, I'm in one of my moods. Yes, I have several moods that rotate throughout my days. None of them are really actually good. Some have "good" moments, I suppose, but I cannot find the good in my life. Present mood: contemplating the purpose of existence and how my life fits in with the plan of creation. I've been feeling dissociated and in a haze for the last week and a half also. I felt that necessary to point out as well.

Another nursing school buddy got married, I think today. Which, btw, is an odd day to have a legit wedding, seeing as it's Monday. But I digress and continue on with my ridiculously long post about things I've said in the past but am still mulling over in my obviously not healed mind...

Another girl got married. Now, I am happy for her, I truly am. She was a great girl, she's super smart, and she's been with this guy for a long time. She wasn't pressuring him to get married or engaged, and she seems relatively grounded.

I'm upset at the death of my future. I'm upset that my dreams of a future, and what I wanted for dating and marriage didn't even have a fucking shot at happening because two assholes decided that my wishes are not worth honoring. I'm fucking pissed that I didn't get a say. I'm enraged that nobody is fighting for me and that nothing will come of the pain I've been forced to survive. Can G-d handle it? Absolutely. Is He not the one who is in charge of revenge and setting wrongs right? He absolutely is! That's not what I'm saying. I don't even know what I'm saying any more but I know I'm upset.

The hand of tragedy and trauma is dealt randomly, I think. I don't know, maybe it's not. Maybe we are predestined to be forced to live through shitty circumstances that make us want to die on a daily basis, but somehow we're supposed to see how long we last before saying that we've had enough and throwing in the towel. Maybe, somehow, we're paying for the sins we've committed, or the sins that some person in our family tree committed a hundred years in the past. Maybe our suffering is somehow part of some atonement process that doesn't actually atone for anything because our suffering can pay for no sin or mistakes, but we still have to go through that. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! I do know, however, that even though I sin, I don't know what mistakes justify a person having to live through fucking trauma, rape, incest, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, gas lighting, constant ragging, the death of innocent people who have done nothing wrong, or any other trauma. Most trauma makes no fucking sense. Most of it has no noticeable purpose, no rhyme, no reason, nothing! Nothing! NOTHING!

Why, then, are we still having to live through such things. More importantly, why do some people go through life without ever experiencing trauma, or major life troubles, while others get clobbered around every FUCKING CORNER???!!!!!??? I'm not saying I'm necessarily one of them, but 3 people resulting in more traumas than I can count in a year and a half is a little fucking excessive to me.

I don't know, maybe that's just me. Eventually, I'll get over it. Except not. No. This shit never goes away until the day my heart stops and I get to be done. Perhaps then I will be free from these hellish memories and the pains that stab me in the chest. Hopefully, someday, I will be cut loose of the chains that bring me back to my pits of despair when I think of the beautiful wedding night I wanted, the dreams of being STD/STI free with no doubts in my mind about my status in that area, and I will put to rest my living nightmares that play over and over in my head, constantly. Did I have a choice of having a beautiful wedding night? No. Can I know for certain right now that I am presently STD/STI free? I have no fucking clue and I get panic attacks daily thinking that I may have one and not knowing. Yes, I can go get tested, but I'm still just not ready to drag myself to my death sentence just yet. Will I ever be free from these nightmare memories that run on loops in my brain? Not until the day I die or the day somebody develops an amnesia treatment that only lets you erase certain memories. Honestly, I'm not holding my breath for that treatment, but the end of my days is rapidly approaching, I'm sure.

You know what's hilarious to me, though? (Now, keep with me because that was solid fucking sarcasm). I have watched over 5 stand-up comedians over the past couple of hours that are on Netflix and all of them make jokes about rape and molestation within the first 5-10 minutes. 

Back to being serious, there is absolutely nothing funny about rape, molestation, incest, sexual assault, domestic abuse, beating your wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend/child/parent/etc. There is nothing funny about abuse, at all! There's nothing funny about PTSD, war, slavery, or any other things like that. What bugs me the most, is that people who have never fucking lived in my damn shoes is going to make jokes about my life being ruined because the act that cause my life to be ruined is apparently funny to them. It's hilarious to them! The whole crown erupts with laughter when these people make these jokes! It makes my blood boil, it sends me into immediate flashbacks every time, and then I look at how our society deals with such troubling topics and the lack of sentencing and punishments make sense. My life makes less and less sense, but it makes sense that the fucking statistics grows for the events of rape that occur each day because it's all just a joke. 

My suffering is a joke. It's something I have to keep hush hush, because it bums people out. Nobody wants to hear my woes. I'm just regretful of allowing the guys to enter my body, because I let them do it. I must have wanted them to do it. My response to that: NOBODY WANT TO BE FUCKING RAPED!!! NOBODY WANTS THEIR LIFE TO BE RUINED AT THE HANDS OF SOME ASSHOLE WITH A FUCKING PENIS BECAUSE THEY FEEL THEY HAVE A RIGHT TO ENTER MY BODY. NOBODY WANTS CONSTANT WORRIES ABOUT THEIR STD/STI STATUS WHEN THEY HAD WANTED TO REMAIN VIRGIN, OR EVEN IF THEY WERE WILLING TO HAVE SEX AT SOME POINT, THE ONE TIME THAT THEY SAY NO AND THE GUY DOES NOT RESPECT THAT, THERE IS TRAUMA. SOMETHING, IN THAT PICTURE, IS NOT RIGHT.

What's so hard to understand about that? Apparently, it about as difficult as rocket science to understand... for many people who have never experienced rape, sexual assault, abuse, or any of the other many listed things already mentioned, or one of the hundreds of things I never even mentioned because there is too much!!! There's too much.

What has rape cost me? It's cost me: friends, family, sanity, sleep, good dreams, peace, any hope of love, joy, gladness in my adult life, excitement for post-graduation happenings, hope of having children, and my future, among other things.

I'm angry that some people live such beautiful, wonderful, sweet, amazing lives while I'm stuck in this. I'm overwhelmed at the constant waves of shit washing over me. I hate that just when I start to feel like I'm doing better, I get bombarded again with my hellish reality. I hate that I don't feel worthy of a happy life, and I feel guilty even, for what has happened, even though I can rationalize the events as me not being at fault for the actions that took place.

While most girls my age are dreaming of their futures, I'm sitting here wondering what I have done to deserve such shit. I wonder why it is that I'm here, what purpose my life plays in the Grand Scheme of things. Mostly, I'm left feeling overwhelmed at the magnitude of evil rising up around me on every side. I am suffocated by the fears of what a health check would bring. My past haunts me and chases my happiness away. The simple joys of life are completely lost on me, and I'm simply treading water in the middle of the biggest, stormiest ocean in the universe. I find myself praying that 1) I am free of disease and health complications and 2) that my life ends soon and that somehow, somebody remembers me with fondness.

I've been thinking about all the people I've lost in my life. They didn't die, most of them haven't, but they've left me or I've left them for various reasons. If my former friends heard I died, or came across my obituary, would they say I got what I had coming? Would they be glad I was gone because they didn't like me? Would they be sad at how things ended? Would they mourn the loss or get over it quickly by saying "Oh, that's sad. Was it suicide?" Would they come to a funeral, if there was one, or would they visit my grave and visit/yell at me the way I do with Country Boy? Would they remember me for being sweet, kind, and dreaming of a bright future? Or will they recall my bipolar, my grouchiness, and the way in which I made them upset by enforcing boundaries and refusing to take their shit. Would they ask how I died, prying for if my death were self-inflicted? Or would they hope that suddenly, my troubles were gone and I no longer lived with the shame and pain and scars this life has given to me. What would my obituary say? Who would even read it? How could my family even invite anyone to my funeral? Nobody would come except family, and then friends supporting my family. I would have no friends there because there is nobody left.

Does my life even make a difference? For anyone? (All rhetorical questions, you don't need to comment.)?




So what is the point of my sufferings? What is the point of anyone's sufferings? I know I'm not the only in pain over the hand this life has dealt. Of the numerous times I was supposed to die over the course of my life, from the time I was conceived until now, why was I not allowed to just fucking die??? I could have died free of pain. I could have died pure. I could have died and not even experienced the fight of life. Instead, I was kept alive. I keep having to be kept alive. I keep having to fight another day and suffer through.

I know the Good L-rd provides. He provides for my needs, my happiness, my joy, and everything good in this universe and beyond. He gives every good things. I know He gets me through the trauma, He gets me through the night, and He keeps me alive for another day. What I don't know, and what I don't understand, is why the hell I cannot just go ahead and cease breathing so I can be put out of my misery? Why can my heart not just take a permanent break and allow me to slip away? What is the purpose of allowing me to continue to suffer with the after-math of the consequences of sin. Not even just my sin! I'm suffering from the consequences of other people's sins too!!! Shit like this happens every day. Not so good people suffer no issues, while others suffer for personal sins as well as for the sins of the not so good people.



I keep feeling compelled to start working on forgiveness so I can try to move on. I think it's from the L-rd. I want to be ready to do that. I want to be ready to shoulder the pain and move on, but right now, the baggage is too heavy to be able to move away from anger and head towards full forgiveness. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

I deal with being scared of what problems I have with health and my mental well-being on a daily basis. I fear the future because I see little chance of my story ending well any time soon. I know I'm not supposed to worry about the future, because what will I change by worrying about the future? Nothing. However, a happy, good future will take a billion and five miracles and I feel that's just too excessive for one person to be given in a lifetime. It doesn't matter what I feel I deserve or don't, it's ultimately up to G-d. I have no say. I'm just saying that statistically, the odds are not in my favor and I long for release from my pains and struggles bestowed upon me in this life.

I'm tired. I'm going to bed.

Best Buddy

Do any of y'all recall hearing about my Best Friend? I met him freshman year of college and we've been through quite a bit.

At the beginning of this blog, I used to write about how I thought he had a crush on me and we would hang out a lot. Fast forward about a year to sophomore year, and he and I "tried" dating. It lasted three weeks before I broke it off. We didn't talk much for awhile, but he contacted me again sometime between the end of Junior year and the beginning of Senior year. Weird thing about certain friendships, you can pick up right where you left off, as if nothing ever changed.

I shared with him what exboyfriend and exfiance did to me and he was crushed. It was the first time I've seen him get misty and the normal smile was not in his eyes. Regardless, he has stuck with me through my rants and raves, my days of self pity, and various legal situations where my counselor told me I needed a friend. Best Friend was that friend. He even offered to buy me a milk shake after a 5 hour wait at the police station with me. He just sat in the lobby, by himself, as I talked with an officer in the back. He didn't complain or seem irritated in the least. At the end, he gave me a hug, told me he was soooo proud of me, and listened as I rehashed the amazing work the police officer did to help me.

It doesn't matter what parts of the story I tell him or refuse to share with him, he is nothing but kind, supportive, and so very sweet. He knows when to be quiet and listen. He knows when to shut me off because I'm going down a bad thought process road. He knows when to give me time to process, or when I need to be around somebody. He asks before he hugs me. Most of all, he is working to rebuild my sense of self.

We were texting the other night, as we often times do, when he started asking questions. Questions about our short relationship (thought he has a girlfriend right now, he says he was just curious), some about what happened with the other guys, and some light-hearted questions to break up the seriousness of the conversation.

At one point, he asked, "Why, if you are so stubborn, did you not just leave these guys when you say you wanted to?" This question, in all honesty, made me get a bit defensive. I sent about 9 text pages about how I know I seem weak, staying with a guy even though I tried to break up over 4 times with him. I know it makes no sense to stay with someone who continually hurt me so badly. I know that the relationships are terrible and it makes no sense that I would have two boyfriends abuse me in terrible ways when I could have been with someone sweet. It makes absolutely no sense, even to me. However, I continued and told him that I was fighting. All those times he forced himself on me, I was fighting. All those times that I would break up with him, he would promise to be nicer and better, then I would take him back and he would be even worse because I "broke his heart," I was fighting.

I was fighting to stay alive. I was fighting to stay sane. I was fighting to make sense to myself and to do the best I could in the terrible prison I was in.

I don't know if he was shocked or sorry for asking that question in such a way, or maybe he knew that I was absolutely not bullshitting him at that point, but he replied saying: "I completely believe you. Of 4 women in my life that I actually believe 100%, you are one of them. I didn't mean to make it seem like you were foolish for not leaving. I can't imagine what it was like to be in your shoes. I'm so happy you stayed strong and came back into my life, it's such a blessing. I know you are so much stronger now. I want to thank you for fighting through, just in case no one else has thanked you for that. I can't imagine what it would have been like if anything worse (I know it can't get much worse, so you know what worse is [murder or suicide]) had happened to you."

At that point I cried. I cried. I ugly cried. I'm crying right now just reading it again.

He thanked me for surviving. He thanked me for sticking around and not letting life kill me, not letting these assholes cause me enough pain that I end my own life. Not letting exfiance hurt me enough to kill me.

He thanked me for fighting.



Friends, if you have survived abusive relationships, sexual assault, rape, depression, suicide attempts, self-harm, traumas, or any other life-threatening struggles, thank you for fighting. It a struggle, day in and day out, but you are here. Know that, even your friends and family who don't know what you've been through, are grateful that you are still alive and fighting. They may have no clue you're even struggling, but someone somewhere (me included) is glad you're sticking around.

Thank you for still being here.

Overwhelmed, but Not Stressed

This weekend was an odd one. It's the one actual weekend where I can point to on a calendar and show people that my family fell apart. I went back home to help my parents move, this last weekend. They've been talking about separating for years, but they never actually go through with it because they somehow find a need for each other, usually financially.

Well, this time, it actually happened. Mom bought an RV a couple months back and Dad told her he refused to live in it. Long story short, the landlord for their house decided she wanted to now sell the house instead of renting it out anymore, so she gave them 30 days notice. Dad found an apartment and Mom found a place to park her RV.

At first, when I was told about 6 months ago that they were talking about splitting up, I was relieved. I know that this relationship has been hard on both of them, and they only really stayed together for us kids (my brother and I) but that's not fair. As the date approached, I started getting more stressed. Then the anticipation led to fear and all of a sudden I felt like my whole family was going every-which-way and that I would be all alone, in a big ol' world, to fend for myself. *Flip BedpanAlley's panic attack switch...*

It was rough going for me for awhile. After talking with Counselor about it, I ended up realizing that my parent's relationship wasn't the only thing that I was losing. I felt I was losing touch with family, I was losing my home, I am coming to the end of school, I'm losing "friends", I'm moving to another state in a month or two, I'm having to start a new job, and I am on the brink of a complete life turnover. That's intense. I don't know if you've gone through things like this, but man alive is it hard. Plus, I'm "graduating" from counseling, which has been one of only a couple steady relationships that I've ever had in my life. So, lots of bitter-sweet things happening.

Well, since my parents have been living apart for the past 2-3 days, they both call me almost every day to check on me. Granted, that's because I'm sick. However, they both sound happier and lighter. Sure, I'm certain they might be sad, but I think they figured out their feelings awhile ago and dealt with those while still living with each other. Granted, they are only living separately. My Dad went over and helped my Mom hook up her RV at the little park place. Dad is still going to go back to help finish setting her up. Mom is still going to be nice to Dad and probably continue to give him haircuts. The only thing that is different is that they don't live under the same roof or pay bills together anymore. It's super weird, but hey, if it works for them it works for me. They are talking nicer to and about each other and they're keeping nice because they like each other as friends, but can't handle staying together all the time without kid buffers. That's a normal developmental stage, according to some psychologist that I was supposed to learn about in my Pediatric Nursing Class... that I don't pay attention to... because I'm coloring in the back...

So, whatever. It only made me cry a couple times when thinking about it. However, once I think about it even more and look at the good in the situation, it's much easier to see that this is just something that needed to happen and that it was actually a good thing.



People keep snapping at me. Maybe I'm just that irritating or maybe everyone's just stressed. It could be a combination. Honestly, everyone can be irritating if someone is already stressed. The thing about snapping at me is that you can't simply slap a "sorry" on it and make the whole thing better. I shut down when someone yells at me, in any capacity. It's something I've always done and I am working my hardest to get past it, but it may be one of those roadblocks that I never fully get over.

For those of you who love someone or know someone who has been a victim of sexual assault, an abusive (in any sense of the term) relationship, or comes from a tough childhood background, please be extra cognizant of how you treat them. Some of us in this world have been given a lot of people who push us into the ground. In order to survive, our fight or flight has been molded into more of a shelter in place and become as small as possible. Don't mistake this as weakness, understand that this was our survival tool that kept us from more trouble than we had already experienced. We can still take "criticism" and you can still fully express yourself to us, but be gentle. Remember to think about what you actually need to and intend to say, and say it calmly. Make sure not to make personal attacks, but communicate clearly and logically. We need time to process, in many cases, before we can be able to respond. Do not demand an answer right away, because we may not have one for you yet. If you open up the talk as more of a conversation where we can be heard too, things will go smoother. Then, just know that we may be more reserved and quiet for a few days or a few weeks. Be patient with us. Many of us have learned that trying to have our voice heard about issues only causes more problems for us so we have a tendency to avoid conflict and be slow to warm up. Pick your battles. If it is something that is not a huge deal and you can handle it for awhile longer, please do so. Even better, learn to drop it. If it is something that needs to be addressed, address one or two things at a time and don't bombard us with a huge list of things that we do wrong. We'll see that as us being a failure and that you don't like/love us anymore. Trust me, we know what pisses everyone off about us and we do our best to not do those things. Some things are unavoidable and we are flight risks. It doesn't take much to set me off and shut me down for weeks. Something as little as a 3 second snap at me can cause huge problems for weeks that I have to work through.

So please, just be cognizant that some of us have a hard time with communication and with our thinking process. It's not that we're dumb or incapable of discussing things with you, sometimes we just need more time than people who have learned how to be able to discuss or fight for themselves. We haven't necessarily gotten the opportunities to learn how to do that.

I'm Still Here

Hey guys,

I know I've been radio silent for awhile. It's been a crazy couple of weeks. I don't know where I left off and I don't know how many posts I'll write today, but there's a lot to tell y'all about.

1) I tried to get restraining order on exfiance. Judge denied it because there was no "imminent" threat that she had proof of. I know she can't predict what he'll do, but if I report him he's going to go crazy!

2) Jersey confronted me in the hall during a class break this last week. She yelled at me for probably 10 minutes. She would ask me a question and then start talking over me a few words into my reply. By the end of the conversation, I was just saying "okay" when she would accuse me of something. This made her more angry. But at the beginning I had told her I think we should talk about everything over coffee instead of in the hall. She said that would be good but continued to yell and berate me for several minutes. There's no use in trying to speak because she just gets mad and won't listen to me. So, we're going to get coffee. We were supposed to get coffee this Friday, but I was in court trying to get the damn restraining order ALL day.

I've decided I am going to "break up" with her. I am going to tell her she is toxic and that the relationship we have is not healthy. She's going to flip, start crying, and begin yelling at me. She will then tell everyone in our class. I don't even care. My friends always come back to me after she tells them something and I tell them my side. Beauty is sick of her shit, but refuses to tell Jersey off. Not my problem. If Beauty wants to be Jersey's buddy, great. Jersey could use a buddy because she has no one else in the class. Why? Because she treats everyone like shit.

And these are the types of nursing students about to be let run free in the hospitals all across the country... We have several "Jersey's" in our class. I have witnessed them be rude and talk down to patients regularly. If I had any number of these types of student nurses or real nurses, I'd fire them without a second thought in my brain. Yes, that's terrible, but they don't treat people well! I'm over-empathetic and tend to believe all sob stories patients tell me. I'm starting to know when they are lying or being dramatic, but I'm getting better at setting boundaries, being able to have other staff members sit and talk with them, and also be able to let them know I can only do so much because I have other things that are more pressing than answering their 50 million requests.

3) Roomie put me on a Messianic dating site and also on Tinder. She said it would help with my self-esteem. 25-30 guys messaged me saying I was cute, then they would try to talk with me. It's great having that many guys that I think are cute also think I'm cute. It was exhausting to talk to so many and keep everyone's story straight. I shut it off after a couple days.

I only gave my number out to two guys. One guy was particularly kind and we seemed to get along on most subjects and issues that I've had with other guys in the past (both exes). Last night he asked me on a date. I said I would go if I could bring Roomie and her boyfriend along. He flipped out! He yelled at me for several text messages. I told him it wasn't to make him feel bad, it was just for safety since I'd never met him before. That made him even more angry! He told me I'm the type of girl that has caused guys to not want to be nice to girls anymore. I'm the reason chivalry is dea. and I'm the reason he doesn't want to try to be nice to girls anymore. Well fucker, you've been showing me red flags to remind me of exfiance all along. Unfortunately for you, your guilt trip methods and abusive ways will not work on me. Don't mess with me buddy. So, unfortunately for me, my radar was right. He was telling me everything I wanted to hear but his true colors showed awfully fast.

I'm just excited I stood up for myself and stayed my ground! He is blocked on my phone. He ended up texting me because I blocked him off of Facebook and text at the same time, but he yelled at me for taking him off Facebook. Hahaha, I think it may have actually been exfiance because the Tinder guy knew an awful lot about exfiance and I didn't start that conversation... He knew one of EF's (exfiance) exgirlfriends, talked similarly about Mormonism and life, had larger than life stories, and knew a lot about EF's past jobs and where he lives. If it was him, then wow. If it wasn't him then oh my gosh! So many crazies find me! I think they have a club...

4) Roomie's birthday was a couple days ago. We ended up going out dancing. Exfiance was there! I saw him as soon as I came in the door. My friends say he stared at me the whole night. I don't care, I had a grand ole time! I danced with all the girls and guys in my friend group while he stood on the sidelines and looked more and more angry. He danced with one girl and I wanted to go tell her that he is bad news, but maybe if I get legal things started, she'll be spared.

Hopefully she is smarter than I am and she doesn't get caught in his web of lies and abuse. I'll pray for her but I can't do much else.

5) My mom came down last night and we went to dinner. We got to talk about counseling and all of our life's happenings. So much to talk about with that! We ended up going to Target and started picking things out for my graduation trip! Oh my gosh, I'm so excited!!!

I'll fill in more for some of these events, but I'm working on a bottle of wine. Yes, it's 2:30 ish on a Saturday afternoon. No, I don't normally drink wine. It'll be okay guys, I'm just trying to relax. This week has been absolutely awful and I just need to escape for a little bit.

Counseling Homework: Journal

*****Fowl language present in this post. Proceed with caution***** 

My homework for this week is to journal each night before bed. Last night's theme: anger. Anger at "friends," anger that exfiance tried to contact me just once I start getting free from his evil grasp on my life, and angry that this is my life.

I'm angry. I'm sad. Mostly, I'm numb between the overwhelming rage at seemingly everything in my life and the bouts of sadness that pepper each day.

So, my homework is to journal. I didn't even tell my counselor about my anger issues because one hour is simply not enough time to be able to process everything I need to process. It barely even scratches the surface because I have way too much noise in my head.

I guess we're going to start working on my self-esteem. I shared my needs and wants list with her, and I suppose the common thread through the need list was basic survival stuff. My wants seem to need a foundation of self-esteem before anything else can happen, I guess. So, that is a next step.


I talked with counselor about reporting the guys. When it comes to this, I get very confused. When I told her I didn't want to report them, we discussed what happens if I don't report them: they don't realize they've done wrong or they knew they did wrong and they continue to believe they can get away with it, they could do this to other girls, etc, etc, etc.

So, I did some soul searching and finally find it in my conscience the desire to report these assholes and hope, best case scenario, that they go to prison or get some kind of legal punishment and record for these wrongs. When I mentioned my desire to report them, I let her know I had been reading about the process and other victim's stories online about the reporting process. Now I feel deflated because I don't think I'm strong enough to go through with the re-victimization that the reporting process can cause.

She, having worked with these cases many times before, let me in on what to expect and the prognosis is not good. With the first one, at least I went and got a SANE exam. After the second guy, I wanted to go get an exam so badly, but he talked me into staying with him and he questioned me if I was going to go get one. He has questioned me about getting a SANE exam several times since then and he uses guilt trips and fear to keep me from ever getting them. Between that and the costs associated with them if you aren't going to report (and I wasn't ready to report them at the time so no compensation would have been given), I had no ability to get the exam done. At least 10-12 of the 14 times he claims we "had sex" could have been used for a SANE exam, but his clutch on me was so intense that he even made me feel guilty for hurting his feelings when I went and got the Plan B pill just to cover my tail that way. He said it was terrible for me to be buying that pill because it meant I didn't believe or trust him. No shit Fucker, I don't believe that you "pull out" and that that is an efficient means of pregnancy prevention because you told me you wanted to get me pregnant!!! SEVERAL FUCKING TIMES!!!

I actually think he was mad at me taking the EC (emergency contraception) because it meant he was not in control of me becoming pregnant. He thought he had control of my mind, my emotions, and my body, but I wouldn't give him total control of "us" (essentially him via my uterus) bringing another life into this world as a result of continued abuse. This thought is a brand new epiphany I got while writing this. Ugh, the weight of what he's done gets heavier. As it gets heavier, the more I realize that everything that could be used as proof, he said over the phone or in person and he can refute all of these points. I have no texts or way to prove that he did this, said this, told me this, yelled at me for hours upon hours, and manipulated me in order to try to make me believe all of these things were my idea and not him manipulating me.

He had to have been planning for the eventuality that this would go to court and he wanted no proof that could be used against him. I think he plans this and has a specific method of action so that he can do this over and over again. That has to be what is going on here because he took measures to make sure that only small talk was done over text but yelling, fights, and difficult subjects where I was trying to stand up for myself as he bulldozed me was all done over the phone or in person. He was planning for no evidence so that he could talk his way out of another felony like he's done for all of his other fucking charges. Granted, these are just speculations, but I've racked my brain and this is just now coming to me.

The idea that he planned this and made sure there was no evidence makes so much sense! He's told me tons of stories where he has the "evidence" of a girl saying "yes" to sex with him but when she wakes up in the morning and calls the cops saying he raped her, then he shows the cop a video of her saying "yes" and they tell her that she is just being dramatic! Nobody knows if she was able to consent and was in a sober state-of-mind, and as far as I know the cop doesn't ask her about that. The only thing he ever told me is that about a dozen girls have told him they raped them, and he comes back with a video of her saying it's "okay" if they have sex.

One day we were talking about the day I woke up naked next to him in that shitty motel, not remembering anything that had happened because he had brought me so much alcohol that I blacked out, he told me he should have gotten me on video consenting. He also told me a few days after that that he felt like he had raped me but later denied ever saying this. Then he said that saying he "felt like he raped me" was a joke that he played because that was the day he picked that 4 hour long fight as he drove me to the proposal in the cabin.

Puzzle pieces are starting to fit together and the memories are coming back.

This is going to be hard. I've been able to block out so much of exboyfriend and exfiance for so long, now I have to begin thinking about this stuff so that I can remember what happened in order to be able to report it to police and brainstorm ways to get these fucking assholes behind bars.

Exfiance was laying the ground work to hurt people, and me, since before I ever met him. How many other girls has he done this to? How many more times will he get away with his evil schemes and how many more lives will he ruin?



I was asked why I want to report them now?

There are a lot of answers to this: I wasn't strong enough to see that I had done everything I needed to do in order to try to stop their actions against me (said no, physically trying to push them away, trying to avoid them, attempting to break up with them, trying to bring other people around when they wanted to hang out, etc); I want to get their actions on file even if there isn't enough evidence to convict them at this time; if other girls come forward, I want to know that I helped get those other girls justice, even if reporting them does nothing for me; I'm beginning to understand what happened to me; I'm not reporting them out of vengeance, I'm trying to consider the safety and life quality of the others they may come into contact with, nobody should have to deal with life the way I'm having to deal with it. Yes, it has taken me months, almost a year, to report them. However, it's taken me this long to get out of a numb state-of-mind so that I could start remembering the details and start realizing that what they've done is one of the worst crimes they can do against another living creature.


I've learned that many victims find reporting their abusers even more traumatizing than the actual assaults were originally. That is absolute bullshit. There is also like less than one person convicted of rape out of every 100 rapes reported. Some of those are fake reports of girls trying to get back at their boyfriends, but so many are unable to be prosecuted in any way because rapes come down to he said, she said.

I think this is because victims are in shock for so long, they don't understand what happened to them. By the time they come to and realize that what happened was against the law, it's often too late for a SANE exam, especially if evidence is needed to prove the rape was done by who the victim claims it was. Many people don't even know you need to go get a SANE exam if you are sexually assaulted/raped. I am in nursing school and have worked in hospitals for years and hadn't ever heard of a specific specialty in nursing for sexual assault cases. When I first heard the term "SANE exam" I thought it was a psych consult to see if I was telling the truth or crazy and reporting something that didn't actually happen. Our society is so backwards and uninformed about sexual assault and rape, most victims don't know and have no mental capacity (due to the shock) to be able to know that there are steps they need to take after something so traumatizing.



So, as far as reporting goes, I was asked to think about it for awhile longer. I was advised to wait until I'm stronger and not going through so much school stress. That poses a problem because I want to move away after I graduate and leave the state. How am I going to report these crimes if I'm in a different state?

Why is life so fucking hard?

Why are there not more intense bad words to fully express myself adequately? Maybe there are no words to be able to describe some things people go through because some things are so heinous and some emotions are so powerful and raw that words don't even come close to being sufficient.