This is my story of survival. This is something that has taken me quite some time to open up about, but I also feel that it is beyond important for me to no longer be silenced and shamed for it. So here we go

In this country, 1 in 5 women will be sexually assaulted in their lifetimes. The statistic is even higher for Native American women, being 1 in 3. In June of 2014, I became a statistic.

I had just finished up my first year at NDSU, and it was nothing short of amazing. I had never been so happy in my life. There was always something new to do, new people to meet, and I just loved the campus in general. I made a ton of new friends thanks to my program and being in the Gold Star Marching band. Although there was personal issues in regards to my relationship with my girlfriend at the time, I was generally a pretty happy camper. What could go wrong?

My relationship had ended a few months prior with this, so I of course had a couple different dating apps. I had been talking with this girl for a few days and one night she had asked to me to come hang out with her and some friends. I agreed. I went over and she had lived in a house with a few other people, and they were having a small get together. This small get together eventually became a full-fledged party. I was having a great time, but realized I had felt…not all there, so to speak. I still cannot exactly recall what happened that night, but I do know that I had only had a drink or two and I should not had been feeling the way I was feeling. The next thing I know, its morning. To my discomfort, I woke in a bed that I had no idea how I got into. There was a rip in my shirt, my pants undone. I felt sick to my stomach. My head went to the worst, although I tried not to think about it. All that day and the next few, I felt a pain in my genital area. It hurt to pee, and I was in pain and discomfort throughout the day. I knew what had happened. I could not admit it to myself. I wanted to go to the hospital, but I know I couldn’t afford the visit on my own, and although I am under my parents insurance I feared that it would show up on the statement, and questions would be asked. Between this, issues with the former roommate, my ex and moving I felt myself go into a slump. I couldn’t face anyone or anything. I disappeared from my friends for two days. Not speaking to anyone, losing sleep and my sanity. I eventually came around again after days of hell. I would scare myself with the possibilities, my mind would race and I would have such bad anxiety attacks I would vomit. I was able to garner up the courage to go to a local hospital for a pregnancy test and STD testing, both of which I was able to pay for out of pocket. Thankfully, both came out negative. The reality had to set in though. Through my own personal research I found that there was a tear in my vagina, a common occurrence in assault and that I had likely been slipped a drug. I couldn’t take it. It shook me to my absolute core. How could I have allowed myself to be put in this position? I hated myself. I should have stayed home that night. I shouldn’t have done this and that, this and that. My defense mechanism was to pretend that it never happened. I self-medicated myself with alcohol. I found myself spiraling out of control. I felt so ashamed of myself, feeling as though what had happened was my fault. I developed an anxiety with men. I couldn’t be alone. What had hit me the most about this, was that I did not know and never will know who assaulted me. They are still out there, possibly hurting others. They’ll never have to look me in the face. They’ll never have to face repercussions.

Things for me had only gotten worse from here. I pretended what had happened, wasn’t real. I was not a victim. I was not another statistic. That summer I was drinking almost daily to forget my problems. I drowned myself in work, come home to party, sleep, then repeat. I was also dealing with constant harassment from my ex. everything was going wrong and I could not shake away the shame I felt. That fall, things took somewhat of a turning point. When school started, I slowed down with my drinking. I was dealing with constant harassment and arguing with the male roommate that I had lived with, until I finally reached a breaking point and moved out because I could not stand to be around him anymore. I was still dealing the messed up relationship with my on again/off again girlfriend. Then things got bad again. I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed most days. I failed half the classes I took that semester was beginning to fall away from the small friend group that I had become close with, I secluded myself. I didn’t want to be alive. Fall of 2014 I made an attempt to end my own life and ended up in a local mental health hospital. This, was a blessing in disguise. I found that I had a group of people in therapy that were there for me. However, I still could not bring myself to talk about my assault. Throughout my time here in Fargo, I met and talked with and was told stories by people who had been assaulted. Every single time was an opportunity for me to open up and tell someone but I just couldn’t. I didn’t want anyone to feel pity for me. Eventually, after months of keeping it to myself, I told a close friend. She had experienced something similar and told me something that I found absolutely profound. I was not a victim. It was not my fault. I was assaulted and I was a survivor.

I eventually completely ended my relationship with my ex. The relationship was abusive, although that’s a story for another time. I had turned things around in school and made the deans list. I made new friends and strengthened relationships with old. Best of all, I met the love of my life, Liz. Things did a complete 180, but I still had this lingering cloud over my head. The rape. I told Liz, who was completely supportive and understanding and comforted me. I felt so used and ashamed by what happened to me and convinced myself that no one would ever love me. Liz showed me that I am worthy, and that she loves the survivor in me. I became comfortable enough to tell a few more friends, and found power that I was not a victim, but a survivor.

Something else happened around this time as well. Anyone who knows me, knows I love Lady Gaga. She recently released a song “Til it Happens to You” when I first listened to it, I didn’t know the context. I looked into it, and immediately sank into a puddle of tears. The song was a song of surviving sexual assault. Through the message, the lyrics, the video, I found myself even more empowered. Every day, I hear more and more stories of survival, even from Gaga herself. I’m not telling this story so that anyone can feel sorry for me. I’m here telling this story because I want other people who have been faced with this heinous act to know that you’re not alone. There is strength with each other. YOU are not your assaulter’s victim. YOU are a survivor, of the highest caliber. Society tells us that we should be silent on this issues, and I refused to be silent anymore. I’m becoming comfortable with my past, because it has made me into the advocate I am today. I promised myself that I will do what I can to end rape culture and the silencing and shame of survivors. It’s on all of us to end it, we can no longer stand by and let these things happen. I want to thank all of you that have stepped forward for your bravery. Thank you to my assaulter, you’ve shown me how strong and brave I really am, and thank you to you, the reader. Help me, help us, end the violence.

“You were given this mountain to show others it can be moved”