I Am A Hypocrite And So Are You.

It’s true, but I didn’t realize it until about a minute and a half ago. But none of us are alone (not sure if that makes it better or worse, but that’s another obstacle for another day). I came across this realization after fighting with my parents, yet surprisingly enough, it had nothing to do with anyone being a hypocrite. The fight sparked my motivation to never want to live here for more than two weeks at a time… Some may blame this on being a college student, others may view it as wise and bold decision. No matter the case, that fire that they fueled lead to extensive research in multiple areas (which also may be a result of an ADHD kid off her meds for two weeks, but who really knows, right?). I not only research my future graduate school dreams, but I also research what more I needed to do to even qualify… Which obviously lead to the simple and broad term: experience.

All I need is experience? Well then I’ll get off my lazy yet stir crazy ADHD ass and do something about it. I will get that experience, I mean how hard can that be?! And then it hit me: take a risk.

Take a fucking risk.

Excuse my French, but seriously. Do it. You won’t regret it. Cause what? Even if I do then I at least learn my limits and what to steer clear of, right? So why not take that research assistant job I was too afraid to accept last semester? Why not write for the university blog? Why not join that psychology academic club? Why not apply for the leadership position I’m too scared to commit myself to? Why the hell not? If I don’t push myself, I won’t grow for shit. I’ll be living in my parents house not only for two weeks at a time but two YEARS at a time. Might as well plan my funeral now.

But why does this make me a hypocrite? Why does it make YOU a hypocrite? Because I have a feeling we’re more alike than we all lead on. How so? Well, that leadership position I was telling you about… The reason it scares me isn’t really because I’m scared of the commitment but because I’m scared of letting people down. I’m scared of lying to the people that look up to me. I’m scared of being a hypocrite.

The committee I would lead is a mental health committee that a bunch of girls in each greek sorority house decided to start in order to attack the mental health issues we all face on our campus. Our main goal is to eliminate the stigma as best as possible. How we think we can do so? Making it all normal. Why can’t people say that they’re depressed? Why do people look down upon those that put their mental health issues before their life? People with mental health issues are sick so why are they treated differently than people with the stomach flu? They shouldn’t. It’s a sickness and a disease, it shouldn’t be swept under the rug. They’re deadly for God’s sake! If you were diagnosed with cancer, would you keep it to yourself til it killed you? No. Well at least I hope not. So why can’t those suffering with cancer like illness do the same?

That’s our goal. We are the people that are going to tell our stories to prove to people that they can be open about their lives because yes, LIFE FUCKING SUCKS. Share the pain because honey, you aren’t the only one feeling it.

I would have never even applied to this committee if it wasn’t for my friend, let’s call him, Bob. I had met Bob is a few casual settings, usually in my boyfriend’s fraternity house I frequent, but one day stood out to me in particular. Not because of the weather or any event, in fact I’m pretty sure it was your average Monday night consisting of a beer and a Bob’s Burgers marathon (not to be confused with my friend Bob, for all of you non-cartoon watchers). Anyway, my boyfriend and I are sitting on his couch, enjoying a much needed beer after a long night of studying when we hear a knock at the window. It was Bob on the deck, looking for a lighter. My boyfriend at the time, let’s call him Tom, noticed that Bob wasn’t looking too hot so he asked how he was doing and his response is something I will never forget: “I’m not doing good, Tom. I just got back from class and we had this heated discussion about depression, like I’m sorry kid but if you’re truly in pain, don’t cut your wrists, cut your stomach or your feet. Wrists are for attention. I mean, I cut my feet for years and no one said a thing. People piss me off, man.”

“Did he really just tell us he’s depressed and used to cut himself? That was so casually! Do I ask if he‘s okay or play it off like ‘yeah man, you’re so right’? WTF just happened? I’m just trying to watch Tina count toothpicks and he drops this on me? But seriously, how did that come off so nonchalant and so easy for him? I cut myself too, should I be telling people that?” And those were just my initial thoughts… I haven’t gone a day without thinking about that since.

I later learned that Bob had started a mental health organization on campus called Bring Change 2 Mind where their sole focus is to erase the stigma of mental health. And that’s what he did with me. If that discussion between Bob and Tom was normal, everyday conversation then this world would be a whole lot different and we need more people like Bob to make that happen. And cue us.

This was our mission, along with a few others, as well. I wanted to be like Bob. I wanted to be that confident with who I am because of where I’ve been and NOT be ashamed of it. And I’m not… For the most part. The good thing about going through so much is that you only have to tell a little for people to think they know you. We’ve all gone through a major life event, good or bad. And for those who haven’t, frankly, I’m sorry. I have grown into a mature, well-rounded 20 year old and I wouldn’t change a second of that for anything.

But that’s why I’m a hypocrite. Because I can tell you the story of how I struggle with anorexia, how two of my boyfriends try to kill themselves over me, how alcohol was my drink of choice, how the knife was my utensil of choice, how my mom was my enemy, how my sorority sister and friend got murdered… All this and how each of these things and more changed my life forever, and in the end, all in a good way, yet I’m still a hypocrite.

Why? Because I use all that to hide behind the thing that haunts my underlying anxieties of every day life: rape.

Rape.

Wow, rape. It’s such a powerful word. A powerful word that everyone is afraid to use because it is often misused or joked about or what have you. But I was raped. And I refuse to tell anyone. Why? Because frankly it’s embarrassing. It was by an ex boyfriend of mine in high school who had sex with my unconscious body. At least I don’t remember it, right?

But this is me trying to rid myself of the label hypocrite. This is me telling you guys to do the same. Let your weaknesses show. Please, you’ll change and even save someone’s life like Bob did mine. I will apply for that leadership position because I want that girl that’s like me to share her story. Don’t let them control you. Take charge. Take that fucking risk and prove to people that you are strong women for defeating whatever demons are in your closet. Or even better, take that fucking risk and defeat that fucking demon right now! Trust me, it’s the greatest and most eyeopening thing you will ever do. And that’s me downplaying it.

I’d be lying if I said their may be some people that tell you you’re being dramatic, but guess what? DON’T listen to them. Because you know why? They are either jealous that you have the will power to dig yourself out of the emotionally draining ditch when they don’t. I listen. I did. I listen to one person who told me I was overthinking things and explained to me that “you can’t get raped by someone you’ve already had sex with”. God, was I dumb. It took four years for me to tell someone other than Tom and that person, along with Bob, changed my life. He looked me in the eyes as he cried and said to me, “you listened to someone who told you to look the other way, now listen to the person who’s telling you to attack it”. So here I am, attacking it.

Hypocrisy can shove it cause I’m done hiding behind a prepubescent high schooler. I’m a rape victim, and I’m here to tell my story and live my life.