Depression, Assault, And Healing
Hello. I’m not quite sure how to start this out so I’m just going to jump right into this.
It started with my childhood which I don’t remember much of actually. I do remember my dad coming home drunk and starting fights with my mom. There was constant yelling and he would always punch holes in the walls. I am the youngest and I have two older sisters.
Because of this, we were always pretty scared those nights.
I remember one night I was getting out of the shower and my dad was banging on doors and windows trying to get in because he was locked out. I was so scared I hid in my room behind my bed so he couldn’t see me from outside. Of course that was after my parents got a divorce.
The problem was that my mom still let my dad come around and stay the nights sometimes because she thought we still needed him in our lives. She was wrong because the longer it dragged on, the more damaged we became.
I don’t blame her for anything though. I blame the alcohol and all the other drugs that consumed my father or who was my father. Life went on and I grew older.
Fast forward to eighth grade. I reconnected with my best friend that year. Now in eighth grade I started dating this guy and I swore I was in love with him or whatever. Long story short I lost my virginity to him. I hope none of you judge me because I thought I was going to be with him forever and that was my mentality until… my freshman year. I found out he was cheating on me and I was devastated.
I broke up with him and went two months trying to get over him. It was a messy break up as he would try to call me and insult me when he knew I already moved on.
After that point in my life I fell into a deep depression.
I found out about self-harm and started cutting myself. It was never really that deep but it did something. Overall, sophomore year was the worst of them all. I liked this guy in my English class. Let’s call him Lewis and I thought he was sweet and kind, blah, blah, blah. He was also very successful in school so I guess I liked that a lot too and I assumed it would mean he’s a good guy.
Well, I was wrong. Boy, was I wrong. We started dating and with the way he treated me I started to believe that I was worthless and I deserved to be treated like the piece of crap I was. I was still cutting myself at this time and I had a close friend at this time too who also harmed herself.
Well Lewis knew about my cutting and he would always yell at me for doing it and call me stupid and a bunch of stuff. It was a big problem since I leaned on cutting so I couldn’t really stop and honestly the relationship wasn’t all that great so I couldn’t stop.
Anyways that is how the relationship went on which was very damaging. We would fight all the time and I would always have to feel like I would have to be careful around him or when I was talking to him as to not anger him.
Anyways, February came… February 17th was the worst day ever.
It was the day he raped me.
It took me two and a half years to accept the fact that it wasn’t my fault. It took me one year to tell my best friend what happened. She was mad that I kept it from her for so long but she understood and was completely devastated and furious.
I was 15 at the time of the assault. I didn’t go to therapy until I was 18. I have gotten really close to committing suicide twice. The first time my mom made me go see a counselor. It was our agreement so she wouldn’t send me to a mental hospital. Keep in mind that to this day none of my family knows about the incident.
Anyways, I went to the counseling as we agreed and talking to this counselor guy. I told this guy everything, like about the sexual assault, how I had an alcoholic dad, etc. I was 17 I believe at this time but this counselor guy took a different route.
Instead of prescribing me antidepressants or something, he blamed my almost suicide attempt on my seizure medication. He ignored the fact that I was raped, hated myself, and wanted to die. It wasn’t my medication.
Anyways, because of his idea on the situation I had to talk to my neurologist (doctor) to change my prescription. It was a lot of work and really didn’t affect me. The second time, cops were called to my house and I had to talk to them.
Two and a half years after the incident, I actually went to therapy.
Anyways, therapy helped a lot and I learned that a lot of my past relationships were abusive and unhealthy. I blamed it on my childhood and the way I had to grow up.
I learned a lot and it helped me heal. Sometimes it gets hard but I have a support group and they love me.
I will heal and I will get through this day by day. I am now a warrior and I am now a survivor. You can do it too. I love you. Stay Strong.