Lossofhope

16 years ago I was sexually assaulted. It happened the second month of my college career and forever changed who I was, who I am and who I imagine I will become. In the years following my assault, I would struggle to feel safe, to feel happy, to feel confident and it has forever impacted how I feel about justice.

I, like may children and young adults were told that justice existed and it was on the side of all who struggled. I expected that when people were bad, they would be punished and when people were good, they would be rewarded. Nothing could be further from the truth. Following my assault I lost my world, I lost my life, I lost myself and I lost my hope. The man who assaulted me lost nothing. He finished school and as far as I can tell through social media, is traveling the world.

Today, like many days, I sit and think about my life and my world. I think about how hard it has gotten to trust in the good around me. I think about how scary the world is, even though I am surrounded by people who protect and love me. I think about how much I have lost, over the years. I used to want to be a lawyer but after being treated like it was my fault, being ignored by police, doctors, counselors, school administrators and other people I tried to trust... I just realized my voice would not be heard.

It has taken 15 years of fighting, but I finally am able to remind myself to never stop using my voice. I have lost the trust of many, especially those whose job it was to help me... but I refuse to lose my voice. I will continue to talk about my journey, I will continue to put a face to rape culture and I will continue to speak up on behalf of those who feel they too have been muted.

I write this to remind those of you who feel lost, alone, scared and muted, that you have a voice. I know it make feel like that voice is not loud enough to be heard. I know you may take a few weeks, months or even years to work up the strength to use it again... but please remember it is the one thing that he/she/they cannot ever take!

There is no "right time" to speak, or "wrong time" to be silent... it is all on your watch BUT, when you feel you can stand up and speak out, do so with pride and with the reminder that you ARE worth hearing. It may take time and time again to feel heard, but never stop speaking up. I have found my journey to be terrorizing, I wouldn't wish it on anyone BUT when I speak up and when I use my voice...I finally get a moment of strength. Just because people may not hear you, does not mean you are not worthy of speaking.

We all have a voice, we all have a choice... be as loud or as quiet as you want BUT know that speaking up and speaking out is somethingnobody can ever take from you!!! We have lost enough, we cannot also lose our voice.

I’m in the depths of a pit at the moment. No one sees or maybe just doesn’t want to deal with the intense pain, I feel I am radiating to the world.

I am an extrovert who loves life, or I should say I used to be. Now, I have no joy within me. I’ve searched the synapses of my brain it for days; however, it’s like the pilot light to the positive existence I was once a part of, has been extinguished.

Where is my life long ability to push through? Why do I not leave the house? Who turned off the music? I need the DJ to turn the music back on.

#Iwantmylifeback

I feel so emotional right now. My heart is heavy and my mind is full of memories and moments where my mom has just been so controlling and hurtful. I suffer because of her! I lack self esteem, confidence, love because she’s never given it to me. This women looks at me and sees the worst in me. She has never complimented me on my successes she’s only criticized me. Every year for her birthday I give her a birthday card and a present and she says I don’t want that I want obedience and all I ever do I obey her. For God sakes I live in her house! I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to; I’m only 20. But this women makes my life so difficult to carry. I’m losing control and I’m drowning. The worst part is not looking like my mother in any physical way, I think she secretly hates me for it. I have always been a little heavier and she’s controlled everything I’ve eaten. If I eat anything that’s unhealthy even on a cheat day she has a field day with her criticisms. Don’t eat that you’re going to get fat, all you ever do is eat candy and cakes that’s why your so fat, you have lose weight look at your stomach. Or the way she talks about my hair (I have curly hair and she has wavy soft hair) how crazy it looks and how I need to fix it because I don’t look pretty like the other girls. I need to wear make up because I look unpresentable. This women spy’s on me, she wants to know what I’m doing, where I’m going, who I’m talking to. She dictates who I can talk to and I can’t talk to and if she doesn’t like them she projects those feelings of hatred and discontent at me. She never apologizes and I’m at breaking point. I use to argue with her trying to defend myself and get her to understand but now I just ignore her and when I do that she’s picks fights with me. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’m crumbling away #Depression #Anxiety #Stress #Broken #Crying #Lossofhope

2 years ago on Christmas Eve, our home was burgled while we were with family. One of the many things they stole was my laptop, with all of my storylines. #Lossofhope

I’m a romance/dramatic fiction novelist who writes when the mood strikes. So hearing well-meaning friends and family tell me, “oh, it’s all there in your head. You can just write it back down again!” made me feel bitter. I knew I could never get the same stories back, certainly not with the same emotion. Having those stories stolen crushed me. Absolutely. Effing. CRUSHED me.

But I did my best to move on. I’d gotten into therapy for grief counseling as I’d lost my grandmother that November. It was a bit serendipitous that I found my therapist shortly before this happened; I couldn’t cope with it because I couldn’t write, and she helped me through some dark days.

I even stopped reading because seeing the words on the page was just too much.

But I’ve been in a particularly low spot lately with much of my prior coping mechanisms no longer working. This time of the year is just tough. We live so far from family, we’ve lost so much around the time of the year, I just want it to be DONE so the pain can recede once again into the back of my mind. It HURTS!!

I wracked my brain for a healthy coping mechanism...and remembered the joy I always found in a good book. I bought a handful and read this past weekend. It was nice. It didn’t solve anything, but being able to put aside the tension I feel for those hours I was engrossed helped. A LOT.

And then today...I started writing. One of the stories that was lost “for good” came back to me. I don’t remember all the characters’ names or the exact storyline, so naturally it’s different, and it still hurts to know that the original is gone forever.

Even so...writing it down, getting into the emotions of the characters, feeling my muse flow through me into the pen and onto the paper again was absolute and total joy.

And it hurts like crazy.

And it feels amazing.

It makes me feel heartbreakingly hopeful.

#Depression #Anxiety #hoperekindled

2 days till first anniversary of my heart and love ##FeelingVunerable