I Am a Rape Survivor, but to You I Am a Pre-Existing Condition
Editor’s note: This piece discusses sexual assault, self-harm, suicide ideation, disordered eating, and could be triggering. If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “START” to 741-741. If you or a loved one is affected by sexual abuse or assault and need help, call the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline at 1-800-656-4673.
I am a pre-existing condition.
I am 3-a.m night sweats and night terrors,
debating whether or not to send an email,
crying out for help.
I am 5 years old, 6 years old, 7.
The fight is over, we are moving away.
No more playing house because Mommy says it’s not OK.
“That’s not how kids play house,” but I didn’t know any better.
I am 11 years old, grazing a safety pin across my skin, wondering what it would be like to hurt myself.
I am 12, 13, 14,
hurting myself.
I am…
I am sending the email this time. I am reaching out for help.
I am on Medicaid, and the government-paid psychiatrist tells me and my parents this is a normal part of growing up.
I am 15. I am 16. I am losing control. I am losing weight… fast.
I am black circles under my eyes because I haven’t eaten in days.
I am graduating high school.
I never thought I’d live this long…
I am falling in love.
I am going to the emergency room because I need stitches and I don’t want anyone to know.
I am alone.
I am in therapy.
I am telling secrets I have never told anyone before.
I am talking about being 5 years old and being sexually abused.
I am 18 years old. Drunk beyond consent… but I am an adult, I “should have known better.”
I am keeping secrets.
I am crying in my parents’ room.
I am telling my mother I was raped.
Almost two years too late.
I am in treatment.
I am in treatment.
I am learning I am not alone.
I am learning it wasn’t my fault.
I am getting better.
I am falling again.
I am 22. I thought I was better, so I stopped taking my medicines.
I am feeling alone again.
I am throwing up after I eat because it’s the one thing I have control over.
I am cutting myself again, but this time I don’t care who knows.
I am over 50 scars on my body mostly in places that no one will see.
I am bandages over my wrists and stitches on my ankle.
I am “too much” for outpatient treatment.
I am in treatment. Again.
I feel like a disappointment.
I need to grab the bull by the horns.
I am doing well on my meds and debating going back to school.
I am living alone.
I am scribbling a poem down on paper.
This might be my last one.
I am waking up with blood on my sheets and my dog licking the bandage on my leg.
I am needing to see a doctor but terrified anyone will find out.
I am changing the bandage.
I am going to the hospital almost 24 hours later.
I am in treatment. Again.
I am hundreds of miles away from home,
learning once again that none of it was my fault.
I am learning to breathe again.
I am learning to cope.
I am doing better.
I am doing so much better.
I am in recovery.
I am in recovery, but things are starting to get dark again.
I am in therapy saying I don’t think I need this anymore.
I am 25.
I am waking up to night sweats and night terrors and would rather not sleep at all.
I am debating sending an email or a text.
I am anxious. I am depressed.
I am struggling.
I am aware I may lose my health insurance and then I will have no choice on whether or not I need therapy anymore.
I am in serious debt.
I am wanting to go back to school.
I am holding down a job I love.
I am thriving in many ways.
I am learning I was born with a brain that works differently from others.
I am more than my anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, and eating disorder.
But to you,
I am a pre-existing condition.
If you or someone you know needs help, visit our suicide prevention resources page.
If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386 or text “START” to 741-741.
Follow this journey on My Hand and His Collide.
Thinkstock photo by Freezelight