Trigger Warning: This story includes topics of rape and sexual harassment.
“I was diagnosed with severe generalized anxiety disorder, depression, and PTSD at the age of 19. In the year of 2016, when I thought that this would be the prime year of my life, I was raped by a man I knew from high school and sexually harassed and exploited by a former college teammate.
Iʻve replayed these moments over and over and over again, wishing that I did more to stop them from happening or made better decisions that wouldʻve prevented them in the first place. I even convinced myself that I made everything up in my head. But, no matter what, this part of my story canʻt be unwritten and I will forever have to keep this burden on my chest. I told my best friend and some other close friends about what happened, but kept these secrets from my parents for over a year. I remember being so afraid to tell my mom when I came home one night and bawled when I was finally able to get the words out. The next morning, she told my dad, the most stoic man in the world. His reaction made my chest ache, as he was crying so hard and telling me ‘I’m so sorry, I couldʻve protected you more.’
I tried so hard to hide myself from the world. I did my best to act like I was fine and tried to cope with the pain as much as possible, but I became so anxious around people that I quit the sport I loved and hoped that my life would just end already. I was so embarrassed and angry at myself for being so stupid.
I sought therapy through the school my junior year of college, hoping that talking about what happened to me would make everything better. I was prescribed medication for my depression (that I no longer take) but my anxiety worsened, turning into episodes of what felt like mini heart attacks along with uncontrollable sobbing and hyperventilation. My panic attacks and depression became so debilitating that I failed all of my classes that semester and was on the verge of dropping out of school.
I needed to free myself from the burden I was carrying on my shoulders and told the world my stories on social media. It sparked so much outrage that my offenders tried to discredit me. I was called a liar and an attention-seeker, which took a toll on how I viewed myself. Was I even being courageous or was I really just trying to draw attention to myself in some sick, twisted way? I kept doubting my memories of what happened to me until over 15 other women reached out to me, telling me that they experienced the same trauma as I did by the same two men. It was the first time the majority of these women talked about their assaults and they wanted to keep our conversations private until they were ready to publicly talk about their stories. But, my bravery was able to give them a voice they never had before. With their stories, I was finally able to believe and forgive myself for taking blame for my trauma.
To this day, these terrible, horrible moments replay in my head over and over again. I can remember every detail, every emotion I felt as my life was drastically changing. They haunt me in my nightmares. They trigger me without me even realizing it. They consume me on the days I feel the weakest and most vulnerable. I cannot go to specific places or do certain activities anymore because my emotions will overwhelm me enough to cause a panic attack. Every year on the date of the day I was raped, I always feel this sense of uneasiness and mourn the death of my past self. I will never be the same person I was before I was 19.
I battle with my anxiety every day. It’s like a leech that I canʻt get off of me, sucking the life out of me whenever it pleases. It affects me at the most inconvenient and random moments: whenever I hear certain phrases, when someone touches me, when I meet new people, or even when I’m just relaxing at home. My fight with it is exhausting and affects my ability to sleep, my emotions, and my actions or reactions. And when it occasionally drains me too much, my depression worsens because I feel like a hopeless case. But I continue to fight every day, not just for myself or my loved ones, but for so many survivors of sexual assault and exploitation.
Today, I can happily say that I am so much better than I was 6 years ago. Some days, especially as I continue my journey as a nursing student, I feel like my emotions can take over and prevent me from getting anything done. But now, I’ve surrounded myself with good people who love me and believe in me. I know my limitations and triggers a little more and am able to set boundaries for myself when needed. Iʻve found ways to cope with my anxiety and anger, finding relief in lifting weights, taking days off for some self care, and actually talking through my intrusive thoughts and feelings.
I found a greater purpose in life to be a voice and support for those who arenʻt ready to speak out just yet (or ever, which is okay, too!) and break the stigma on mental health issues. I want people to know that I believe them and can empathize with the pain and hurt they’re suffering from every day. I hope that my story is able to give strength to those who feel as weak and troubled as I sometimes do. PTSD, anxiety, and depression are difficult mental health disorders to battle with, and sometimes you feel too tired to fight back. It’s hard to feel seen or heard or understood when these conditions are so easy to hide with a smile or laugh. But I see you, and I hope you can see me too. Youʻre not alone and never will be.
Because so many of our conditions are not visible to the naked eye, please be kind and patient with others, even if it’s hard to. We never know what someone is struggling with and our actions can easily affect the rest of his or her day. Always choose to spread happiness and love rather than anger and hate.”
Destinee
