anonymous

 

I was fifteen when my depression started getting really bad and my self harming was a danger to my life when I went to a psychiatric hospital. While there, I met this boy who, at first, I found really annoying. He and another girl were sharing their self harm stories and I silently watched. As he was preparing for discharge, I really wanted to be his friend. We talked a lot and as he was leaving, I slipped him a blue bracelet I made along with my number into his hand. The day after I got out of the hospital, I went to his house. My other hospital friend was there too, but left shortly after I arrived. The boy, who I will call E, and I were left alone. I was wearing a shirt that had purposeful rips in the back. We were in his kitchen getting food and he placed his hand on my back and commented on how I must have been cold. Once back in his room (he almost never left his bedroom) we played cards while flirting. I had a boyfriend at the time, but I was very, very ill. I was still very suicidal and should not have left the hospital. My judgements were made on an impaired mind. He leaned in and kissed me. I did not want it. After a few moments, though, I leaned over and kissed him back. These were my first kisses and I didn't know what I was doing. In the following months, our relationship was very rocky. We were always fighting and then I would go to his place and make up and then fight again. Following a long time apart, I messaged him over Facebook. We began a very sexually charged conversation for the next few weeks. We planned for me to go to his place and we would throw our virginities to the wind and have sex. I was to bring the condoms because he couldn't afford to buy one and too lazy to walk outside. On the day we were supposed to meet, I backed out. I refused to go and we had very little contact for a bit. Then, a few weeks later he was very depressed and so was I. I went to his place on September 21, 2014. I brought a condom, but told him I did not want sex and that I was giving the condom to him so he could use it with another girl. 

I have to stop myself. I'm lying. I always lie when it comes to this part. I was fully ready to have sex. That's why I brought the condom. I am so, so ashamed of this part that I have lied for almost three years about. We were going to do "it" when I became uncertain and nervous. I changed my mind and didn't want it. I didn't say no, but I said I was uncomfortable with "this" and didn't know if I wanted to go ahead. He ignored me and went fully ahead. It happened three more times that night along with another forced sexual favor. 

I was fifteen and thought I had the perfect life. I was raped and sexually assaulted on an unusually warm fall day. I was traumatized and diagnosed with PTSD.

I was sixteen and in a group home (due to my depression) when I had a flashback. It wasn't due to the incident with E though. Prior to the flashback I was thinking of how lonely I was and thought back to when I was little. Cue the flashback. I suddenly remembered I was in my neighbor's house with my sister. We were playing truth or dare with my neighbor, I will call her K. K told us a dare that we had to do and had to keep secret. This is where it got fuzzy. I remembered pulling down my pants and I have memories of being touched. I had blocked it out for years. 

I was molested as a child and did not even remember it until I was traumatized by E and in a group home.

Pieces were coming into place like a puzzle, explaining my depression and the possibility that I've had PTSD much longer than I thought. I was very angry with myself for letting K touch me. I was scared that she touched my sister too, but I cannot remember that. 

I was seventeen when I had another "new" flashback. It was in the summer of 2016 and I was proudly living at home and working at Dunkin Donuts. Up until then I thought I was finally better. No more depression for me. But, one day at work, I was in the bathroom when I felt someone opening up my legs even though no one was there. I felt hands everywhere. These body memories were unlike anything I've had. I became very suicidal at the prospect I might've also been abused. I was sent back to the hospital where more memories came up. I was a child, I'm not sure of the age, but there was a man. I cannot remember or see the man's face. I felt him "down there" and felt my hands tugging at his hair, trying to push him away. After the hospital visit, I was sent back to the group home. I was showering when I felt the hands again. And whenever I sat—or rather, sit, because it still happens—I felt/feel a hand pushing down my head and moving my neck. I am coming to terms with the fact I was sexually abused at a very young age. I am facing the horror that this may be why I'm so "screwed up." I am facing the true terror that my childhood was messed up. All along I couldn't remember much of it but thought it was perfect. It wasn't and that scares me senseless.

I have lived a life of abuse and that is not okay. On February 25 of this year, I turned eighteen. I am still at the group home and have been accepted into college.

Today, I went back to school to find out a month ago a girl took a picture of my bare butt and posted it on Instagram with a nasty comment. Two girls from school saw it and laughed at it. 

I feel violated all over again. 

But, "this too shall pass." 

I have to remind myself: I am eighteen. I am going to college. I am kicking ass. 

I got this.

I am still not able to put the past behind me. I am not comfortable with talking about it with my therapist yet, but I am determined to eventually recover. I have had PTSD for my whole life and it has nearly killed me. But,

I have survived.