So, this is my life now! I’m a victim of rape and a woman who was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and I’m suppose to be okay with this? Never in a million years will I understand why this happened to me. Why did he pick me? Why did he decide to take my innocence away? Questions that continue to haunt me as I write. How am I going to survive this? How am I going to tell my family what happened to me? Will they even believe me? So many questions ran through my mind as I sit here alone in my room wondering what’s next for me. I was scared…
As a lot of you know I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in 2017. The trauma that lead to my diagnosis – I was raped. Without going into too much detail, it was brutal and I’m lucky to be alive. I honestly don’t know how I survived. But what a lot of you don’t know is in 2017, I actually thought about taking my own life. After I began to self-disclose, I started to lose a lot of people in my life. And it broke me into a million pieces. The darkness began to consume me, and the light in my eyes slowly began to dim to the point I didn’t know how much longer I could deal with the pain.
I would hide behind the mask. That was the only way I felt safe. The only way I could make it through the day. At the time, I felt like my friends and family would be better off if I took the easy way out. If I took those pills and wasn’t here anymore. In fact, I pictured them happy, as I held those pills tightly in my hand. Every negative thought I had, drove me to that night. I was tired of feeling alone. I was tired of people treating me differently because I have a mental illness. And I was tired of feeling like an outcast.
I didn’t ask to have my innocence taken away. I didn’t ask to be raped by a monster. I didn’t ask to have a mental illness and I definitely didn’t ask for my aunt and uncle to be taken away from us. I was tired of my family not checking in. That’s part of the reason I stopped telling my family, because those that knew, didn’t care. And least, that’s what my mind told me at the time. The flashbacks of what happened to me that horrific day came flooding back once again. As I sat there, the tears began to stream down my face. I was so angry and I was so frustrated but I hid it. That was the only thing I could do. I had to, because I was tired of it all. That night, when I was ready to end it all, my guardian angel saved me. They told me, “I was worth it.” And I believed them. I knew I had a long road ahead. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy but I began to build a roadmap and I began to work on myself and the vision I had for my foundation. I even began to use Microsoft office. To this day, I have written over 30,000 pages and I’m still going strong. I finally found my purpose in life. I’m ready for the next stage in my healing process. I’m ready to take my foundation to the next level. But most of all, I’m ready to learn to love myself once again.
While I’m not a counselor or a therapist, I am a survivor of rape. I am a woman who has PTSD and I am working on overcoming the trauma in my life. Do I have a long way to go? You bet I do! As the anniversary of my diagnosis is this month, my goal is to share more of my journey and my story with you. To open the lines of communication as I continue to move forward…one step at a time, one day at a time! And remember you are not alone!