M.H.

Spring quarter freshmen year, I woke up in my dorm surrounded by several broken condoms and my tampon from the night before stuck too far inside of me. I still don't know a lot of what had happened that night. I still have a hard time admitting to anyone that I was raped, even myself. But there are things I do remember going into that night. I did know that I didn't want to have sex, especially with someone I didn't even know. I didn't want to play the victim. So I told myself it was my fault. I should have been stronger. I should have been able to stop it and be in control. I kept quiet and have carried that guilt with me for so long now. 

At the time I was involved with my on again off again high school boyfriend. I didn't realize he was abusive until he came to visit earlier that fall. We got into a fight. I ended up with a black eye, with him telling me that it was somehow my fault. But what was more painful was when I told him what had happened that spring, and I could hear the doubt in his voice. He didn't believe me. So I started not to believe me either. He blamed the issues we had in our relationship on the whole event. That summer I isolated myself in SLO, trying to distance myself, but I still thought I needed him around for some sort of comfort. So I made myself small. I tried everything I could to fix what I thought had been my fault. 

When sophomore year came around, I thought I could move on and put the whole event behind me. I broke off connection with him and masked everything with the temporary acceptance of other people. But I noticed I began to have issues in almost every relationship I went into. I didn't trust men, I felt powerless and inferior. I let myself feel reliant on them for my own validation, for my own self worth, and for my own happiness. I didn’t think anyone would believe me if I told them. I worried they would think differently of me. I never wanted anyone to think of me as weak, or that I couldn't take care of myself. So I hid it under partying and putting on a facade that everything was fine. I became manipulative and toxic. I used people for my own benefit. I made myself dependent on feeling ‘wanted’ by anyone. I lied, I cheated, and I hurt so many good people just to get the feeling of acceptance. My grades began to slip, I barely talked to my family, and relationships with my closest friends started to become strained. I pushed everyone away because I knew I was out of control and stuck in a destructive cycle. It wasn't until I finally reached out to my best friend Mel for help that I realized just how different I had become since what had happened freshmen year. I told her everything. She made me forget about guys through nights of crying together and watching movies and late nights in the lib. She exampled how to be a good friend, and be in a good, healthy relationship. Without her I don't think I would have made it through last year. 

I was sick of carrying all the guilt and blame and pain inflicted on me. I never wanted to be the victim, but I finally was okay with accepting that in these instances, I was. And accepting that I wasn't weak for asking for help. I was tired of suffering and covering it up over and over. I was tired on relying on men to ‘fix’ me. I wanted to fix me. So I did. I worked all summer on dealing with all the emotions that I had built up; about myself, about the guy who raped me, about my abusive ex, and especially about all the people I had hurt as a result of not being able to face it all. Something in me snapped, and I was sick of who I was becoming, so I changed. I wanted to be the one to make myself happy. So I did. And I never want to go back to who I was before. 

Coming into this year I had my mind set, I wanted nothing to do with guys. No guy friends, no boyfriends, no flings and definitely no hook ups. I knew I didn't need them for my own validation anymore, and it felt damn good. This year was for me. I was starting to finally feel like myself again, it was liberating. I didn't want anyone to take my independence from me now that I had it. But when I started living with a group of 6 guys and 9 girls I hadn't met before, I felt vulnerable again. All my friends were abroad and I knew the only person I could rely on was myself. I knew I had to find it within myself to handle it, determined not to let myself get back to the place I was in the year before. I wanted anything but to live with guys. I wanted nothing to do with them. They didn't know the first thing about me, and I was definitely not going to let them in. But the more time I’ve spent with them, the more I realized they had my back completely, without even knowing my whole history from the years prior. They would walk me home even if the party was across town. They would kick out any guy at our parties who made me or any of the girls living here uncomfortable. They didn't make me feel small. They finally made me laugh again and not think about the memories of pain in my past. They’ve become great friends; I’ve never had guy friends like them before. And they’ve made me understand that not all men are perpetrators or predators. The people I’ve surrounded myself with this year have helped me realize I no longer needed anyones justification for who I am, or for my own strength. 

I’m not perfect, sometimes I still don't “handle it” in healthy ways. I sometimes feel as though I have to portray this perfect, happy life; this perfect and happy recovery. But the truth is I mess up all the time, I still choose to rely on alcohol instead of sitting with my emotions sometimes to make myself feel better. I often have a hard time feeling worthy or good enough for people, sometimes I feel like I have to be a certain way for people to like me. Sometimes I feel I don't deserve love and happiness. The fear of being vulnerable and sharing my authentic self to others has haunted me for years, and is something I have to consciously practice. I’m still recovering, and growing and becoming through every experience, some harder to learn from than others. Even today its hard for me to convince myself that I am a girl who handles it, because I’m still battling internal demons and wrestling with who I am. I’m still figuring it out. But I do know I am beyond blessed to have such a supportive family and friends to love me through my worst days. 

Time & time again I see the unhelpful aspects of social media. Providing only warped expectations that fuel turmoil. But seeing that connection is vital to sharing the inspiration desperately needed in our world right now, I wanted to use this as a platform for advocacy. I hope it can resonate with you in some way. 

This past year, I’ve noticed how desensitized people are to the brokenness in our world. I’ve thought a lot about my experiences. I never thought it would make a difference to share them and make myself so vulnerable. I thought my story wasn't important enough. I thought I would I be confined to my past as my further identity. But I know we can see the consequences of silence manifest themselves in forms of discrimination and continued violence. Silence is compliance and silence is dangerous. The problem I’ve found when I shared my experiences was that people often respond with pity. There is so much stigma around sexual assault and domestic violence, I questioned myself because people were so uncomfortable talking about it. So I’ve stayed quiet. But after seeing the outpour of women's empowerment, the entire #MeToo and #TimesUp movement, as well as this local group of “girls who handle it”, I felt like it was an important community to stand by. I wanted to free myself, and stop hiding behind the fear of judgement. I’m not sharing to gain sympathy. But to add to the perspective and dynamics of this issue. To emphasize that we never truly know what others are battling due to the facade of social media. To inspire everyone to be advocates and promote change. I know now that I am not powerless. I am angry. I am disappointed in resources men and women have to access help. In the systems that fail to value the mental health and safety of people in our community. I’m tired of hearing the sexism thats embedded in our culture. But most of all, I am angry people are taught to repress struggles and stay silent because of the shame inflicted by our patriarchal system. I’ve learned how important it is to share your story not only for the empowerment of others, but to show yourself just how strong you are. And most importantly, that relying on others does not make you weak, but strengthens you. I can’t explain my gratitude for the important people who have been apart of my journey, who continue to support me, love me, and have made me who I am.