I'm beginning to learn that staying silent and not telling anyone isn't getting me anywhere but a place of loneliness and depression.
Here's my story:
I was eleven years old when my male "friend" followed me into the women's restroom and attacked me. I, to this day, can only remember vague details of the entire incident. Here's a few of the details I clearly remember:
1. I didn't want it. I never gave him consent to touch me or follow me.
2. He was strong. Extremely strong.
3. He was heavy on top of me.
4. The cold floor and how intense his thrusts were.
5. How scared and hopeless I felt.
After that day, I avoided him at all costs and tried my hardest to delete the horrific memory from my mind. It's been six years and I'm just now beginning to remember more details and experience the effects of being attacked and raped. It's difficult for me to accept it and come to terms with the traumatic experience, but I know I need to.
I'm tired of trying to figure out why my two "friends" stood outside of the restroom while he attacked me.
I'm tired of trying to understand why he thought it'd be okay to follow me into the restroom and proceed to attack me.
I'm tired and angry that he thinks it's okay to try and add me on Facebook. I'm tired. Physically and emotionally.
I don't know why my brain has chosen to block out explicit/obvious details from that day. I can't tell you why six years later it's affecting me now and not then. Maybe it's because from that day forward I chose to forget about it and not tell a single soul; I never thought it would catch up with me in the future.
I guess buried memories always have a way of digging their way out.
So, here I am. Here's my story. Here's to me being vulnerable. Here's to me getting the help I deserve and need.
I hope you choose to do the same.