Sharing And Surviving

Living with C-PTSD

Recent Posts

  • Hate Me Alone

    Many years ago, a woman I was dating told me that another woman told her to be careful with me. My ex was told that I was a “predator.” I can remember the bewilderment and utter rage I felt. The woman spreading the misinformation did not have the first clue about me or my life; yet, she felt the need to attack my character. While over a decade has passed, I’ve never forgotten how it felt to have my name dragged through the mud.

    A few weeks ago, I found out that another woman was bad-mouthing me to a newly acquired friend. This woman was seemingly horrified that another person had formed a connection with me. While I don’t know what was said, I can guarantee that the misinformation was based on her own insecurities and short-comings. I wonder if this woman told our mutual friend any of the positive experiences we shared. Did she share the fact that even though we were essentially strangers, I agreed to take pictures at her birthday party for free? Did she share the fact that I offered to pay her cash for the services she provided through her employer so she could personally profit? Did she share the fact that even though she blatantly disrespected me by flirting with my then girlfriend, I merely removed her as a part of my life rather than reacting?

    In both of these situations, I did not do anything to justify having my character attacked. And both have left me feeling disheartened and quite frankly angry. Did tearing me down, make them feel better about themselves? What was the purpose?

    To my haters, please ask yourself these two questions. What do you gain by attacking my character? What about my character makes you doubt yourself? Also, if I have behaved in a manner which warrants rumors, please have the courage and decency to confront me rather than talk behind my back.

  • How Could This Happen to Me?

    This arrangement is dedicated to the Survivors of Sexual Assault

    “[Referring to rape] It already is bigger than everything else. It lives in front of me, behind me, next to me, inside me every single day. My schedule is dictated by it, my habits by it, my music by it.”
    ― Daisy Whitney, Mockingbirds

    On April 10, 2003, I awoke to the sound of the shower. Where was I? Why was I naked? What happened?

    How could I report “it” when I didn’t even know what “it” was. That evening I told myself that whatever happened was my fault. I had to put “it” behind me and push forward. It was time for me to focus on my Airman Leadership class; once again I would graduate as a “Honor Graduate.” And that’s what I did. I buried “it”deep down inside.

    Over the next year, I felt so much anger. I was so pissed off at the world. And I found myself resenting everything about the Air Force. What happened to the overachiever? The perfectionist? Was I giving up on my dream of becoming a commissioned officer? What was wrong with me?

    I volunteered for a 45-day deployment to Rhein Maine, Germany. My hope was that I would remember everything that I loved about serving our Nation. Unfortunately, the 45-day deployment turned into a 53-day, psychotic inducing series of events.

    Two days into the deployment, a fellow NCO started to flirt with me. As a female in the Armed Force, it wasn’t anything new. “Boys will be boys”, right? The flirting didn’t feel harmless. And I wondered how many times I would have to deny his request to “give me a massage” in my room.

    I did not realize at the time but the “harmless” flirting triggered memories I had buried the previous year. 5,300 miles away from safety, I realized that “it” had happened. I realized that “it” had a name: rape. My acknowledging of the rape was significant. Yet it would not be part of the trauma I experienced in Germany.

    I am not a victim of sexual assault. I am a survivor. No amount of inner strength erases the questions that I had when I woke up to the sound of the shower. After the rape and as I endured multiple bouts of psychosis, I often wondered, “How could this happen to me?”

  • I Can’t Breathe

    Today I have a phone appointment with my psychiatrist. Over the past few days, I have contemplated what to say. The obvious is that depression has cloaked itself around me. It’s a struggle to function outside of work. I often escape reality by closing my eyes as I sleep away the day. And then comes the shame of wasting my time. The shame of not being strong. The shame of feeling dead while my body continues to function. The shame of having so much to be thankful for; yet, feeling like none of it matters.
    And then we have the medication paradox. When we lower my medication, I feel so incredibly raw. My emotions stifle my lungs and it’s hard to breathe. With medication, I feel so incredibly numb that nothing seems to matter. Is there a middle ground? Is there a way to live without feeling so disconnected from life? Or is this just how I will continue to function as an individual with PTSD? Barely living. Barely breathing.

    “Emotional pain is not something that should be hidden away and never spoken about. There is truth in your pain, there is growth in your pain, but only if it’s first brought out into the open.” —Steve Aitchison

  • This War Is Over

    I was scheduled to leave Frankfurt, Germany on July 31, 2004. I checked in my luggage and obtained my ticket/boarding pass. The relief I felt as I handed over my boarding pass quickly vanished. Somehow my ticket had been canceled and I would not be allowed to board the plane. Fortunately, I contacted the individual responsible for securing transportation for arriving and departing members. This individual’s name is Jaime. Jaime was able to purchase a ticket to depart the next day and lodging off base. Jaime assured me that he would not get into any trouble and that the MEO (Military Equal Opportunity officer) would protect him. Jaime and another member of the deployment squadron drove me to the lodging without informing anyone else that I was still in Germany. Jaime told me to rest, not to go back on base, and to take the hotel shuttle back to the airport in the morning. I should have listened to him.

    I ran back to the base which was a few miles up the road and made my way to Jaime’s room. I needed to ask him one simple question: what was said behind my back about the informal sexual harassment complaint I had filed? I was told that I was seen as a traitor and all I did was complain. I was told that my room and office had been bugged and everything I had said and done would be used to prove that I was mentally unfit. That the goal was to get me kicked out of the Air Force. My heart broke into a million pieces with each word. I thanked Jaime for telling me the truth and left.

    I returned to my room with a broken soul. I knew I had not broken any rules or regulations. I knew I followed protocol when I reported the sexual harassment. What did I do wrong? All I knew was that I could not face my family if I was going to be dishonorable discharged from the military. I couldn’t return to my unit and be seen as anything less than an overachiever who loved the Air Force. Betrayal, despair, confusion, and a severe lack of sleep lead me down a very dark road which ended with suicide. I picked up the phone to tell my Mother goodbye one last time. When she answered she was crying. My Mother told me she missed me and just wanted me home. As I put down the phone, I knew I couldn’t end my life.

    The next morning, August 1, 2004, I boarded the plane. As the plane ascended, I started to write down everything that happened during my 53-day deployment. The lack of sleep, the betrayal, the fear, confusion, and reliving my experience created the perfect storm. This perfect storm was the switch between sanity and psychosis. As I was leaving behind one nightmare, I did not realize I was slipping into one which would last for two years.

    When the lights of Albuquerque became visible, “This War Is Over” started to play in my mind.

    Take off my shield
    Carry my sword
    I won’t need it anymore
    Find me a sky
    Give me my wings
    Frozen and broken but free

    Tell them I’m all right
    I’m coming home
    Tell them I’m all right
    I am alone
    This war is over
    I’m coming home

    Take off my shame
    Bury it low
    I won’t need it anymore
    Find me the sun
    Give me it whole
    Melt all the chains in my soul

    Tell them I’m all right
    I’m coming home
    Tell them I’m all right
    I am alone
    This war is over
    I’m coming home

    Take off my pain
    Carry me slow
    I won’t fight here anymore
    Tell them I’m all right
    I’m coming home
    Tell them I’m all right
    I am alone
    This war is over
    I’m coming home

    I will never be able to make sense of what happened in Germany. I will never be able to forget the torment and fear that is called psychosis. I will never be able to forget the shame I felt when I was denied re-enlistment. But I will also never forget that somehow in all of the confusion, I found the strength to fight for a medical retirement. I found the strength to ask for help when the psychosis was too much to handle on my own. I know that strength started the moment my Mother told me to come home. And the strength continued with the love and support of my Parents and family, my friend Mark, Theresa, and La-Tressa, and so many other amazing people. I am so grateful that I found the strength to keep living.

    https://www.youtube.com/embed/Wof7bWGLA3E
     

  • My Answer

    In April of 2008, I blogged about my feelings after watching “The Brave One,” starring Jodie Foster. When I first watched it, I was drawn to her description of the stranger she became after her trauma. “It is astonishing, numbing, to find that inside you there is a stranger. One that has your arms…your legs… your eyes. A sleepless, restless stranger who keeps walking…keeps eating…keeps…living.” I, too, saw a stranger each time I looked in the mirror.

    The stranger who emerged as a result of my trauma is the woman I am today. My reactions aren’t always justified or warranted. My reflexes are still easily jolted. I often push people away. Sometimes, fear is the only identifiable emotion coursing through my veins in this perpetual state of “fight or flight.” I have often been ashamed of those changes; but that shame stops today.

    I’m so much more than the negative characteristics. I’m a woman who shares her heart and loves too easily. Even though I have often regret it, I still trust too easily. I try each day to be a better person than I was yesterday.

    As the movie ends, Sarah McLachlan’s song, “Answer,’ begins to play as Jodie Foster’s character, Erica, says, “There is no going back to that other. She’s gone. This thing, this stranger, it’s all you are now.” And in the moment, I realized that my answer CANNOT be found in another person.

    The reality is that my strength and the answer on how to continue breathing can only be found from within self. The courage needed to wash away the regret I’ve often felt for “choosing not to fight,” cannot be found in another person. I, alone, need to forgive myself and acknowledge that I did what had to be done in order to survive.

    While I am far from perfect…I am enough.

    SERO

  • Harder

    Harder

    November 7, 2004

    Anniversaries are common. Some anniversaries are celebratory; and other are not. Whether or not the date is joyous, an anniversary seldom passes without a moment of introspection.

    Before November 7, 2004, the date was a day of celebration. November 7th is my Father’s birthday. However, November 7, 2004, was not only my Father’s birthday but also a date of personal growth.

    On this date, I begged God to either end my life or give me the strength to get up off my knees and give me the courage to face my reality. As I stood up, I was not sure how I would navigate my way out of my trauma induced-psychosis. All I knew for certain was that I was ready to fight.

    This November 7th, I was feeling depressed and defeated. Normally when I’m depressed, I’ll listen to sad music. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, I decided to listen to new music suggested by iTunes. The first song that played was Harder by Keala Settle. The lyrics of this song resonated deep within my soul.

    When I was in that place
    I’d look in the mirror wishing she could go away
    Never thought that I would still be here today
    I’m still fighting but I’m stronger every step I take along the way

    I was reminded that I‘m still not ready to give up. I am a testament that a person can be lost and find their way back. If you’re in a bad mental place, please don’t give up. Let’s fight harder together.

    https://youtu.be/gGekzcDVmmY

  • Every Back Is Turned

    I had an psych appointment today at VA. As I approached the waiting area, I recognized a male member of my squadron. He was someone in my line of command whom I had trusted and respected. Unfortunately, his inaction destroyed both of those ideals after my deployment to Germany. Even though we had made eye contact, he quickly shifted his attention as I sat across from him. I wonder was he embarrassed to be seen seeking mental help or was he just avoiding me. Whatever his reasoning, I know why I refused to acknowledge his presence. He was one of the people who didn’t help me when I needed help the most. Instead of being a leader, he let rumors and speculations dictate his behavior.

    I arranged this video several years ago. The lyrics reminded me of how I felt when another NCO told me that no one in our squadron believed that I had been raped. I never told any one in my squadron about the rape nor was I provided with an opportunity to explain what happened to me while I was deployed to Germany. How did my personal trauma become known throughout my section? Which of my past actions caused them to doubt an event they knew nothing about?

    I can never forget the betrayal and that is why I could not make ‘small talk’ with the man who lead my section. I forgive myself for trusting my fellow Airmen but I’m not willing or able to forgive them for turning their backs on me.

  • Ideas of Reference

    Getting ready for work, I felt my thoughts trying to take over me. All of the events and conversation from yesterday started to shift to form a picture different than reality.

    • I’m not safe.
    • They’re working against me.
    • I’m under surveillance (which is true with my employer).

    These are just some of the fleeting undertones which sped through my mind. My pulse quickened as I searched for other signs of danger.
    “Ideas of reference” is one of the hardest aftermath of the trauma I experienced in 2004. Although I’m now able to rationalize away the anxious thoughts, I wish this thought pattern would leave me. When a person looks at me, they can’t see my internal battle. I’m in a constant battle against my thoughts and the fear which lays just beneath the surface.
    I’m afraid of so many things but the main thing is that I will lose myself to my thoughts. I’m afraid that I will return to the altered reality which my mind created to survive my trauma. I’m afraid to lose myself.
    So as I get ready to face another day, I remind myself that I am not lost. I am safe. And no matter how many times I have to fight my thoughts, I am strong. I will continue to fight. I am not a victim. I am a SURVIVOR.

  • Resisting My Thoughts

    Today was a day full of self doubt as I fought against my thinking. How can I explain the lure of an imaginary world created to help me survive my traumatic experience while deployed? For me, there is a thin line between sanity and insanity. I fear this line more than anything. For me, finding my way back to reality was a two year struggle. The day I boarded the plane to leave Germany, my grasp on reality seemed to slip away in an instant. Betrayal. Mind games. Relentless harassment from my brothers and sisters in arms. Where did I go wrong? Why did they turn against me? Why did they pretend to be my ‘friends’ to my face; yet, call me a traitor behind my back? Why? The day I left Germany, I felt as though a part of me was dying. In order to survive, I created an imaginary world. In my imaginary world, I was safe and everyone I came into contact with was sent to help me. So many unreal beliefs helped me survive. I can never explain the comfort I found in my delusions. I can never explain that while my delusions were comforting, there was always so much fear beneath the surface.

    Over the past 14 years, the memories of my imaginary world fill my soul with shame. So many times, I wish I could explain to people who abandoned me after Germany. I wish I could explain that the person I became in order to survive wasn’t really me. Somewhere and somehow, I had become someone lost in delusions and paranoia. While there are individuals I wish I could apologize to, there are also those that I wish I could seek vengeance against. When I needed help the most, I found myself alone and pushed out of sight. Betrayal. Who knew it could cause so much anguish?

    Today, my thoughts were deafening. I had to fight off paranoia as “ideas of reference” tried to take over my thinking. While I love my job, I have experienced a great deal of harassment from management. I’m not the only employee who is constantly under the radar. In truth, we all are as drivers. However, there are certain individuals that management tries to “break” into bending the rules to make their unrealistic productivity goals. I am one of those individuals. The thing that management does not realize is that the harassment hits me a little differently. It triggers my PTSD. When my PTSD is triggered, I doubt myself. I often wonder if I am fighting the current situation or the inescapable memories of yesterday.

    While I found myself fighting my past today, I also recognize that I still possess the strength to challenge my thinking. It is because of my past that I am able to find the courage to stand up for myself. While I may not make their numbers, I am a good employee. While I maybe “slow,” I try to give my customers the best service possible. I don’t take shortcuts. There is a right and a wrong way to do my job, and I will always pick the right way. I will always put integrity first.

    Even though I felt myself stumble on my thoughts today, I pushed past it and made it through the day. So in many ways, I’m strangely grateful for my past.

  • Somethings Only God Can Forgive

    This song reminds me of how I felt when I returned from Germany. I was lost in a delusional world. I didn’t know how I would escape…but I did.

    “Am I dead?
    Or is this one of those dreams?
    Those horrible dreams that seem like they last forever.
    If I’m alive, why?
    Why?
    If there’s a God, or whatever, something, somewhere, why have I been abandoned by everyone and everything I’ve ever known, I’ve ever loved?
    Stranded.
    What is the lesson?
    What is the point?
    God give me a sign or I have to give up.
    I can’t do this anymore.
    Please just let me die.
    Being alive hurts too much.”

  • Be Alright

     

    “But it’s not the fact that you kissed him yesterday, it’s the feeling of betrayal that I just can’t seem to shake.” ~Dean Lewis

    When I heard this song, I was reminded of my own journey.  Two years ago today, my marriage ended.  While there were many signs that it was over, it was still incredibly difficult to walk away.  While our marriage wasn’t perfect, I truly believed in my vows and desperately wanted to make it work. While it would take several months to get the heartwrenching confirmation, I knew the truth: my ex-wife strayed from our marriage vows.  While I have moved on with my life, the hurt caused by the affair remains. As the lyrics state, “nothing heals the past like time and they can’t steal the love you’re born to find.”  This fact continues to help me push past the hurt. After all, “it’ll be alright.”

  • “In politics, what begins in fear usually ends in folly.” -Coleridge

    Over the past 20 months, I have continually wonder how the Republicans party stands behind Trump. Trump’s behavior is a constant source of embarrassment to the United States of America. The demeanor associated with the office of the President has been eradicated by Trump.

    There is no way to explain the heaviness I feel every day as I read the news. How could this man be elected to represent the virtues once associated with the President of the United States? What happened to our Country? In my opinion, it all boils down to fear and racism. It is easier to fear differences rather than educate oneself on different cultures and religions. It is easier to blame others for the shortcomings in one’s life. When did it become acceptable for a President to demoralize others based on gender, weight, intellect, and ability? Many Americans like Trump because “he’s not politically correct.” Is it politically correct to respect diversity? The words and actions of Trump only serve to further alienate minorities and our Allies. Trump’s utilization of fear incites hate crimes and further divides our Nation.

    I have tried to understand the devotion and admiration demonstrated by Trump supporters.  I tried to find a way to respect Trump as the Leader of our Nation. No matter how much I try, I just can’t do it.

     

  • Kudos ABC and ICM Partners

    After reading the news about ABC’s decision to cancel “Rosanne,” I hesitantly scrolled through my Facebook feed. Even though it’s somewhat expected, it still saddens me to see that there is outrage from some of my conservative friends about the cancellation.
    ABC and ICM Partners have ended their professional relationship with Barr in response to her tweet. Barr’s tweet is based on islamophobia and racism. Both constructs only serve to further divide humanity and are fueled by hatred, intolerance, and fear.
    Neither company is infringing on Barr’s freedom of speech; rather, their actions show that they are unwilling to condone islamophobia and racism.
    Americans are entitled to express their opinions/beliefs via social media. However, as with Barr, there are potential consequences when those values do not reflect those of their employer.
    Kudos to ABC and ICM Partners.
    “We have to turn it into a teaching moment.” ~Ms. Jarrett

     

  • So how do you get past it?

    So how do you get past it?

    Some people they stay in that pain forever, ’cause they don’t think anyone else will believe them or understand what they went through.

    You tell yourself,

    “I’m still here. And I’ll be here tomorrow and the day after. And it wasn’t my fault.”

    ‘Cause that’s the deal we make with the world every time we get out of bed in the morning.

    “Hurt me all you want, but the bastards don’t get to win!”

    ~Father Marcus, The Exorcist: The Next Chapter

     

  • July


    “You have too many anniversaries.” 

    I wish I didn’t have to fight the calendar and the memories associated with certain dates. I wish I had a delete button to erase the the trauma associated with the summer of 2004. I cannot forget.

    Many times, I just need to talk it out with someone. I remain quiet out of shame and fear. I’m ashamed that I haven’t been able to forget. I’m ashamed that I still feel the anger, confusion, and the pain. I’m ashamed that I still wonder what I did wrong. The question of “why” haunts me day and night.

    It is out of fear that I remain quiet as I try to hide my internal conflict. I’m afraid that I will be a burden by sharing my present struggle. I know I sound like a broken record.  The past plays over and over again. How can I expect anyone else to tolerate this repetitive dialogue?

     

  • RIP Chester

    "I pray you find peace in the next life.." ~Chester Bennington

  • Get Back Up!

    I’m up here
    I’m looking at the way down there
    I’m staring through the I don’t care
    It’s staring back at me

    The beauty is
    I’m learning how to face my beast
    Starting now to find some peace
    Set myself free

    Over the past three months, I have undergone many transitions. Transitions in life are stressful for most people. For me,  C-PTSD makes change extremely difficult to embrace.

    One of the ways I cope with stress is avoidance. With the distractions of work, it was very easy to put on a smile and hide behind a mask. Unfortunately, the distractions aren’t there when I’m on vacation. Reality has finally hit me.

    Sadness, regret, guilt, and self-doubt have pushed me into back into the grips of depression. I have felt enveloped by fear; essentially paralyzed for the past two weeks. HOWEVER…I will emerge. I’ve come too far to give up now. It’s time to “get back up!”

    I’m moving on
    Oh god just move on
    Today
    I don’t have to fall apart
    I don’t have to be afraid….
    Get back up
    Get up

     

  • The Silent Struggle

    I have felt an unexplainable amount of fatigue since the moment I opened my eyes this morning. 

    What’s the cause of this desire to hibernate and crawl into myself? I volunteered to take pictures at a social event tonight. 

    I love helping the community by donating my time to capture a moment in time. Still, the moments leading up to the actual event play havoc on my anxious mind as I fight the inevitable desire is to “SHUT DOWN.” Here are some of the questions which start to swirl around in my head:

    • What will I talk about? 
    • Will people be able to tell that I’m screaming in the inside? 
    • Will I say something to embarrass myself or someone else? 
    • Will my need to escape be evident? 
    • Will I be able to be in the present moment and simply enjoy myself? 
    • Why can’t I just be “normal?

    I can will myself not to give into my racing thoughts and try my best not to avoid social gatherings. I continually fight my desire to become a hermit. 

    So what is my point? 

    While social anxiety may not make sense to every one, it’s important to practice patience with those who struggle with it. We really don’t know the struggles/battles another person is facing. So instead of resisting it, we should embrace one another’s little quirks. When you see someone, remember to kind to them. Behind someone’s smile, there maybe a nervous soul desperately trying to fit in. 

  • Separation

    It’s almost been three months that we physically went our separate ways. I’ve been dealing with the knowledge that my marriage is over. While I knew in my heart that the end was near, I can’t express the sorrow that I’ve felt since the day we decided not to continue this journey together.

    When I met my wife, I was in finally comfortable with the knowledge that I might live the rest of my life as a single woman. I was not looking for love. I suppose that’s why it felt even more natural when we found ourselves lost in our emotions. It felt like I had finally found the woman of my dreams. It felt like despite all of my demons, this woman was madly and deeply in love with me.

    When we were joined hands to say our vows, my heart was filled with so much joy and happiness. The event I never believed would happen was happening. My family was there to celebrate our union. When I said forever, I believed that forever we would be our destiny.

    I cannot tell you when I started to feel the distance between us start to grow. I cannot tell you when I started to feel alone even when she was right next to me. I cannot tell you when I stopped seeing love in her eyes. Rather than love, I saw annoyance and a sort of pity. Even though she spoke of a future, it didn’t seem possible. The woman who once thought I completed her, didn’t seem to want to spend time with me.

    For over a year, I tried to express my sadness. I tried to get her to fight for the relationship. I tried to get her to miss my presence. I tried to recreate the passion that once flowed so strongly between us.

    Over the past few months, I have wondered why we did not make it. Was it my fault? Did I push her away? Did I try too hard to hold on? What could I have done differently? Why wasn’t my love enough?

    Some days, I realize that the best thing we did was let each other go. And yet, my heart still aches. I truly believed that no matter what life brought our way, we would face it together. I’m physically taking steps to move on with my life. Why cannot my heart catch up with my brain? Why do I feel like I’m missing a part of me?

    Perhaps, my heart just needs an explanation. If I knew what caused my marriage to fail, it wouldn’t be so difficult to let it go.

  • 20 Minutes of “action”

    Brock Turner was convicted on 3 felony charges of sexual assault on an unconscious woman. Yet his father and more importantly, Judge Aaron Persky do not feel that his actions merit the possible prison sentence of 14 years. Turner’s father has said his son should not have to go to prison for “20 minutes of action”. Judge Aaron Persky, said positive character references and a lack of a criminal record persuaded him to be more lenient. Judge Persky said, prison would have a “severe impact on him.” Turner, a convicted sexual offender, is only expected to serve 3 months of imprisonment. Yet the victim is sentenced to a life of mental imprisonment. I know the questions which will plague her FOREVER. I am a survivor of a rape which I also cannot remember. In April of 2003, I was raped by a fellow Airman  attending a military training in Knoxville, Tennessee. I will never know what happened to me. 

    I remember fighting to stay awake as he touched me and undressed me. In my head, I was screaming “no.” Why didn’t he stop?  Why was I just laying there? Why couldn’t I move? 

    I awakened to the sound of a shower. Where was I? Why was I naked? Who was in the shower?  I grabbed the stranger’s red t-shirt to cover myself as I fled the room. Panicked and afraid, I didn’t realize that the room was next to my own assigned dormitory room. Realization of where I was, revealed the stranger’s identity. The “stranger” was my classmate, a fellow member of the US Air Force, and someone I thought was my “friend.” His identity only confused me more. 

    In the safety of my own room, I removed the only protection I had: his red t-shirt. I will never forget the smell of it. It smelled like cigarettes and him. Disgusted. I threw it into the empty closet.  After shutting the closet doors, I laid down on my own bed and tried to shut off my racing mind. I couldn’t make sense of what happened. Why couldn’t I remember the minutes or hours before I woke up naked?  I immediately blamed myself for whatever happened. I told myself that I must have “asked for it.” I told myself to just forget it. No one would believe me if I reported it. Why? I went to the bar with my “friend” and bought the only drink I remember consuming that night. All had was questions and unaccountable lapses of time. 

    Unlike my “friend,” I didn’t have the energy to take a shower. I wasn’t able to wash away my memories. All I wanted to do was and forget the few details I could remember. Forgetting, unfortunately, is impossible. 

    The next morning, he approached me and asked, “Did I do something wrong?” Shame filled me. I didn’t know the answer. With my head down, I replied, “It’s just me.” Why didn’t I stand up for myself? Why didn’t I ask him why he took advantage of me? Why didn’t I say, “YES! You raped me!” 

    For the next 6 weeks, I slept in the room next to him. I saw him every day in class. At graduation, I had to sit next to him as we were sitted alphabetically. After graduation, he introduced me to his wife. I was embarrassed as she shook my hand. Why? I didn’t do anything wrong. 

    Later that night, I packed and prepared to return home. The last thing I emptied was the closet that contained his t-shirt. I’ll never understand why I felt the need to return it to him, but I did. As I left the dormitory for the last time, I hung it on his door. Perhaps it was my way of saying that we both knew what happened. My “friend” had raped me.  

    It would take 14 months for me to tell someone what happened to me. It took me 14 months to be able to admit that I had been raped. I never reported the incident formally out of fear. I was afraid that no one would believe me. At times I regret my decision to remain quiet. I let a rapist remain aynomous and unpunished. And then cases like the Stanford Sexual Assault Case  seem to only reinforce my decision.  I made the decision because I felt it was the only way to survive and be safe. It was my only way of regaining control of my life and ultimately my body. 

    Turner will never know what it feels like to have a part of your soul shattered. He will never understand that his victim will replay that evening over and over as she desperately attempts to make sense of it. He will never know how it feels to be completely empty. 

    Turner destroyed his own reputation and future. He was not confused. Turner deserves to have his life “severely impacted” for his “20 minutes of action.” 

    My hope for Turner’s victim is that only day she will see the truth. She is not a victim anymore. She is a SURVIVOR. The memories and questions will remain; this spiritual revelation  will reveal the tremendous amount of strength she possess. She is a fighter! I admire the courage and bravery needed to face her rapist. 

    Till It Happens To You