2017, pretty much a big fuck you but with a cherry on top. A very big sweet red cherry on top.
The highlights; I failed nursing school, I got back in, passed my third semester and made it to my final semester but not before the worst and best summer of my life.
The summer of 2017, started out amazing. I was ready to study for school, I had friends, new friends, I had purpose. Then I was all alone. Everyone fell off the face of the earth. I couldn’t study. I was all alone, all the time.
I learned a lot in my loneliness. I learned to take care of my myself. Become healthy. Even lost 20 lbs.
I got back into my art, in any creative outlet I could. Writing, photography, drawing, making jewelry.
I learned how to cope. Cope in a healthy way. Listening to music again, art, going to the river. I learned to be alone and be okay with it. I started to enjoy myself, my company. I have never done that.
I decided it was time to meet people, specifically start a relationship, and maybe make some friends. I set out on a few dating websites. I went out on a few meets.
But, the second to last one… July 30th… I’ll never forget. I made 17 cigarettes for that night. It’s funny the things you remember. That night, I was raped.
I didn’t think of it walking back to the car. Not until I started the car and an overwhelming urge to vomit came over me. The next weeks were hell. I was late. My period was late.
But for some reason, I kept talking to another guy I had given my number to. I remember the day after it happened, he texted me for the first time. I was skittish and I was not really into it but over the next few weeks he was persistent.
I eventually told him what happened. I hadn’t told anyone. Not even my mom. I trusted him. There was something about him. He had been touched by the darkness too. I just knew.
I finally got my period, day 40 of my cycle. A week before I had told my mom. She urged me to go to the police but in the past when I went to them about my past, they never believed me, there was no justice. So, you understand why I didn’t trust them.
Time went on, I was numb, depressed, drinking. I barely left my room, the chair in the corner by the window. Where I sat and smoked. But he was there to talk. He was the only person I spoke to.
I didn’t withdraw from school, I thought going would help. I tried to study before the semester but I couldn’t and my mother was not helpful. Always on me about studying.
In August, that guy and I got closer. He asked me to be his on the 15th. He knew I was fucked up, he knew I was not interested in anything sexual but he wanted me. All of me. So I said yes.
I was in a downward spiral. Looking for anything to help. I met him, he made me feel safe. In control.
School started but we made it work. He lived over an hour up north. He would come once a week and get a hotel room. School got bad, my home life got worse. I was drowning. It was worse than the summer.
I decided to leave my last semester at school. I just couldn’t. The PTSD had set in. My moms abuse was too much.
I had finally had enough. I left. At 28, I left. I stood up for myself and left. He saved me. I packed all my stuff up in my car and his. He took me home.
Then I went back. I thought it would be different but it wasn’t.
Days later, he saved me again and I never went back.
I don’t know what I would have done if I had never met him.
It’s 2018, now. Life is hard. I’m just learning to be an adult and I still take baby steps. I still ask for help with everything. Being under my mothers thumb, feeling feeble for so long, has damaged me good but I got this.
I guess what I’m saying is, it’s never too late. Follow your heart. Follow your dreams.