Rape Survivor: My experience, and journey of healing

            Today I was tagged in a post on Facebook that contained an article. My friend said she would love to hear what I had to say about this idiot. So I decided to take on her challenge, and I looked at the title, which read “Meet Brother Dean Saxton, Who Believes Women Are To Blame For Their Own Rape”. At first glance, I was a little shocked, but I reacted differently as I read on than I thought I would, or even differently than other people thought I would as well. I was not mad, I laughed. Who could honestly think this? I did not even want to give this guy the satisfaction of watching the video about him contained within the article, because I do not feel like he was even worth my time. So I only read the article. This person seems to believe that women are to blame for their rape, because of how they dress. Women are apparently asking to be raped left and right. Well I would like to say something about this to you Dean, and anyone else dumb enough to believe his rants, this

Sometimes I get discouraged. When I look back at who I used to be, I know I am not the same. I know I will never be the same. My anxiety will get the best of me every now and again. I will have flashbacks when I feel threatened by a man. I will be overly observant when I am out and about. I will be less forgiving, and I won’t trust anyone right off the bat. I struggle to find the ‘good’ in people when all I see is ‘bad’. When someone betrays me, I almost can’t get over it. Every effort to trust or forgive someone that hurts me now is almost impossible. Sometimes, I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. I used to be so much more positive, naturally happier, so much more loving. That person is gone. If I want to keep my sanity, I have to try to always stay positive. I have to push out my anxiety-prone thoughts. I have to make such a great effort to be happy, and see the good in people and myself. I get pissed so easily now it’s like the flip of a switch. I have to control th

Right after I was raped, I struggled with every day things. I was going to a community college close to where I lived, and there was some time where I didn’t go to my classes, or do any of my homework. I literally could not handle menial day to day things.  There was a few times where I called my mom to pick me up in the middle of my class because something triggered a flashback, and I had a breakdown.  I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t eat. I felt empty, broken. My chest was an abyss of complete and utter pain and heartache, and nothing I did filled the void. Nothing I did seemed to matter. I felt like all of my actions were worthless, and every move I made was pointless. It was the most numbing, miserable, unbearable time of my life. Since I was in denial for so long, and had such a hard time coping with the reality that I was raped, it took longer for me to start recovering and healing. It took me almost 3 years before I hit rock bottom, and realized I needed some serious help. So