Not the march madness you’re thinking of. Not the basketball tournament.
The “madness” in my head.
The fear. The pain. The panic. The hurt. The silence. The violence. The memories.
It’s been 8 years.
I’ve healed. But every March since, I can feel it all again.
I have learned more about myself in those 8 years than I ever thought possible, and yet I still feel so small and weak. I know I'm not. I know I'm stronger than ever.
I know it wasn't my fault and I did everything I could to stop it. But, it wasn't enough.
And that is what haunts me.
I couldn't protect myself. Because of that, my worst fear is not being able to protect those I care about and love. So if I ask you to text me when you make it somewhere, or I ask if you’ve eaten anything, or if I ask how you are feeling, or what I can do to help if you’re feeling stressed, it’s because I couldn’t protect myself. So I protect those around me.
I was raped and physically abused. It ruined who I was and has shaped me into the woman I am today. I have PTSD and will now live with that for the rest of my life. It took me 7 years to tell my friends and family what happened. It took me 7.5 years to share it with the world, when I posted to this blog in August 2021.
And it is still hard to talk about. I never want anyone to experience what I did.
March is hard for me. I feel crazy and mad. You will see me smiling, but it isn't always genuine. I struggle with suppressing and embracing the emotions and memories. I lost myself in March 2014.
But in 2022, I continue to find myself and heal.
March will always be difficult. It will come and go. I’ve come this far. I will continue to thrive.