In the start of my writing career here at The Odyssey the first article I wrote was about my experience with sexual assault. It was a pretty simple article, but now looking back on it I found myself becoming increasingly disappointed of it. It was an okay article, and I know that back then my main point was to simply talk about my experiences, and shine some light on the effects. It seemed, in that time, like a good idea, and I have no regrets about the article itself, but I do regret the sappy and somewhat n message I put at the end stating that you can overcome sexual assault, it shouldn’t have an effect on your life, and in these moments you should be able to see the blessings in your life, and try to smile. Over the course of this year I learned that all the stuff I spewed was a utter crap, and so I want to make this article to explain the truth about how sexual assault affects victims, and the dark side that you don’t hear much about.

I drank a lot during those first couple weeks, and until now I really hadn’t told anyone. It wasn’t me drinking heavily in my dorm, but it was me going home from college, and always wanting to drink. I went to parties, and always needed an excuse to go out. Now, I’m not really that big on drinking, but I did it a lot during that time. I felt as if I just needed to continue to remain in my state of denial. Drinking kept me from seeing the truth that was in front of me, and even now from time to time I still drink. Of course, it’s not as bad, because therapy and anti-depressants remind me that drinking is an irrational behavior, but I still sometimes wish to forget deep down. Sexual assault haunts the victim, and for me in the deepest parts of the night it creates the feeling of emptiness that looms, and creeps up during my saddest points. It heightens my anxiety to the point where some days I feel as if I can’t even move, or even speak. Drinking became a crutch that I used in order to feel that something inside of me wasn’t as broken as I thought it was. I felt for one night I could escape, but in the morning of course I was left with a crushing headache, and a realization that I couldn’t really deny it any longer. That’s not to say I didn’t try a couple more times, but I soon realized that I was not only wasting money, but I was hurting myself even more. I stopped drinking eventually, but there’s always that feeling of emptiness that creeps up sometimes, and I’m pretty sure that’s never gonna go.

I got angry a lot, and that was the first time in my life when I truly experienced rage. I always felt anger when I failed a test, or unfairly got detention that one time (I’m still not completely over that even though it’s been 6 years), but it would quickly fade, and I realized that anger was not something that I liked to feel. It felt like one of those emotions that I didn’t really need to express, because in my mind there was never any reason to be truly angry. Now, after a couple of months I felt anger rising, and I thought that it would go away like it always has, but it wouldn’t. It bubbled up in my mind, and it would blossom in my body, and I’d spend hours in my dorm just fuming, or I’d get into the dumbest arguments fueled by a rage that wouldn’t quit. Now, another method I did was I took out the anger on myself, and I’ve realized over the years that I do have a pattern of taking out my anger on my body, mind, or just whole self in general. The drinking, the pills, the scalding hot showers that burned a little too much. That was me expressing anger, and me trying to compute an emotion that I had never felt before. I, obviously, was handling it wrong, but at that time I was just trying to make myself feel something, because I had moved past denial, and onto acceptance, but an angry acceptance. I cursed the boy who had hurt me, and I cursed myself for not being strong, and not being able to accept it, and move on. So anger clouded my system, and during that time I became irrational in the decisions I made, and I truly do regret all I’d put my body through during that time.

Looking back, I think the one thing that stays and stings like a permanent scar is the feeling of insecurity and shame. I worry that everyone I meet, and everyone I know will automatically know that I am a victim of sexual assault. I felt as if I am not a person with emotions, feelings, or even thoughts, but just a body that’s been wrung of all human emotions. Of course, rationally I know this is not true, but a part of me feels that it is. That I am still a body, and I haven’t gained all the pieces that make me who I am back. That’s one thing that I know is long-term the feeling of being void, and that’s something that not even my therapist can help me with. It’s a journey that I know I’ll have to go on alone, and I have faith in myself that I’ll eventually make my way to that point where I become all that I was, and truly love myself scars and all.

Now, this was a pretty depressing piece, and I don’t want you guys who read this to think that I’m not getting better. I am, of course, but I just wanted to share the true feelings and emotions that I left out of the paper. I’m not as strong, or able to heal as I typed in the previous paper. I still am going through struggles, situations, and even my relapses, but each day I know that I’m getting to the middle point, and that’s not the place of complete happiness, but a simple place of feeling content, and for me that’s where I need to be right now. A place where I can see the world with understanding, and yet heal at my own place. Content is good, because it’s almost like home, and almost is close to enough.