The Crime That Took My Life But Kept Me On Earth

The Crime That Took My Life But Kept Me On Earth

Yes, I was sexually assaulted. No, I wasn't asking for it.

Skin tight and exposed

I was the only one lingering in a man infested cave

I wondered innocently throughout the shop

The thought of a man watching me with impurity never crossed my mind.

I was clean.

Filth was all around me but I was clean.


I was sure that wasn't going to change, but I didn't have a choice.

Skin tight and exposed

I was the only girl lingering in the cold wet winter

Too happy to care.

After all, I had just turned 15 the day before.

Skin tight and exposed

That was my first mistake.

People might scold my feeling of guilt that still seems to creep up. To that, I say that all mistakes are unfortunate, and they can't be changed by others saying otherwise.

Skin tight and exposed

I stood and walked towards the bathroom without stopping

My second mistake.

But I was clean and that wasn't going to change

He put his hands on me anyway

He touched every inch of me

every inch of my body was being stripped of its innocence.

My ankles when I was dragged.

My wrists when they were gripped in his fingers and pressed against the ground.

It was the darkness

The darkness shielded me from the scene I couldn't bear to see and feel.

So I just felt.

I felt my shirt rip, my bra pulled down to reveal nothing but mere satisfaction to him he needed more. I felt my leggings at my thighs, my knees, then feet.

Making it all the more difficult to fight with my legs

My face was against his neck.

His tongue traveled to my mouth, my cheeks.

I wanted to know what he gained from this but all I could think of was what I was losing.

I had never felt such a surge of strength when I felt his hand going lower than anyone has ever touched me

I was free for what must have been 3 seconds.

The screech that came from soul and tired out my lungs held all my will in it, all my hope someone could hear me. All it took was his fist to my ribs and it was silenced.

The silence was so loud he stopped it with the sound of his belt unbuckling and him against me.

He was finally ripped off of me but I felt no relief.

I felt nothing

I was finished.

Skin and exposed

I had nothing left.

Skin and exposed

there was nothing else that could have been done to me to make me feel less attached to happiness.

I was convinced it was never going to be felt again

I can't remember the first thing I thought of

But I can guarantee it had something to do with how much I wanted to abandon this body

To rip off my skin and throw myself away with it.

How much I wanted to end myself and how nothing about myself mattered

This has defined me and my life

It determined everything.

He took it all with him

He took me all with him

And he left himself with me.

When something bad happens you can just avoid the memories the place, the people.

But the place was my body and the person was me.

I'm disgusting and dirty.

I can look at my stomach and think this is where he punched my screech away.

I can look at my neck and think this was where he fed off my sweet 15-year-old youth.

The memories are all over me.

This person was just a few weeks away from the hearing that will determine the punishment for the crime that took my life but kept me on earth.

What about my crime?

The one where I put myself on display with no care of what others could see without expecting them to do what they wanted.

I never paid for it, but I decided I had to

And I will.

But I think God has decided as well because my families lives seem to be hanging by a string and nothing seems to be going right.

I'm defenseless.

I'm hopeless.

And those are the words I think when someone asks me to describe myself and it will never change because I am defenselessness I am weakness

I am anything but good.
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How My Diabetes Taught Me That Worry Is Pointless

My life is in the hands of the Creator.

I am slowly running out of test strips.

Funny story about my prescription: It only ever refills once a month. So I'm attempting to make them stretch. Here's the problem with that one, though: I'm a paranoid diabetic.

My insulin dosage changed about a month ago. I was taking my long-lasting stuff right before I went to bed, so I was used to waking up in the middle of the night in the sixties or fifties. So, every time I woke up, I'd take my blood sugar, just to make sure. Since then, I've gone back to taking the long-lasting insulin in the morning, and my numbers have, overall, gotten better. I'm usually fairly solidly in the middle zone I need to be.

But I still check my blood sugar constantly.

See, the other day, I took a two-hour nap after one of my classes. I was at 204 when I went down (so not good, but also not really likely I'm going to slip low while I'm asleep). I woke up at 48. For those of you who aren't familiar with proper numbers for diabetes, that's really flipping low. In fact, I haven't been that low yet in the two years I've been diabetic.

Ever since I've been paranoid. I take my blood sugar every time I feel the slightest twinge of a weird feeling. It can be the exact opposite of what I remember being low feeling like. I'll still take it. While this isn't necessarily a bad idea, it's also kind of causing me to lose sleep at night and go through canisters of test strips at record speed when it's not necessary.

I felt like I was living on borrowed time.

After a few days of walking around feeling like maybe I wasn't supposed to wake up from that low and jumping at the slightest wind, convinced the nearest university vehicle was going to bowl me over in the next five seconds, I finally sat still and prayed.

God, I'm scared. I feel like I dodged a bullet. What if I wasn't supposed to dodge it? What am I supposed to do here?

And I felt this strange assurance: Rachel, I'm God. If you were meant to be home with me, you would be.

Some might call that threatening, but I call it relaxing. It means I can go day to day with the knowledge that the God of the universe holds my life in His hands, and as long as He still has something for me to accomplish on this earth, I'll be here. I can screw up daily, and He will still take me back and love me. He'll give me a second chance.

So, no, I haven't quite gotten to the point where I don't use my test strips generously. But I know there's a reason why I'm still here. And therefore, why should I worry? What should I fear?

Cover Image Credit: Pixabay

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When I Look At My Life Now, I Forget I Used To Be Suicidal

I used to want to kill myself over what people said. Now I am much stronger.

I was reading someone’s post celebrating how they haven’t self-harmed in years. I realized I haven’t self-harmed in years but I can’t remember the last time I celebrated it. It’s like I have almost completely forgotten that I used to be suicidal. I know it sounds awful, but I don’t know if I have blocked it out myself or if other people have done that for me.

Life used to be so hard and almost impossible. I remember crying myself to sleep every single night and wishing I was dead or that I was never born. I remember carving “worthless,” “crazy,” and “dramatic” into my legs because that was how everyone around me thought of me.

I remember being forced to go to therapy knowing what she was telling me would be pointless when my session was up and I had to go home. I remember trying to kill myself three times.

I still have scars, both visible and internal. I will never be able to love or trust anyone the way most people do. I will never be able to feel at home in my own house. I will never be able to get my childhood back. These open wounds will forever change my relationship with my family even if it’s just in my head.

But I don’t totally regret it. I reached the lowest point of my life as a child and now it can only get better. I am now so much stronger. I learned how to stand up for myself. I learned how to be who I am and not worry about what my family would think.

I was willing to kill myself over what people said to me and about me. I was trapped in my own body, in my own house, and in my own town and now I am free. I brush off what anyone thinks of me because it is my life, not theirs.

I left everything that was weighing me down and moved to a city where I didn't know anyone. This was everything I needed to forget that I was once suicidal. Now I am able to be myself and do what I love. I am surrounded by the greatest people who believe in me and push me to be a better version of my self every single day.

Life is so great and it seems like another person was suicidal, not me.

But it was me. I will have to work every day to overcome my depression and anxiety. But some days are better than others and so I am able to grow stronger and fight back harder.

Nothing that happens to me now could be as bad as what I faced growing up. So I laugh. I look my enemies in the face and laugh. Because they have no power.

National Suicide Prevention LifelineCall 1-800-273-8255

Cover Image Credit: Akash Desai

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