This loss has triggered something in me.
Trauma that I thought was at bay has started to haunt me. I worked so hard I thought I was in charge now. How wrong I was.
Again when I close my eyes the flashbacks begin. This time more detailed, so graphic I feel sick. So I can’t sleep, I can’t be still, I can barely leave the house.
Trauma was no stranger to me but this event was the ending of me. The me I knew.
My trust in people had been tryed and tested many a time but I always felt everyone deserved their own chance, even though it didn’t always end well. Not that I was stupid, still very aware towards people and about myself. A talent that had become second nature due to past events. Also however a talent I realised you never truly master as long as you can keep your faith in humanity. You just have to become smarter. Much smarter.
So maybe I had a moment of stupidity and put my trust in a situation where I shouldn’t have. Maybe I’m human and made a bad judgement call. Maybe I had little to no choice in that situation. Maybe what happened was the lesser of two evils.
The people who know the story, what I have choosen to share (gory details can stay with me) tell me how lucky I am that I got out. That they always are so grateful I got out alive.
But the aftermath, the authorities, the emotional turmoil, the regression on my mental health, the physical sickness, the lack to no sleep, the change in my lifestyle, work, sometimes I wonder is this better?
Not that I wanted apart of me stolen and gotten rid of like a meaningless object. I often think of that and scare the shit out of myself because it could have went that way easily. I was attacked but I survived, I thought, I planned, I fought, I ran. But I still feel like I was used and disposed of like an object. Still alive but still meaningless.
I got no justice. I never will . Not with this. I am to blame regarding some of the reasons why. After hours of appalling police work, handling of the situation and treatment of a teenager. I just wanted home, I was working away at the time. I was a teenager no more. I had worries I never thought I would have, had to do tests I never thought would be in my life. I was free no more. I felt like I couldn’t fight another day.
We are not believed. We are quizzed as If we are the attackers. We are ridiculed. We are “liars”, “attention seekers, “sluts” and so much more.
We do not need your judgmental looks, questions and rumors. We need support.
You do not know our stories. Each one different. Each one carrying trauma that will never leave you. Each one wondering when you will feel like you again.