I finally figured out what has been bothering me the most since this Series of Unfortunate Events.
But, first some back story:
I have been traveling for work since October. I had a month long contract in October and nothing again until March. So, sometime in late February I decided that I wanted to do an obstacle course race called The Tough Mudder. My friend and I decided to sign up together. This was before I received the contract in March. I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to work out. Thankfully, when I made it to my March contract they had a gym right next to the hotel and we were able to work out there for free. I tried my best to go everyday and I tried my best to eat healthy. And for the most part I did. Thus, when I went to California for my April project I was already working out about 4 times a week and eating healthy. I was looking good and doing good and proud of it. I worked out consistently for two weeks before the first incident occurred. After that, everything went down hill. Then the last two weeks of the project, which included the last two incidences, I think I worked out maybe 3 or four times (in 14 days that’s not good when you’re training for a 10 miles 20+ obstacle course).
Okay, so back to present day-ish. A lot has occurred so some more back story:
Last Sunday, I told my friends what I have been dealing with these past two months. (I literally just looked at the calendar and it’s exactly two months to the day.(I began writing this on the 26th)) I finally let them in (see previous post). Immediately after I sent that message, one of the girls, Cree, called me crying and she was distraught that I was going through it alone. She said she had a feeling that something was going on and that she knew something happened in California, but she didn’t expect it to be this. Everyone said, that I shouldn’t be afraid to make my voice heard and also that they are here for me. These are all things I know, it’s just hard sometimes. But, I digress.
On Wednesday, I was feeling completely shitty. My friend, Jude who is in law school brought up the fact that she was sitting in on a rape case and I stupidly decided to look up the facts of the case and the victim was unconscious during the incident. And as unpopular as this opinion sounds, I considered her lucky because at least she’s not playing the details on constant replay in her mind. So, on Wednesday I asked my friend Jude (my outcry witness) if I was doing the right thing by not reporting it. I mentioned that I didn’t want to continue doing the wrong thing in a series of wrong events. We talked and basically spelled out that would actually come from it. It didn’t help that I got angry, not at her but the situation in general. I felt as if nothing actually mattered anymore and it was pointless to talk about it because it wasn’t going to change the situation. I also, told her that I have been drinking just to feel some type of emotion lately, and that I recently self-harmed. Long story short, she wanted to make sure that I am going to stop self-medicating, to which I responded yes, of course. But, I was frustrated that I realized that talking about it doesn’t help as much as I thought it would and I told her I didn’t want to talk anymore.
On Thursday, I woke up in a mood and stayed in that mood all day. I was just feeling off. I couldn’t explain it at the time, but I was essentially in a funk. Not even the upcoming trip (at the time) to Savannah was helping, in fact I wanted it cancelled and I was hoping the weather would play a part in that, it didn’t. Anyway, to try and get out of my funk, I went and got my nails done, all whilst a tornado warning was going on and funnel clouds were seen near my location. Fast forward to after work, I wanted to see if Cree was free. I wanted to be around people, but at the same time I wanted to be alone. So, when she told me she couldn’t meet up I was both saddened and relieved at the same time. She asked me later that night if I was okay and I said that I didn’t want to talk anymore. I think I worried her and hurt her feelings, but I honestly was in one of my funks and talking didn’t seem to be working. (Per Wednesday’s conversation I think I was just done and had given up.) Later that night she asked if I wanted to grab lunch on Friday. I agreed.
So, on Friday, I woke up and had to clean the house for the two people who were coming over to go to Savannah with me. I woke up crazy early and started cleaning. I then received and email for another contract. (I had an interview two days prior on Wednesday). So after I finished cleaning I had onboarding documents that I needed to fill out, which took longer than expected. So I was delayed. We were supposed to meet at 1:45pm, but because, of paperwork and traffic, I didn’t get there until 2:30pm. Stupid Atlanta traffic.
When I arrived, we were both hangry so we got food first and then ate and talked about randomness. It was nice. She asked me how I was feeling this morning as opposed to the night before and it was hard to explain into words why that day was just harder. We spoke for a while just going back and forth about why it wasn’t my fault, how it doesn’t define me, how I didn’t ’cause’ it, etc. And then it happened.
It finally hit me. Almost two months into it why I have been down on myself, why I have been having bad days, etc. Prior to the incidences I told you that I was working out and eating healthy. I was losing weight and gaining confidence. Essentially, I was happy.
I was SO happy.
I was finally on the right track to being the person I know I can be, healthy, fit, beautiful, with a job. And then just like that. Everything came crashing down. He took more than my virginity that day. He took my confidence, my trust, my hope, my motivation, my care, my will, my faith, my strength, he took me.
The second I said those words, “I was happy” tears began to flow. (the second time I have truly cried over this.) I cried because I realized that that was the case, I was happy before all of this happened and now I am not, I cried because I finally understood somewhat why I was in this funk, and I cried because honestly it just felt good. Cree was happy to see that I was letting myself show emotion over this. But, as quickly as the tears came, they went. I had to dry them up because I didn’t want to seem weak, I didn’t want to wallow. I wanted to be over what was making me feel this way. Now that I knew what was wrong, I wanted to get passed it.
Moral of the story:
I’m glad that I have started letting people in. I am glad that my friends know and I have someone to talk to on days where I just can’t deal with my thoughts anymore. I am truly blessed to have friends like that.
I am also glad that I figured out what has been bringing me down these past two months other than the actual incidents themselves. Because now that I know, I feel like I can start to move past this.
Remember, the five stages of grief I posted a while back? I guess I finally hit the depression stage. I was hoping to skip it.
My weekend in Savannah was good, because I didn’t feel the pressure to talk about it, even though one of the girls knew about it. At first, I was waiting for her to bring it up and then I realized she wasn’t going to and that was fine by me. I was able to enjoy the weekend and I didn’t even think about him once and I wasn’t sad once. I was happy. I was happy without feeling guilty about it at the same time (which has also been the case lately).
Now I know I can be happy again and that is just something that I need to work towards, because it is so doable. And I want to get back to where I once was.
I don’t want this to be a defining moment in my life. I want it to be just another Wednesday.