I am a different person, completely. There is no question about it. The past year has changed the way I view myself and the world so many times and in so many ways. Let's start from the beginning... Or, the beginning of the chaos.
When I was in middle school my depression began. I felt lost and uneased. I expected to feel free, and it was admittedly nice to be in a school where I was not made fun of for doing my best and being intelligent, but I still did not quite fit in. I kept a smile on my face and fine tuned my sense of humor to keep others laughing, even when I was ready to vomit with anxiety. I was afraid of being rejected so much that I often spent days with stomach aches because a word with a mildly negative connotation was spoken toward me. I engaged in self-mutilation and suicide attempts, which I kept secret. Looking back, I think I was liked. I still have friends from that time and people still find me on Facebook to catch up.
In high school, I was so content. I was confident because I had friends who loved me and I actually fit in. Most of my friends were in another school, but I spent a lot of time with them on weekends. We had fun, shared the same sense of fun and humor. I had my moments of insecurities, but I had a second family, the family of a guy I loved. We were together for nearly 3 years and even though we fought sometimes and disagreed on some things, we were good together. When we broke up my right before Senior year, I thought I would never love someone again. I was sure of it from the utter, heart-wrenching devastation I felt (in fact, I didn't get over that feeling until over 3 years later). All my friends moved away for college, and I felt lost and alone. That's when I made friends with a few guys who made me feel loved, at ease, good. We had fun and I could be myself-- silly things like candle-light Dominos dinner. My Senior year was wonderful.
College... well, starting college was hard. I nearly lost a boyfriend to suicide. I played the part of his parent, his teacher, his friend, his girlfriend... it became too much for me to handle, and when I received a suicide letter, I felt my heart ripped out of my chest and lay broken on the floor until I heard news of his survival. I wondered if I did the right thing, if I was being punished for pursuing what I felt God had led me to do. Maybe I was wrong and I wasn't in the right place. As my college years went on, I continued in my faith and I grew out of my anger. I had many epiphanies and grew greatly. I was confident in my skills and believed in a future. It wasn't easy, having 3 jobs, being in a leadership position, and going to school full-time.
It wasn't until college came to a close that my life spiraled completely out of control. As much of a mess as I thought I was before, I was still pretty far from the bottom. I got into a relationship where I thought I met the perfect man. He was younger than me, which was surprisingly new for me. Perfect date. Perfect body. Perfect intelligence. Christian, but down to Earth. I lost my virginity, what I always held so, so close to my heart. I instantly felt horrified and cried on his bathroom floor for a good hour. Then I just decided to stand by him, fight for us. Maybe he would be my husband one day. Sex can just be for him. Then he left me after only a couple months because I was emotionally unstable. Found out I had a miscarriage and bled for 22 days straight, nearly needing a blood transfusion. I survived it. I moved on. Got into a relationship with a man 11 years my elder. He had a good mind, we agreed on some big ideas. We dated and had sex. I decided sex was just for someone I loved. For a year. As time went on, I felt very emotionally abused. Everything I did was wrong. My feelings were unjustified. I felt too much or not enough. I was limited in the amount of time I could spend with my friends. They didn't like him and he didn't like them. He didn't want company. He didn't like me traveling without him. I was trapped. I was convinced nobody would love me better so I stayed. We moved to a city where I did not know a soul. Started a new life. Got more miserable. Cheated on him with a person who ended up using me for nothing more than sex. When I finally left, he threw my stuff outside and I had to live with a coworker til I could get my own place. I was diagnosed as bipolar. Ended up with FWBs and temporary boyfriends. My sex partners went from 2 to 12 in six months. I tried to make it mean something, but most of the time it didn't. I wanted to enjoy sex while I could before my disease took that away along with the prospect of childbearing. My last relationship was just me being used by a man-- for my honesty, my trust, my money. my affection.
I was miserable. Lost. Alone. Afraid. Hopeless.
I hit rock bottom one night when I was on my ass drunk. I was with a guy I'd spent time with many times, hung out with and knew he cared about me. I never would have dated him, but we had fun. We usually stayed at my house but this night I went to his house under the condition of no pot and no strangers because I didn't like who he was with his friends. Once I was already under the influence, people I didn't know came over. I had a severe asthma attack and felt like I was dying in the bathroom. They put me in a warm shower to help clear my airways and took off my clothes. Eventually, I ended up laying on the bed, too drunk to move but still aware of my body. Everybody had left but my friend and a random person who had joined the group. I heard the guys talking, basically the black guy asking how much to have sex with me and the guy I knew considering it before saying he wanted me for himself. Unfortunately, the guy I knew was so high and drunk that he became almost completely unaware of himself or what he was saying/doing. The new guy pushed his limits, from sexual assault to rape within minutes. I didn't move because I knew I couldn't fight him off-- I was too drunk. I waited for the guy I knew to say something, to kick him out, to fight with him. Something. Anything. But he didn't. When the black guy finally left, I got up and screamed at the guy I knew. I threw stuff. I was angry. I asked him how he dare let somebody do that to me, how he could not defend me. He didn't believe me. Called me names. Said I was a liar. I tried to find my keys and my phone to get away, to leave. I couldn't. So I ran naked down to a neighbor who called the police.
I was at the end of my rope, utterly and completely broken. My life felt over. My body fought my mind through suicidal thoughts. I fought anxiety, didn't want to leave the house. Didn't want to see people again. My family and friends took care of me, doted over me, loved me, hugged me-- were more incredibly compassionate than I ever knew.
It was my family and my friends who kept me here and got me through it. I ended up shortly after meeting a man. I was falling for him quick, and I felt guilty and weird that I was. I felt like my life should be over, that I shouldn't be surviving this drop to the bottom so quickly. Shouldn't I be lost longer? Why am I not dying of shame and anger and resentment?
I realized that I would never have been in that position if I hadn't drank. I would have left when things started feeling wrong. I would have been able to leave without being intoxicated. I would have been able to think straight and find my keys. I would have been able to fight back. There were so many places in the night that things could have been completely different. So I had found a way to move on. I found a solution, something to blame, so to speak. I don't have to be scared anymore because I won't be in that position again. Then, I realized that, even though in part of my mind and in the mind of everybody who knew of my rape it was way soon, I felt completely in love. This man and I shared the same ideals, political views, parental views. We'd had similar histories with our past relationships. We both always had to be mature for our age. We had the same love language, relationship style. He was incredible intelligent and talented. He was an awesome father of a sweet 6-year-old who soon adored me. He was cute and sweet. He was perfect. He was my boyfriend and I was head over heels in love with Christopher Bird.
We are now engaged with a wedding date set and a venue booked. In only 5 months, I went from rock bottom to my highest high. I have a family. My parents love him and have realized how incredible he is and how he makes me feel. It's quick, I know. But within a week of knowing him, my heart took a leap and I knew he was the one God sent to help heal my brokenness. He is the greatest support. He adores me and I am the best me when I am with him. He makes me want to be a better person, a stronger person, a stable person. The dream I always had of being with someone who made me feel completely comfortable being myself and having a child and a home and a life together-- it was finally true. In my spiral, I had given up on that dream. Now, I am living it. And it is so blessed. And it is so good.
So to those who are judging me for jumping into an engagement too quickly, I want you to know that I understand where you are coming from. If I was looking at someone doing the same thing, I might very well want to tell them the same things you're telling me.
But with my life, with my past and the path I stumbled down... finally being happy and being me without shame after feeling the ultimate shame... I will take this chance. I will be in love and I will build my life. And I will be proud. I will use my past as my strength. I will put every ounce of my being into being the best person I can. Please do not put a timeline or limits to when I can become who I am meant to be just because you don't understand it.
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