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Regrets and Recovery

I was sexually abused from the time that I was a toddler until I was strong enough to find my voice as a teenager.

I have never regretted telling. I never regretted my anger or decision to leave my childhood home. As an adult I don’t regret walking away from my toxic relationship with my grandmother the only mother I’ve known. She felt as if the Bible and my willingness to accept her truth should have been enough to soothe my pain, scab up the old wounds and finally heal. She was a trigger, dredging up all of that old anger, all of those old feelings of worthlessness.

My biggest regret from the past is not getting the mental health treatment I needed. It was court ordered that I see a psychiatrist. I went to a couple of sessions and fought to get out of it. My guardian ad litem relented and spoke to the judge for me.

I was too strong for all of that nonsense. I had kept my secret without breaking for years. I told, testified, and it was over as far as I was concerned. So I stopped talking about the bullshit. I stopped acting like I needed help. My biggest concern was breaking the chains of being restricted and sheltered. I just wanted to be a “normal” teenager. I convinced myself that I was okay. I never wanted to talk about the abuse again.

Twenty-one years later I am the victim of sexual assault again. I am forced to think about my past, forced to face those demons once and for all.

Thankfully I have no memory of the actual assault. I can’t play the nightmarish experience over and over in my mind. I do however remember my severe depression and fighting the urge to commit suicide. All signs point to me being in a manic state leading up to the assault. I’ve learned that my ability to suppress and my superb acting skills are not that great.

I spent 6 days in the hospital for my troubles. I coped for the whole week I hospitalized, never breaking down. I told my story over and over finding comfort in my lack of memory. All I wanted to do was leave the confines of the hospital and forget about the whole horrific weekend.

I wasn’t fooling anyone this time around. My doctors pointedly asked me what my game plan was. I gazed out of the window. I wanted out. I felt like I could not breathe but at the same time I was afraid. I looked down at the folder of mental health resources they had given me. Of course I could tell the doctors what they wanted to hear, anything to leave the stuffy psych ward. But I know I’m not okay this time around. I honestly regret not working through my past to give me the strength to endure this new heartache.

I was sexually assaulted in my home on July 3rd, 2015. I spent 6 days in the hospital for my own safety. My road to recovery has just begun for old and new pain. I am using the mental health resources provided, being med compliant, and for once leaning on my friends and family for support.

I have my regrets about the past and fears about my future but in a way I finally feel free.

 

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2 thoughts on “Regrets and Recovery

  1. Pingback: Goodbye to 2015 (and good riddance) | She Writes

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