You never think it will happen to you..and you will never fully understand the effects until it happens to you.

A friend once said to me, “Your life is so fun and crazy, you should write a book or something about it.” There is a time period in my life where I can remember thinking the same thing; I was a social butterfly who enjoyed going out on weekends and meeting new people. I thought of myself as strong and invincible..no matter how risky the things I indulged in were or how bad the situation was, I always seemed to pull my way out of them and be able to laugh it off. I recognize my past behaviors as part of the reason why I was susceptible to experiencing trauma, but I know that what happened to me should not have happened.

I did what most freshmen in college do: drink shitty vodka, go out to ~fun~ college parties, and dance their ass off. I always made sure that I was with good friends that I trusted whenever I went out and made sure that I stuck with them the entire night. Plain and simple, I did everything you are supposed to do when you go out drinking..but it wasn’t enough to protect me from someone who I considered to be one of my closest friends at the time.

My rapists names are Alex Thong and Kevin Marro. They are both from the same area that I am from and I knew them both for about ten months before they violated me. Although I was not close with Kevin, I considered Alex to be one of my closest friends at the time. Alex and I would hang out often, though it usually revolved around alcohol or smoking. What angers me the most is that it makes so much sense as to how it happened considering what type of person Alex is; I knew he had feelings for me at the time and though I conveyed that I wanted to just be friends with him, he would still take advantage of me whenever I was drunk by kissing and touching me. Even though it is undeniably a flaw in his character, I commonly put the blame on myself for getting too drunk. I would tell myself, “I need to stop getting so drunk so Alex won’t kiss me and so I can remember what is going on.” When I look back on how I used to think, it makes me want to cry and puke at the same time; how could I ever do this to myself? And why did I ever think it was okay? I put a lot of blame on myself for how I used to handle situations. I know that I cannot change the past and I am happy that I no longer put up with anyone’s bullshit, but it still haunts me to think that I could have prevented my rape from happening by cutting them off while these things were happening.

My rape happened my freshman year of college on September 30, 2016. I was at a house party on Temple’s campus and to be honest, I don’t remember much because of blacking out. Everything that I know about my rape is from the very detailed texts that Alex sent me the morning after…along with the pictures he sent of me being raped being burned into my mind. I still have every text and picture on my phone as evidence for a case that I feel will never be presented in court. I went through detectives giving evidence, getting evaluated by a rape nurse and tested for STDs+pregnancy, and tried to go to counseling..but at the time, the last thing I wanted to do was keep repeating my story and being reminded of what happened. It was too much to process all at once and I was still adapting to the workload of my first year of nursing school.

It is now over two years since my rape and I am finally done with putting it to the side. I tried to move forward without processing the emotions associated with my trauma, but bottling these emotions rather than handling them has done nothing for me but induce crippling anxiety and depression. I am tired of hiding what has happened to me and why I am the way I am. My personal experiences form the foundation of the development of my anxiety and I hope to provide comfort to others who are going through similar hardships.

Future Posts

I aim to write at least 2 blog posts/week, ranging from topics such as past experiences that I have buried but want to discuss, how my anxiety currently affects my daily life, and coping mechanisms that I have/am trying; I find blogging as more therapeutic than journaling because I want to be able to share my experiences with others that may relate to what I am going through. I am tired of feeling like I am hiding and ashamed of who I am due to being raped; this is my initiative towards rebuilding what is now broken and becoming a stronger woman.