It’s been three weeks.
Three weeks since you took everything from me.
Three weeks of sleepless nights.
Three weeks since I was raped.
It still never gets easy saying that word. Speaking aloud the horror of that night. It took me a few days to even admit what really happened. Shock, fear, anger, and blame overcame me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what even happened.
What shouldn’t have happened.
You took what wasn’t yours to have that night. You took my worth, body, ability to fight for myself, and my joy.
All gone in minutes.
Instead, you replaced those things with fear, insecurity, bitterness, sadness, and lack of self-worth.
I can’t even look at myself without being reminded of that night. Without asking myself, “What could I have done differently?” What I wasn’t prepared for was all the blame I would put on myself, from the one thing YOU did.
But there is something you didn’t take that night.
Something that I am clinging so hard to in my hardest and saddest of moments.
That one thing is HOPE.
Hope that it will be okay. Hope that one day, that night won’t be at the forefront of every thought. Hope that I could look in the mirror and see me for me and not the shame that covers me from that night.
More than anything, I have hope in God. Hope that this terrible event will have a purpose. The pain and grief would not be wasted. That in time, God would provide courage. Courage to be a voice for other women that are survivors of rape.
I may have days that I can’t find the courage to go to work or even get out of bed. I may find myself drowning in the shame that has consumed me from that night.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
But I will overcome this. I will remain hopeful. I will fight this.
You may have taken a lot from me that night, but this you will never have. To other girls that are fighters, I pray that although you may have lost a lot- you never let go of that HOPE.