I’m sitting in front of my laptop late at night. Again.
It’s almost exactly seven months after I was sitting in nearly the same position, writing a personal piece about a time in my life that I don’t ever want to relive.
But, as they say, time heals all and I finally feel ready to revisit some things that happened and perhaps even discover things I had missed before.
Before I start, let me give you a quick recap. Seven months ago, I was raped by someone I thought I knew. As a way of trying to come to terms with what had happened, I wrote a post about it and it got published anonymously. This little act allowed me to start the road to recovery.
I’m still a far way from the finish line. Seriously, really far away.
But the most amazing thing happened over the last six months. I found love.
Now, I’m not referring to the type of love that includes little more than “baby”s and “let’s get naked”s. Sure, that makes out a fair portion of the larger picture. But what I’m referring to is true, deep, insane, inspiring, driving love.
It’s the kind of love that allows you to wake up next to each other and discovering that this person is your other half.
It’s the love that waited for months until I felt ready to have sex — realizing that I needed time to deal with things and not pushing me for something I wasn’t ready for.
It’s the love that has endured insane stress — especially when you consider that it had to face challenges that would send even old couples running.
It’s the love that makes you smile when you hear a slipped fart in the middle of the night. The love that makes you gently stroke his cheek when his snoring gets out of hand.
It’s the love that goes beyond anything I have ever experienced.
The point that I’m trying to make is this:
Don’t compromise on what you want or need. In even the most adverse circumstances lies the opportunity for fate to step in. Don’t lose hope when things don’t go according to plan — fuck the plan. The plan is something you needed when you wanted a rough guideline. Life doesn’t play by those same guidelines.
I was raped. That’s something that will always be at the back of my head. But it’s not going to keep me from joking or laughing at jokes. Because denying myself that pleasure is giving the bad guy the power.
I won’t allow my rape to keep me from having an amazing, ridiculous, brilliant sex life with my boyfriend. I won’t allow it to keep me up at night with bad flashes.
I won’t let it come in between me and my future. In fact, I’ll embrace it and utilize it and become the best damned psychologist out there.
I’m studying to become a forensic psychologist. Not because the rape changed how I function, but because it has instilled in me a curiosity to understand how these people’s minds function.
I won’t blame the rape for my subsequent depression.
I’ll acknowledge that the rape was a turning point. But it wasn’t the only bad thing to happen.
I’ll take away its power by realizing that it was a bad thing that happened. And I’ll remember that bad things have happened to me before and they’ll happen again.
All there is to do is to embrace the blessings that I have been given — to love completely and utterly and stupidly, to strive for only the best, to see the past as a learning experience and a building block, to fight through the tough days filled with tears and sleep, to keep smiling and dreaming and working and hoping.
A mindset really is the only thing that separates being a victim from being a survivor.
I, for one, am choosing the second option.