People always asked me why I decided to come to Georgia Southern, and I always have to come up with a reason besides the one that actually brought me here. Now, that I’m finally about to graduate in May after being riddled with tons of obstacles, I’m doing what I said I’d always do, and that’s to tell my story.
I started college at a university in Florida when I was 17 years old, and I was NOT ready to start that soon. I wasn’t an extremely popular person in high school. I wasn’t a beauty queen either, but I was a tough kid and no one messed with me. All of my life I lived on a pedestal of having to be a perfect child, because intellect wasn’t exactly the forte of my older siblings. I was an A/B honor student and I had a great spoiled life. I wasn’t the best child, though, whenever my strict mom turned her back I got into tons of trouble. Sneaking out, doing drugs, and partying, that was me; so when I started college it was like giving a 10-year-old boy a box of matches and telling him to go crazy.
I had some really bad insecurity issues. I never felt pretty so, I would do anything for male attention: walking around half naked, hanging out in guy’s dorms, partying all night, and sleeping through class. Yup, that was me. I wanted so badly to be popular and to have the male attention I’d never gotten in high school. Popularity cost me my full ride to college and nearly took my life on multiple occasions. A woman with low-esteem is like putting a bomb in someone’s hand and waiting for it to detonate at random. She’s going to hurt others and herself.
My low self-esteem got me into a ton of trouble with guys and put me in dysfunctional and abusive relationships. The most prominently dysfunctional was with this guy named James. James was 6 years older than me. I met him drunk and high off codeine, and so let’s just say, I wasn’t in the best place to pick a mate. James was 8 months of a dating a complete monster. Sometimes he wouldn’t let me leave his apartment for days or even weeks, and I would endure hours of creepy, and unspeakable acts. Being 18 at the time, I didn’t even know you could be raped in a relationship. I thought rape was only from complete strangers that forced themselves onto you. That’s how completely naïve I was (sadly most of society still is), until I had a roommate that was 25 at the time, enlighten me, and thanks to her, I was able to get away from him.
People always say, “that they would never put themselves in those kinds of relationships or they don’t know how women can go through that. ” Easy, when you aren’t right within, how can you know what right or normal is? It was normal for me to be verbally, sexually, and physically abused one day and then “wined and dined,” and showered with expensive gifts the next. I knew I didn’t like what was happening, but when your life is being threatened and you’re so young it’s a scary situation. Sure, I could’ve gone to the cops but what was I supposed to do? Throw a piece of paper at 6’6, 250 – 300 lbs man, and wait for the cops to come? I couldn’t tell my family; they were all depending one me to be the first to graduate, they lived hours away, and I didn’t want to disappoint them.
After being with James, my self-esteem was way lower than it was initially. I always thought having sex with guys was just something to make them happy. You just do it and they’ll leave you alone or they’ll respect you more but no, that wasn’t at all true. I would only have sex drunk because that was the only way I could even bring myself to do it. After James, that mentality got way worse. I was so confused and so lost; I honestly had no idea what sex or love even was. I thought the worst of everything was over. Until I started working at Hooters and met this girl named Sam.
Sam was a sweet girl. We’d hung out a bunch of times and I considered her a friend. Sam was having problems with her family, and so I told her she could stay at my apartment for a while. We went out one night before my Sociology final in the summer, and that night I went out I didn’t come back the same way the next morning. To make a long story very short, I woke up there were condoms all over the floor, I had a raging headache, my money and all of my valuables were gone, and Sam was gone. My old 25, year old roommate went with me to get probed by rape kits, was there when I had to answer a million questions from the cops; when my parents came, and when my entire room was turned into a crime scene. The charges were dropped even though it was proven that I was drugged and they literally had all of the evidence.
After that, I’d gone into a deep, dark downward spiral for years with a couple suicide attempts in between. After everything happened, I turned to drugs and alcohol to numb my pain. My parents wouldn’t let me circle the drain, and so I went to rehab about 2 months after everything happened. After taking a semester off, I came to Southern to start over. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t a train wreck when I got here; because for a long time I was. For the years that I was here, most of them, I was very unstable. Most of them I spent more intoxicated than not, screwing around, and feeling sorry for myself. Feeling sorry for myself, yet repeating the same dangerous patterns which almost got me into a serious situation in sobriety.
I was in an organization where I was the only girl, and me thinking that I could trust people, put me into a situation where one of them tried to take advantage of me. I mean he was so bold he put in our organization’s Group Me that he was, “about to rape this girl right now.” None of them came to my aid; no one gave a damn, except for our advisor (that really wanted me to report it). I chose not to report it because I didn’t want to be “that” girl here. I didn’t want people to say I was asking for it. Even though, I did not, and I said no, pushed him off, and ran out of his apartment.
Plus, what was reporting going to do? I’d done that before (with evidence) and no one cared. I wasn’t about to go through all of that and be labeled for nothing. Men are (at least) twice as strong as us and society works in their favor, but yet somehow, it’s always the woman’s fault. “She asked for it, she shouldn’t have been with him – she, she, she.” Does no one ever consider that some men are scumbags? After what had happened… I was determined to never let another man pin me down and violate me ever again. I knew that that day, I wouldn’t let anyone make me feel weak or vulnerable ever again. I knew that that day, I had to be strong and fight and that the cycle had to stop. If society wouldn’t fight for me, I would have to stand and fight for myself.
Before that, and for a long time, even today, I’ll be honest I wasn’t the most trusting of people (especially men). I became cold, nervous, cut off, and pushed a lot of people away out of fear of being hurt. My relationships with men were always the most confusing. Because it was like I wanted security and to not be afraid; but then, I just still couldn’t be around them sober. Sex was still the same, filling the void for male attention, and just laying there drunk and letting it happen; because, that was all I ever knew. I was always afraid of when they’d hurt me or show their true colors. Most of them did. But my story doesn’t end all sadly. Granted I may hate this school sometimes, Georgia Southern saved my life.
The true friends that I’ve met here are the reason I’m alive today. They saved me from overdosing, flashbacks, nightmares, being a complete drunken wreck, and helped me through my depression. But being at Georgia Southern, I grew up and learned a lot about life and myself. I had to learn that you can’t trust everyone; many people aren’t looking out for your best interests, only for theirs. I had to learn every action has a consequence, and to act accordingly to avoid harsher ones. But above all, here at Southern, I learned what sex and love is and how to make it. I’ve learned how to love and cherish myself. Even after all of that, I’ve learned to love. Now, don’t get me wrong. I still have problems with drinking, depression, nervousness, etc sometimes (for obvious reasons), that I’m working through one day at a time, but I’m making it. I’m no longer existing, but I’m living.
I’m sure people will read this and feel like “oh my God poor thing,” still think I asked for these things to happen, or maybe just not care. But hey, what can you do? Even if this doesn’t get the most reads, I hope that this inspires someone to tell and share their story. Because you can either continue to live with the things that happened to you or you can be free. I chose the latter. No matter what you go through, don’t let people that haven’t walked a day in your shoes judge you.
Rape doesn’t make you a slut, whore, hoe or anything like that. Don’t think of ways you could’ve prevented it. It wasn’t your fault and don’t let anyone tell you it was either. Most of all, forgive those who’ve hurt you, so that you can be free and not for nothing, never pity yourself. Because I’m going to be honest, most of the world doesn’t give a damn about what has happened to you. As far as most people are concerned, they have their own problems, but there are some that do care that will help you make it through. I don’t know that I or anyone else will ever fully clear themselves of experiences like these. But what we can do, is help prevent them for other women. So speak up; don’t silence your stories. Because when we stay silent, our attackers always keep a part of us. Stay strong and watch the company that you keep.