Beauty has nothing to do with happiness

I write this  not to make you uncomfortable or to air my dirty laundry for all to see.  I write this because someone I once loved very  much decided to take his own life.  It came out after that he had been a victim of sexual abuse as a child and felt ashamed.  I write this because he felt alone and helpless.  I write this because I understand feeling alone and helpless.  If by sharing my story I can make one person feel understood... I'm willing.  Most of you may know this story.. or at least parts of it.

On the heels of the #metoo movement; I have decided to share a story of mental illness, sexual abuse and assault.  I am not censoring who sees this... so you should stop now if you have no interest in reading very real trauma and knowing me better than you'd ever care to. 


I am a survivor.

I have survived and flourished despite being sexually abused by a friend of the family from the ages of 2 until 4 or 5.  He was a teenager.  Because he wasn't officially an "adult" this was blown off as "kids will be kids".  Let me reiterate that he was a fully developed  14-16 year old "kid".  He and his friends would carry me on their shoulders off to the woods to have a grand old time.  His younger brother learned from his older brother and would join in as well.  I remember bits and pieces, but not the full time because not only was I a very young child, but trauma does tend to create dark spots in memory regardless of age.  This was also something held against me when I tried to tell about my abuse.  "If it actually happened, wouldn't you remember?"

The thing that people don't seem to get if you've never experienced it, is that once you become a victim of sexual abuse, there seems to be a mark.  Predators are very keen on knowing who they can target. 


Throughout my childhood I was inappropriately touched by many many males.  From older cousins, to uncles and random people.  I legitimately thought this was how I was supposed to be treated.  I would draw pictures of penis's and always acted out by lying and pretending to be something or someone I was not.  No worries, my dad "beat the lying out of me" as a child.  A fact he's very fond of sharing with anyone who will listen.  He'll never understand.  So I let it go.  Shortly after this I attempted suicide for the first time.  I slept for 2 days straight.  No one  noticed.  I was angry I hadn't taken enough pills.  Next time.  I was 13.

As I got older, I began suffering from a deeper depression.  I wanted to feel loved and get attention and did many things to feel both... even if temporary. 

I finally got into therapy when I was 18.  It was life saving.  Literally.  But as with most things at that time, it was temporary.  I got into therapy until I felt I could deal with life and quit that, too. 

Everything was temporary.  Jobs, boyfriends, girlfriends, friends, drugs, alcohol, stealing, lying, risking my life and health any way I could find.  All for a brief moment of feeling something.  Anything.  I was beyond numb.  I seemed to have two modes.  Completely  numb, or I felt everything.  I mean EVERYTHING.  It was at this time I discovered what an empath was.  It wasn't a welcomed development. 

I was sexually assaulted at a party while passed out.  There were "friends" present.  They said because I had flirted with the guy some in the night, they figured I would be okay with this.  I was sexually assaulted a few times throughout my days of numbing my feelings... because what's more attractive than a girl who can't say no?  Just about any kind of rape or sexual assault you can think of - I've experienced it.  Every time I dusted myself off and moved on.  It was normalized in my mind.  They must really like me if they had to have me, right?

I've been on several different medications for depression and anxiety, with many different results.  I was having withdrawals from Paxil when I very nearly succeeded in taking my own life.  If my partner at the time hadn't felt something wasn't right when he talked to me on the phone, I wouldn't be here today.  He showed up literally seconds after downing a bottle of pills I had been hoarding for just the right time.  I picked the bed and room in my house so that the ambulance drivers wouldn't have too hard of a time getting my very large body out of the door.  I snuggled my Marley and apologized to her as I waited for sleep.  Instead, Brandon came in and called 911.  My heart rate had just started to slow when they put me in the back of the ambulance.  I woke up to the EMT asking why such a pretty young girl would want to leave this world.  Pretty?  Did she just call me pretty?  The other EMT said "beauty has nothing to do with happiness" and I woke up in the ER having my stomach pumped.  This is where my story changes.

I did not have health insurance.  I was sent to a state run mental hospital.  I was only there 72 hours.  I am a smart, smart girl when I  have to be.  I spent that entire time explaining how I was okay and I wasn't intentionally trying to kill myself.  I saw the definition of crazy in that place.  I saw people who slit their wrists on a public bus so they would have somewhere to sleep and a meal.  I saw a lady who had set her baby on fire.  I heard stories that still haunt me.  I decided pretty quickly that I was going to get better.  I couldn't cure my depression, I couldn't change the way my past affected me, but I could change the way my future looked.  There was an actual moment when I felt my heart turn.  I spent hours talking to people and listening.  Making them feel like someone heard them and they weren't just a number.  I watched the intake process and slept in a reclining chair in the TV room so as not to be in the middle of people being held down and tranquilized. 

I left that experience and decided to change the way I dealt with my pain.  I fell deeply in love with people.  All of them.  I still have moments, my depression and anxiety is not cured.  But I've chosen to give all the love I've got until I'm gone.  I feel better by making others feel better.  I climbed and fought my way out of holes deeper than I knew possible.  I've said goodbye to too many friends who could not beat their demons.  But I still love them.  I try my hardest to not judge anyone, because you have no idea what their path has been.  I've chosen happiness, but it's a choice I have to make daily, hourly and I sometimes fail.  I've been incredibly wonderfully blessed with people in my life who love me no matter what. 

Mental illness affects us all in many different ways.  Be the person who does not judge and just love us.  Love us all.  We are beautifully imperfect trying to be the best we can. 

You are not alone.