Sometimes people say things to victims that they might not realise hurt like a few hundred bricks just landed on your chest.
Like my friend, after we got into an argument about why I had tried to kill myself abroad earlier that year.
She said: "But what about what he did was so bad?"
Hmm.. I can't even now find a response to that question.
Or like my mother, who recently said to me in a childish exaggerated voice:
"You're always like, 'ooh feel sorry for me, I had such a hard time, I feel so bad..buhuuu' " "Just get some help then"
Hmm... well this is something that I am never going to forget.
But I am not letting any of the above get in the way of my relationships. I have lost enough, I can't lose anymore.
Wednesday 22 January 2014
2012, the year of the monster. 2013, the year of the new beginning, the downfall and the attempted suicide
I thought that when 2012 would end, so would my pain. It was going to be a new start.
Gone was the most painful, difficult and horrible year of my life. Gone was the year of the Monster.
Finally 2013 was here, and with it a new me. It all started really well, I got a new job, a job that I had wanted so badly. It was a great position and I truly loved it. I did not write on the blog, I did not read about rapes, I decided to remove myself from that part of my life completely. Kind of like Out of Sight out of Mind, right?
But unfortunately that's not really how it works.
The memories that I tried so hard to block out and the feelings I tried to ignore kept on creeping in on me when I least expected it. Mostly when I was drinking. That's when I lost my precious control.
Suddenly I found myself in a downward spiral just spiralling further and further down, to the point where I found myself at the hospital after drinking for, I don't know, a long time. And worse, after cutting myself. Only my legs, so that the scars couldn't be seen. Not so bad right. But the scars can be seen still, 7 months later.
That's when I realised that I would probably not survive living in the city of London much longer. The city where he raped me, and everything reminded me of him and what I had lost, would probably eventually kill me.
The city that I loved, where I had a life, where I had a fantastic job, would probably eventually kill me.
So I decided to leave. I decided to go travelling. Travelling is my passion, and I wanted to find myself. I went to Central America for 4 months.
This was probably the best thing I could have done. But no matter how far you travel, your feelings travel with you.
I really found myself again, I met new people constantly, and I could talk to them like I used to. Not like I was a rape victim. I was just me again.
I truly felt like I was healing. And I still know I did.
But like I said, your feelings are never far away.
After a series of bad descisions in Nicaragua, and many days of drinking constantly, I truly thought that the only way to end the pain was to end the reason for the pain, i.e my life.
I thought cutting my wrist was a good idea. But after I started, I realised that I couldn't cut deep enough to bleed out.
And that's when I remembered that I had a number of strong valiums that I had purchased in Guatemala earlier on the trip.
Suffice it to say I thought it easier to take all of them, and so I did.
Don't remember anything after that until I was woken up by people in the hostel in the morning, taking me to a hospital. So I laid in a hospital in Nicaragua with an IV drip and bugs creeping on the walls for 2 days.
Well at least I could say that I had then reached the bottom of the spiral.
Then came the shame, and the guilt, towards my parents especially. Those are feelings I can talk about another time.
Now it's 2014, and I'm back in Sweden. I wonder what this year will bring.
Gone was the most painful, difficult and horrible year of my life. Gone was the year of the Monster.
Finally 2013 was here, and with it a new me. It all started really well, I got a new job, a job that I had wanted so badly. It was a great position and I truly loved it. I did not write on the blog, I did not read about rapes, I decided to remove myself from that part of my life completely. Kind of like Out of Sight out of Mind, right?
But unfortunately that's not really how it works.
The memories that I tried so hard to block out and the feelings I tried to ignore kept on creeping in on me when I least expected it. Mostly when I was drinking. That's when I lost my precious control.
Suddenly I found myself in a downward spiral just spiralling further and further down, to the point where I found myself at the hospital after drinking for, I don't know, a long time. And worse, after cutting myself. Only my legs, so that the scars couldn't be seen. Not so bad right. But the scars can be seen still, 7 months later.
That's when I realised that I would probably not survive living in the city of London much longer. The city where he raped me, and everything reminded me of him and what I had lost, would probably eventually kill me.
The city that I loved, where I had a life, where I had a fantastic job, would probably eventually kill me.
So I decided to leave. I decided to go travelling. Travelling is my passion, and I wanted to find myself. I went to Central America for 4 months.
This was probably the best thing I could have done. But no matter how far you travel, your feelings travel with you.
I really found myself again, I met new people constantly, and I could talk to them like I used to. Not like I was a rape victim. I was just me again.
I truly felt like I was healing. And I still know I did.
But like I said, your feelings are never far away.
After a series of bad descisions in Nicaragua, and many days of drinking constantly, I truly thought that the only way to end the pain was to end the reason for the pain, i.e my life.
I thought cutting my wrist was a good idea. But after I started, I realised that I couldn't cut deep enough to bleed out.
And that's when I remembered that I had a number of strong valiums that I had purchased in Guatemala earlier on the trip.
Suffice it to say I thought it easier to take all of them, and so I did.
Don't remember anything after that until I was woken up by people in the hostel in the morning, taking me to a hospital. So I laid in a hospital in Nicaragua with an IV drip and bugs creeping on the walls for 2 days.
Well at least I could say that I had then reached the bottom of the spiral.
Then came the shame, and the guilt, towards my parents especially. Those are feelings I can talk about another time.
Now it's 2014, and I'm back in Sweden. I wonder what this year will bring.
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