I think it’s time I’ve talked about something I usually try to avoid. Maybe it’ll give you more of an understanding on why I started my blog in the first place. My story. My testimony. My feelings. My truth. Though multiple people know I was sexually assaulted at a young age, there’s more— a lot more to the story. Of course this is a blog not a book so it will of course be shortened... but let’s begin.
I’ll begin the story with a little background about my rape, since there’s been many questions and many versions told. When I was 14 years old I was raped by my female best friend, (16) her boyfriend (18) and his best friend (18) at a sleepover. Without being too graphic I’ll say I was sodomized, hit, and tied up while they took turns raping me. No I did no agree to sleep with one of them. The night before my friend gave me a cup of fruit punch that made me drowsy. (ladies and men please always pour your own drinks). The next thing I remember is waking up tied to her bed, and everyone was gone. A memory that’s never left my mind. Well after it happened I returned to my normal life— well tried to at least. Twice I tried to reach out to women of authority in my life. Both my school administrator and a leader of my church told me it was my fault because of how I looked. So I went four years acting as if never happened. During that time I was diagnosed with chronic depression and I was suicidal. Months later I tried to end my life. After an argument with my mom I broke a mirror in my bedroom and began cutting myself. That was the first time in my life I was sure I wanted to die. However that’s also the day I realized God didn’t want me to die. No matter how hard I tried, how deep I cut it didn’t work. That day I felt the presence of God like I’ve never have before. I wasn’t okay but I knew I had to be. I tried to live a normal life but I couldn’t. The anxiety I already had became worse. At school I was known as the “whore who got a train ran on her” the bullying became unbearable. I started having panic attacks weekly, crying episodes, I was terrified. So I left December of my Freshmen year. For the next three years I didn’t leave my home. Anytime I would have to go outside I would have a panic attack. Begging, screaming and crying for my mom to not leave me. Again nobody knew the real reason. They just attributed it to social anxiety. My mom tried to do all she could to help... but she couldn’t. So August of 2019 I decided to help myself. I started getting deep in my word and prayer life. By this time I had been taking 75 mg of Sertraline also known as “Zoloft” for about 6-8 months. It helped but it made me nauseous, and tired. I would get hot flashes and I couldn’t remember things to save my life. So without talking to my doctor I stopped taking it. I knew that I would be okay without it. I told my mom instead of the pill I trusted God to handle it. Anytime I got nervous or anxious I said a prayer, listened to gospel, or wrote in my prayer journal. It worked for a while.
Now to the part where most of you started knowing me. November 26th 2019 I created a fan page and shared bits and pieces of my story. Though I got a rocky start, most of the pages were nice. I met my best friends at the time, and I was genuinely happy for a little while. These were the first friends I had in four years, and the first people I shared the full story with. Later, in December a page on Instagram found my story and reached out to one of my idols, in hopes of me meeting them. After that I got hate messages, people talked about me in their group chats, on their IG stories etc. My friends and I ignored it but every night I cried myself to sleep. After I met them it got even worse. By April I was being called a liar, being told to kill myself, there were fake pages made about me, hate pages. It was rough but I kept in my mind that at least my friends knew the truth about me, and though it kept me sane, I was still hurting. Then I met my guardian Angel. At that time in my life she was what I needed— a friend. An ally. Someone to believe me. But the bullying didn’t stop. More fake pages were created, they went digging in my background, and found my rapist. Out of anger and I guess retaliation he posted a video of him raping me on his story, tagged her, and all my friends. At this point I had to go to the police. I had to tell my mom the truth. I couldn’t deal with it all. So for the first time in 4 years, once again I was at a place where I tried to end my life. I found my anti-depressants and took four of them mixed with four Tylenol. As I was standing in the bathroom, crying I instantly regretted it. I couldn’t leave my family.. My friends. The woman who had now become my 2nd mom. So I stuck my finger down my throat and threw them back up.
After all of this happened the fan pages finally stopped the bullying but what nobody knew is what I was dealing with behind the scenes. I now had to go through the motions of getting the people who raped me arrested. Once I got the police involved the hell I was in became worse. Their friends, lovers, and ex-lovers started harassing me and my friends including my mom (2). I was assaulted in a bathroom, they took pictures of me, hit me, threatened me— and now I had to send their friends to prison? Where was I going to get the strength to stand up to them? I was a shy little nobody, who would believe me? Well “My Earth Angel” as I call her was right there the whole time. I had made new friends (two of which I’m still best friends with today) and my original two best friends who were all there. So I wrote my statement. None of the other women felt secure in speaking up so I had too. Remembering every harsh detail. Having to repeat everything that was said to me. I cried the whole time. My father found out about the rape and took his anger out on me. I had a black eye, bruises, dislocated shoulder, and a sprained ankle. It hurt, but he was my dad. Luckily one of my assailants made a deal by giving up the other two, plus the video , and the social media posts.. I didn’t have to go to trial. I picked them out of a lineup, attended sentencing and closed that chapter in my life. It feels like when one door closed another opened and not in a good way. At the end of May the messages from unknown people started happening again. I was a lot stronger however, a lot harder to break—or so I thought. I found out the person who was messaging me was someone I looked at as a big sister... with the help of my best friends. This had been going on for months. My heart broke. I don’t think I had ever truly experienced heart break until that moment. I was however reminded that I had come too far to end it there. Our friendship may have ended but my life didn’t nor did my purpose.
After that, I consecrated for 40 days with my mom (2) and my friends who have now become my sisters. I left social media, worked on my relationship with my family, I joined an amazing network of people who have become 2nd family. I gained an iconic uncle and aunt who have shown me nothing but love, support and acceptance. I met my third best friend/sister and realized what true friendship is. The harassment stopped and started back up but hey “weapons shall form but..” and you should know the rest. That’s the great thing about have an amazing support team— with GOD on it. A story I was always too afraid to share, I am now sharing with the world. I’m not perfectly healed, I still have flashbacks, nightmares, I get scared sometimes, I have bad days, but I’m not the same me. I don’t question why God allowed me to go through the things I’ve been through. Someone had too. We needed an example of how extreme things could get in these situations. I’m expecting more tests, in fact I look forward to it. A wise woman once told me when you’re being upgraded you have to be tested. So bring it on ;)
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