+ Tides Ebb and Flow +

I am dating a new man. He makes me feel safe, happy, and cozy when in his arms or I'm near him.

I opened up to him in a way I haven't really with anyone about my rape and sex. In doing so, I tore myself open again. I didn't mean to and I didn't know that would be the outcome. I ended up crying in the middle of my gym, yet again. Just suddenly - my insides were torn open.

I hate that I was broken in this way. I hate that the monster that pops into my dreams when I least expect it did this to me. I hate that he stole my ability to get into sex for almost four years. I hate that sex terrifies me because of a rape that happened so long ago... He's made it so that sex has some very negative associations for me. I hate that even now, almost four years later, I can be brought to my knees from memories of the intrusion into me.

Even now, I'm fighting the urge to cry all over again. I feel stupid because I don't even know what is causing me to feel I need to cry. I'm safe now. He's nowhere near me...I haven't seen my own personal monster since the rape. There's nothing here to hurt me.

I have a man that I love and am safe with. He knew I'd been raped and that didn't stop him from being a friend to me, and it didn't stop him from pursuing a relationship with me. He's healing me in ways I didn't know I was broken.

After I was raped, I still wasn't treated well by the few men I had sex with...

The first guy I was with was in an open relationship with his girlfriend who went to a different college. He used me, and I let him because I thought I could change him...because girls are idiots. I believe this is also the story of one of my friend's v-card loss, too. So, at least it's not just me.

The second guy - my rapist. I still blame myself a little because I could have been smarter, but he'd been gracious when I said no earlier that night. I had no idea I'd be drugged and raped...

The third guy was the only one that got me off. At all. So, I mean props to him for that. But he also disappeared on me without a word. Then, I was using him subconsciously to attempt to get the rape out of my system so... well, we used each other.

The fourth guy lied about being single, was awful in bed, and kicked me out mid-way for me after he lasted all of 30 seconds. Then couldn't understand why I was pissed upon leaving. Then I got a message from his girlfriend, not because she was mad but to invite me to a threesome... needless to say I invited them both to get out of my life.

The fifth guy toyed with me for a year, dragged my feelings around, was the reason I was raped in that I started dating to get over him and the rape came of the dating. I still ended up in bed with him as a lousy time and then he never spoke to me again...

All of those experiences together make for negative associations in all aspects of sex for me. I'm timid, I'm shy, and I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't totally know what I'm into. I'm afraid I'll be thrown away by anyone not patient enough to let me explore with them. I want sex, but it also terrifies me because of all the ways I've been messed up by men.

I didn't know that it's not normal to be unsatisfied, angry, and severely dislike the guy after sex. I didn't know that wanting to kick him out of your bed, space, and life immediately was not the norm. That's just the results I had after sex all the time. I figured I was broken and that there was something wrong with me.

The rape tore me apart from the inside out. It's damaged my psyche and associations with sex. It's made me question all men no matter the context or time of day. It's made me afraid of men, night, sex, relationships, my thoughts when I'm alone, dreams turned nightmares, and it rocked me to my entire foundations...

It's also made me stronger and more apt to fight. It's made me able to explore my depths and tear down my walls and know myself. It allowed me to reclaim myself and fight to find truly good men.

My ex was what I needed to show me I could and should trust men again. He was the harmless man I needed after my rape- too afraid to so much as touch me, yet showing me some kindness.

He opened the doors for me to allow my current boyfriend into my life. My boyfriend is definitely the best man I've come across ever. I couldn't be happier with any man. He's patient, kind, loving, sweet, gentlemanly, sexy, funny, goofy, nerdy, lovey-dovey, sarcastic, cute, and everything I could have ever hoped for.

+ To the Man Who Taught Me How to Trust Again +

Learning to trust men again after being raped is something more difficult than I ever believed before it happened to me. I didn't realize how much the rape affected me until I moved passed my denial phase, which lasted a full year. Now three and a half years later I am still hit with some effects though much less often.

The men walking next to you can be a murderer or a rapist. You don't think about it as much until it happens to you. Then suddenly every man has the potential to be a threat to you. You never know if you can trust the man you're walking next to on the street, the guy you're in a room with existing in the same space, or the man asking you out on a date. Now you see risks everywhere you go. Every man you see leaves you on edge wondering if in the right circumstances he would rape you, too.

With you, though, everything was natural. It was so easy and effortless to talk to you and share space with.

You were the first man I told that, upon hearing about my being raped, acknowledged that it was awful and wrong. You said that you were sorry it happened to me. You listened and didn't judge. You didn't see me as broken or damaged. You didn't tell me that I was stupid for having panic attacks at the idea of going on dates with other men. You didn't tell me my fear was ridiculous or uncalled for.

Thank you for listening and not judging my tale. 

Thank you for complimenting my intelligence and diction before anything else.

Thank you for talking to me endlessly to let me get to know you before going out with you in person.

Thank you for actively telling me how much you wanted to be with me.

Thank you for jumping in with me with such confidence that I forgot all the times men struggled with indecision over being with me or not.

Thank you for choosing me with absolute certainty.

Thank you for being so understanding when I agreed to go out with you that you offered to let me cancel on you last minute if I got a panic attack. Saying you'd rather wait if you needed to until I felt comfortable and safe to go out with you than force it and ruin any chance of being with me.

Thank you for kissing me like you had all the time in the world- gently and sweetly. You weren't pushy or trying to move on to anything more than kissing.

Thank you for always being sweet and careful with me.

Thank you for holding me while I slept with no other agenda than sleeping.

Thank you for letting me be an insufferable nerd girl at you.

Thank you for listening to my literary nerd girling- Imp of the Perverse, Lord of the Rings, and my rants on the education system as a whole.

Thank you for playing video games with me.

Thank you for watching Star Wars and Marvel movies with me.

Thank you for getting more comedy in my life, even if it forced me to stop hating Seth Rogen movies.

Thank you for holding doors open for me, for taking me on dates, for always making me feel safe around you.

Thank you for being a perfect gentleman.

Thank you for putting up with my incessant indecision in all things.

Thank you for all the laughter, ridiculous puns, pirate jokes, and silliness.

Thank you for all the stories you told me and listening to mine.

Thank you for being surly, sarcastic, and teasing me every chance you got.

Thank you for letting me use your dog to get my doggie-fixes when I was mourning the loss of my own.

Thank you for letting me enter your world even if it was only briefly.

Thank you for healing a part of me and my fear I thought I had to just learn to live with.

Thank you for showing me that I don't need to keep the walls and barriers around myself up all the time.

Thank you for showing me not all men will rape.

Thank you for showing me not all men want women just for sex.

Thank you for showing me that men can genuinely care for me.

Thank you for apologizing to me.

Thank you for always being honest with me even when it wasn't what I wanted to hear. Especially when it wasn't what I wanted to hear.

Thank you for not telling me to go away completely.

Thank you for being the best boyfriend I could have hoped for after being raped and for being the best boyfriend that ever entered my life.

Thank you ever so much for showing me that I can and should trust again. You were exactly who I needed to find. I think you were meant to help me learn this lesson. You are so amazing in every way, and I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I regret our timing more than I can ever express, but I don't for one second regret you or any of the time I spent with you. I wish we could be together, but I understand. I adore you always.

+ Healing Processes +

The thing about healing when you've been broken is that it truly isn't a linear thing. Brokenness tears you up inside and out. It doesn't matter if it's from a breakup, mental/emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, being cheated on, or the death of a loved one. Those things all break you to the point where you're dropped to your knees (sometimes literally and sometimes figuratively). It hurts both viscerally in your heart and it burrows into your head to torment you... and the thing is everyone's healing timeline is different. What's enough time for one person might not be the same for someone else because each experience is different. You can't walk into someone else's skin to live their experiences and pain. You wouldn't want to and you wouldn't want someone else to be able to because they're intensely personal.

I'm often stuck inside my head fighting my demons that dwell in those murky depths of the mind. They hit me like an anvil when I least expect it, and I'm still dropped by pain from my past. Some days I'm aces. Some days it takes all I have to function and pull myself together to get through work. I know that I am a broken, mess of a person. I am chaos. I am fire that ignites and burns rampant in a forest of decay. I am the murky abyss beneath the ocean's surface containing the Leviathans of the deeps.

I have a rage that boils inside and projectiles as Vesuvius did in 79 A.D. It wins some days. Other days my rage lies dormant and inactive waiting for the steam to bubble back up.

My broken consciousness ebbs and flows. I'm glad to say that I have more good days than I do bad ones at this point. However, it has taken me countless hours and days lost in thought to work through things. Endless glasses of wine with my best girls. Walls of texts to my best man friends that could rival the Wall of China. Novels to my cousin pouring my heart out and wanting the pain to end.

All of my broken consciousness stems from all the reasons I offered.

I had severe emotional abuse as a child. I still hold the insecurities inside that ignited from that abuse. I was told a lot of my life that I was worthless and lazy. I heard most of my life that I was a pig. I was ugly. I was not worth anything. It was people that were supposed to love me that spewed those awful things to me. No matter how much makeup I use, how often I go to the gym, or how fit I become. I still have trouble seeing myself in a positive light during the bad days.

I was hit almost every day as a little girl. I hid bruises on my arms and legs for the better part of my childhood. I still feel weird exposing my legs or arms. I'm rarely seen not wearing jeans and hoodies- a complex to keep teachers from thinking my parents beat me because it wasn't them. I cower randomly for no reason at times. I have moments of rage for the person who did it to me that crushes me out of the blue. Most days I hold no grudge. I managed to move on. On the bad days I think I deserved it and hate myself and was never worth saving. The scars that live inside still linger.

One of my first boyfriends cheated on me. And at times I still believe no man will ever really choose me. There's a voice that whispers inside that I'm not worthy of love or good enough to keep a man interested. I have almost always been left for a better version of a female even in my later relationships. Sometimes I was left for the possibility of someone better not even anyone specific. Sometimes I was just blatantly used. Worth no more than the chance to get whatever the male wanted. They'd get it or not and then just disappear from my life forever. My worth as a person has been shaken at times. Slowly I've managed to build myself up and realize I'm worthy. I don't deserve the treatment I've gotten.

People I loved and admired most in my life have been stolen too soon. The sand in the hourglasses of their lives ran out without warning. There are days that the pain of loss is overwhelming no matter how long it has been since their deaths. November, December, and January are months I spend waiting for my loved ones to die. No good ever happens in those months for me. Things will strike up a memory of my loved one and I'll be knocked out with the pain of their loss all over again. Most days they're remembered with fondness and I feel grateful I knew them. Other days it's pain. I try to live my life in their honor and be a person they can be proud of. Most days I strive to be the best I can and use the pain to remind myself to not take people for granted.

And, finally, I was date raped. It was a first date and there's very little I know about him. I have a first name I know and nothing else I can be sure about. I can't hear that name and not be hit with the memory. Most days I live my life just fine. I move through the world relatively untouched by the effects of my rape. It was three and a half years ago. You would think that I would be completely healed by now. However, I am still knocked out at times and the wounds reopen in ways I can never predict.

I might drive by the relative location of where I think his house was and think I recognize it, but I can't be sure because I wasn't conscious for part of it. It comes flooding back. The feeling of waking with my clothes mysteriously removed and him on top of me, jackhammering away. The feeling that it wasn't happening to me. That it couldn't be me. My body reacting without my permission. My consciousness not in the act, not in control. My physical shell stolen and used as if it was nothing but an object to be taken. My consciousness broken apart from its outer shell and splintered into two pieces. My consciousness unable to comprehend what was happening.

I go to the store where I met him in the right conditions. Empty parking lot on a dark, rainy night. I get struck with the flashback of the night. I'm paralyzed. Panic sets in. I can no longer breathe. In that moment all I want is to not exist. I want to die. It comes in when you can't expect it. It hits and suddenly you're no longer in control of your body again like during the rape. On the bad days I tell myself it was my fault. I agreed to go to his place. I accepted a beer from him and even though I'm no lightweight I inexplicably passed out. I asked for it. I didn't fight him off upon waking, so I must have wanted it. I deserved it. I had it coming.

I get asked out on a date, and I think I am strong enough to take a leap of faith. The date approaches and panic sets in. I often cannot go on a date anymore because fear takes over and wins. The idea of meeting a stranger for a date causes panic attacks. I can't trust men anymore because of a rape that happened over three years ago. There is no guarantee that he won't try to rape me, too. I don't want to even try to date most days. I don't want to be around men I don't know and I don't feel I can trust. The rape has me damaged beyond repair some days.

The one exception I found that I was willing to risk a date with proved to be a worthy man. He showed me dates can be fun and men can be sweet. He's shown me that great men do exist still. That not all men will rape. He's the only one I would have agreed to be with. He wasn't a stranger and that was the biggest advantage he had in his favor. He's shown me that I can put trust and faith in some men. Unfortunately he has his own demons to work through, but he's been the best I've been with.

Most days I am in control. Most days I am not a victim. Most days I am a survivor. Most days I am the storm. Most days I am the chaos and shine brighter than the sun. Most days I am healed. However, healing isn't linear and sometimes I am not healed. Some wounds reopen. Some days you end up broken all over again. What we all have to remember is that healing is a process and eventually the wounds will stop throbbing. Healing ebbs and flows and everyone's timeline is different. I can promise though, one day your good days will outnumber your bad ones.

Update: Did I mention this got posted on Thought Catalog!?