Deleted member 2403
Emerald
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I'm a teenage girl overwhelmed with PTSD, guilt, depression, fear of intimacy, fear of the future, and feelings of inadequacy, and my family doesn't give a shit.
Warning: novel ahead.
I'm seventeen, almost eighteen years old.
When I was fifteen, I was violently sexually assaulted by a friend's older brother. I'm not talking about a rape where you're drunkenly hooking up and the girl says "oh no" mid-way through sex and he doesn't immediately stop, no. I'm talking about a guy who is a foot and a half taller than me overpowering me, pinning me down with a knife to my throat, threatening my life, and violently assaulting me. Because of the fear, I stupidly waited too long to tell anybody, and when I finally did two months after the event, there was nothing anyone could do.
Nothing ever happened to him. He got off scotfree. He graduated from high school on the honor roll, is now in the USMC, has an amazing life, and is engaged to a wonderful, beautiful girl.
Meanwhile, I'm stuck with the memories and the broken shards of myself that he left in his wake. I went into a deep depression after the assault, and eventually developed an eating disorder and began self-harming. I've been in recovery from my eating disorder since July 2013, so that isn't a problem anymore, although food is still tricky for me. I used to have an athletic body with no scars, no marks, and I took that for granted. Now I have a thin body I've destroyed, that's covered in scars because of my stupid decisions.
I've been overwhelmed with my studies, too. I feel like I'm *constantly* studying for tests, doing homework, looking at colleges. I feel like I'm drowning in coursework. My life is no longer fun, it's just work, work, work. Trying to get the best grades, get into the best university. I'm also terrified of the future, terrified of being an adult, terrified of the responsibilities.
Oh, and did I mention that I have a crippling fear of intimacy? My last boyfriend and I broke up because every time he'd try to touch me in an intimate manner, I'd get scared and not want to do it. This is one of the most frustrating aspects of my life, because I have a sex drive, and I want to have sex, and I can sext and phone-sex (and I'll admit I've done it more than a couple of times) and whatnot, but the second it becomes real I panic and get scared. I hate this about me.
When I talk to my parents about my mental problems or suggest I get a therapist, they think it's absurd. They don't believe in real psychiatry and think that therapy is a ridiculous waste of time and money. I've literally begged for help, and they've seen me fall apart, and I feel like they don't care at all. They think I should just "suck it up".
(I feel like I should mention I'm not white, by the way, I'm Native American - grew up on a reservation - so I don't really have the typical "All-American" family unit. I've never seen a family like mine represented anywhere in any form of media, so this could make a big difference. I'm not sure.)
And finally, my guilt. My guilt eats me alive. I'm so guilty because I didn't immediately report my attacker. Every moment of the day, in the back of my mind, is the lingering thought that because I didn't help get this guy locked up, that's he probably attacked other women/men. And I fear for his fiancée. What happens to her? What *will* happen to her? If something does happen or has happened, it's all my fucking fault.
So I feel like I'm at the end. I can't take this anymore. I don't even know why I'm writing this. I guess just to say that I can't see any other way out, other than to kill myself. My family doesn't care. I'm far too fucked up to live. I have a few ideas of how to do it. I feel like I'll finally find some peace, the peace I haven't felt in nearly three years.
Warning: novel ahead.
I'm seventeen, almost eighteen years old.
When I was fifteen, I was violently sexually assaulted by a friend's older brother. I'm not talking about a rape where you're drunkenly hooking up and the girl says "oh no" mid-way through sex and he doesn't immediately stop, no. I'm talking about a guy who is a foot and a half taller than me overpowering me, pinning me down with a knife to my throat, threatening my life, and violently assaulting me. Because of the fear, I stupidly waited too long to tell anybody, and when I finally did two months after the event, there was nothing anyone could do.
Nothing ever happened to him. He got off scotfree. He graduated from high school on the honor roll, is now in the USMC, has an amazing life, and is engaged to a wonderful, beautiful girl.
Meanwhile, I'm stuck with the memories and the broken shards of myself that he left in his wake. I went into a deep depression after the assault, and eventually developed an eating disorder and began self-harming. I've been in recovery from my eating disorder since July 2013, so that isn't a problem anymore, although food is still tricky for me. I used to have an athletic body with no scars, no marks, and I took that for granted. Now I have a thin body I've destroyed, that's covered in scars because of my stupid decisions.
I've been overwhelmed with my studies, too. I feel like I'm *constantly* studying for tests, doing homework, looking at colleges. I feel like I'm drowning in coursework. My life is no longer fun, it's just work, work, work. Trying to get the best grades, get into the best university. I'm also terrified of the future, terrified of being an adult, terrified of the responsibilities.
Oh, and did I mention that I have a crippling fear of intimacy? My last boyfriend and I broke up because every time he'd try to touch me in an intimate manner, I'd get scared and not want to do it. This is one of the most frustrating aspects of my life, because I have a sex drive, and I want to have sex, and I can sext and phone-sex (and I'll admit I've done it more than a couple of times) and whatnot, but the second it becomes real I panic and get scared. I hate this about me.
When I talk to my parents about my mental problems or suggest I get a therapist, they think it's absurd. They don't believe in real psychiatry and think that therapy is a ridiculous waste of time and money. I've literally begged for help, and they've seen me fall apart, and I feel like they don't care at all. They think I should just "suck it up".
(I feel like I should mention I'm not white, by the way, I'm Native American - grew up on a reservation - so I don't really have the typical "All-American" family unit. I've never seen a family like mine represented anywhere in any form of media, so this could make a big difference. I'm not sure.)
And finally, my guilt. My guilt eats me alive. I'm so guilty because I didn't immediately report my attacker. Every moment of the day, in the back of my mind, is the lingering thought that because I didn't help get this guy locked up, that's he probably attacked other women/men. And I fear for his fiancée. What happens to her? What *will* happen to her? If something does happen or has happened, it's all my fucking fault.
So I feel like I'm at the end. I can't take this anymore. I don't even know why I'm writing this. I guess just to say that I can't see any other way out, other than to kill myself. My family doesn't care. I'm far too fucked up to live. I have a few ideas of how to do it. I feel like I'll finally find some peace, the peace I haven't felt in nearly three years.
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