Written on the 8 Month Anniversary of my Assault
Today marks eight months and one day since my assault. I would have preferred to write these reflections on the actual anniversary day, but let’s be real, I still get a little funky each month when the 28th rolls around. This post, though, is not meant to be entirely consumed by these “dark days,” as I like to call them, but also to allow the light that grows ever brighter with each passing anniversary to shine through.
*This is important. Please note that this is my journey and that everyone heals differently and handles things differently. Some reading this may, God-willing never have to go through this process, others will have gone through it more quickly or more slowly or entirely differently…Just remember not to compare. The only goal is wholeness. All that matters is focusing on what, for each of us individually, is the right next step forward. As long as we keep putting one foot in front of the other on our own pathway, not side-stepping onto others’, we’ll make our way to healing, happiness and freedom.
8 months: Yesterday, I found myself caught up in the moving parts of my day, distracted from the date or that it held any particular significance other than it was Monday. It wasn’t until, I made my way home, curled up in my bed and found this gnawing feeling in my gut, that I picked up the calendar and noted its origin. Until that moment, it had been a relatively normal day, that alone a HUGE accomplishment. Amazingly enough, yesterday was also my first day at my new job. Perhaps not that significant to anyone else, but for me it was a massive milestone because this is the first time I’ve held a full time job since the assault. I’m 29 years old and I will be financially independent for the first time in 8 months. Can we just celebrate that for a second?!?! At this point, I still can’t accomplish more than a few hours of tormented sleep without the help of a prescription sleep aid, I still can’t fall asleep without the TV on (or in my case Hulu Plus) to distract my thoughts, I still need a night light left on in the house, I still can’t go for a run without the anxiety symptom of the PTSD causing my heart to race, I see a counselor, a trauma therapist, go to a group for sex assault survivors and so much more…but, it doesn’t matter. Tomorrow is another day. Another day to grow and heal. And if tomorrow happens to be a bad day, which come along every so often to pull me back down again, then I will wait out the storm knowing that following tomorrow comes yet ANOTHER DAY!