Anger.

Stage two: Anger.

I remember walking into one of the familiar bars in my college town with a couple of my friends for a night out. Little did I know, the next stage of this whole grief process was about to hit. Hit hard. I can picture it perfectly. I was talking to one of my friends to the left of me, sitting in a bar stool, casually drinking. I turn to my right for a second and there he is. He's not far, not far at all, he's standing right beside me. Inches away. I can feel his breath just lingering on my skin. I felt my body instantly go numb.

When I finally realize what exactly is going on. Seeing him for the first time since that one night, knowing that he knows exactly who I am, thinking that the same thing could potentially happen again if I don't get out. As I'm about to walk away, he taps me on my shoulder. "Hey, you remember me right?" he said. "How could I forget?" I said on the verge of tears. "Well, let me get you a drink. I owe you that much." he ruthlessly responded.

Up until those words came out of his mouth, I was in denial that this all happened to me. I remember even in the summer thinking that maybe he was just really drunk and he didn't mean to do what he did to me. No, a million times no. If you ever are unfortunately in a sexual assault situation, don't you ever dare think that person was just "really drunk" or whatever the case may be. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because even though he was drunk, he still knew that what he was doing to me was wrong. "I owe you that much" ... Yeah man you owe me way more than that.

I instantly felt like I was going to vomit after I left the bar with my friend. I constantly just felt every emotion through my body that I felt the night the act itself happened. I think the anger started to kick in that night, my friend didn't know what had happened to me, and I knew that I needed to tell her. She saw me distressed, a complete mess, my whole self was just shattered. I didn't want to lie and I shouldn't have to lie. So I was mad, not at her but because I knew I was going to have to start talking about my rape. In that moment, I finally realized that I was raped and he knew, without a doubt, exactly what he did.

I kept getting mad at everyone and I mean everyone. People that didn't know what happened, people that did know what happened. No matter who it was, I'd be pissed at them for not knowing what was going on inside my head and how I felt. I felt like life was just completely unfair.

After the night I saw him, I definitely opened up a little more to certain people about what happened and I was proud of myself for that. But I found myself only starting to think about the whole situation every single day. From the moment that I would wake up till the moment I finally fell asleep, I would think about anything and everything regarding my rape. And although I tried to distract myself in numerous ways, numerous times, nothing seemed to help. To make matters worse, my coping methods were not the brightest. When I returned to school for my spring semester, things got bad, in a way that I never thought could.

I went back home almost every weekend, which may not be a big deal to some people but my college is eight hours away from home. So when I say it's difficult to try and go home, it was a damn hard time to get home, but I went home. I remember going home mid-February for the fourth time that semester, two weeks before my spring break. When it was time for me to take the long-haul bus to go back to school that Monday, I never did. And that's all there was to it.

I couldn't stand the thought of being in the same location as someone that has made me feel so worthless in every way for the past 90 days. So I wouldn't leave. Not just my house, not just my bedroom, but my actual bed. It wasn't worth it to me, nothing seemed worthy at that point. So now I was angry but I was also even more pissed that this guy was affecting my academic career. He messed with my physical and mental wellbeing but now he's going to take this away from me. I knew being home and taking the semester off was the best option but what is everyone going to think? Barely anyone knew what happened to me besides a select few and if I were to just abruptly leave in the middle of the semester without saying anything at all, it would raise flags.

Then I found myself in the same situation I was before. I got mad at everyone and everything because at that point, if I was going to stay home, I knew I was going to have to be way more open or everyone would start talking. I knew rumors would start and I knew damn well I wasn't going to be blamed or talked about for something I didn't do or want happened to me. Although I know I hurt many people during this stage in my life, it was never intentional. Being angry, realizing what was going on in my life, it was necessary. I needed to feel that pain to help me heal. But to anyone that I did hurt, I am sorry, and please know that person wasn't me and never will be. To everyone at OU (friends and faculty) that helped me leave and come back the following semester so smoothly, I don't think a day goes by where I constantly think about how thankful I am for you.

Anger was one of the worst stages but nothing was worse than depression. Be patient and stay tuned.