Denial.

They say that the five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. In that order. They're right. I experienced all five, in that order (some longer than others and then some repeated longer than others) for the past two years. I guess the first question is, why? Why did I go through all this grief? Why me? Rape. Yes, that's right, I was raped. When I say that statement out loud it still sends chills down my spine.

It still hurts. I think it might always hurt. But I'm at the good part, I'm way past the acceptance. Of course, all the stages will come back and haunt you at times but really, I'm way past acceptance. When I tell people that I was a victim of sexual assault, one of the most common and idiotic responses (in my opinion) is, "No way, not you. How could you get raped?" Okay, hold on. What do you mean how could I get raped? Because the truth is, anyone could get raped. Anyone could be a victim of sexual assault. So please, think before you speak. Words hurt, even if you didn’t intended them to.

Stage one: Denial.

That happened from the moment the act took place (mid 2015) till about November 2015. The first 72 hours were all a blur or at least I try to blur out as much as I can. I remember waking up the next day after maybe a total of 24 minutes of sleep that night and continued to whisper to myself "nothing happened." But it did, something bad did happen and I knew it, but denial. I think the hardest part was trying to recognize that something you never thought would ever happen in a billion years, happened to you. Maybe I thought that if I kept on saying "nothing happened" then I wouldn't have to tell anyone, or the awful feeling of him against my body and the aching pit in my stomach would just go away.

It's such an unexplainable feeling. I'm sitting here, with a glass of red wine in my hand (yes, it's needed) thinking of how to interpret the way I felt the next day. I guess... trapped. Trapped in my dorm room, trapped with the million and one thoughts racing through my head, trapped in my comforter not wanting to ever get out. Trapped in the idea that this was all a nightmare and if I could finally just go to sleep, I'd wake up, I'd be okay and I wouldn't be a victim of sexual assault anymore.

But I was wrong. Denial. Denial. Denial.

I remember finally having the tiniest bit of courage to tell my mom. I remember thinking to myself, "I don't know what to do, where to go, when this would go away or why this happened" but what I did know was who to turn too. My mom.

Mom - There's not a day that goes by where if it wasn't for you, in that moment and countless others, I don't think I'd be here. As tough as it is for me to write that, say that, even think that, it's true. You helped me in my darkest of days and showed me that my future days can be nothing but bright. I owe so much of my happiness to you so thank you. Thank you for not only being my mom but my friend, my guidance, my go-to and ultimate role model. You are everything to me.

My mom knew what to say, what to do and where to go. I knew the words, "you need to go to the hospital or tell someone" were going to come out of her mouth. I hated the thought, I hated the idea, I hated everything about it. But I knew somewhere deep down inside of me, it was the right thing to do. To be honest, the rape was bad but having to relive it all again while explaining my story to the nurses and doctors may have been worse than the actual act itself. Up until I was sitting on that hospital bed, teeth chattering, stomach in an endless pit, the denial was constant. But as I sat there alone, dazed, fragile and confused, I knew it wasn't a nightmare, it was real.

Every mumble that I tried to get out was a realization that I didn't know what was going to happen to me next. Will he find me? Will I be okay? Will I get through this? Will I even make it to tomorrow? I wish, at the time, I could see how I am now. Happy, confident, healthy, one of the best versions of me that I could ever be. I knew I had a long road ahead and that maybe (hopefully) I'd be okay. But it's hard to look for the light when all you suddenly see is darkness.

I spent my summer in just pure sadness. I wasn't myself: I was mean, I was pissed at the world, and I was still in denial at times. The thing with rape is that it never really goes away. You can be okay and get through this awful thing that happened to you but small things will trigger the memory and you'll want to ignore it. But sometimes you have to accept it, at least try to accept it, and keep moving forward. I continued to ignore the truth when I went back to school that fall because it was easier to feel nothing than to feel anything at all. Until November came, then the denial was slowly fading and the anger was at its highest.

If you know me, you know that I'm not afraid to talk about what happened to me. Many people have reached out to me about what happened to them or what my story was, and I couldn't believe how many people that I've helped. Just by simply having a conversation with them, letting them know they're not alone and everything in-between. The more this topic is talked about, the more people will share what happened to them and they'll know that it's way more prevalent than they think. Speaking out is hard but trust me when I say it's worth it.

I decided to fully share my story in a six-part series. Denial was part one and if this story caught your attention, stick around for part two. And if you're reading this and ever feel alone - please reach out. People want to help, you just have to let them.