Depression.

Stage four: Depression.

I've contemplated with myself on if I should hold back some details but what's the point in that? I started this series to help myself but now that it's helping others, I don't feel like this is a time to hold back. Not for me and certainly not for others that are reading this. I knew from the moment I decided to write these chapters from my life, depression wasn't going to be easy because lets face it, depression never is.

I still find myself walking down the street, sitting in a class room or even if I'm just hanging out with my friends, that I still get depressed when I think back about what had happened to me. It never really goes away and frankly, I don't think the depressed staged ever will. Yes, I'm okay and yes, I have gotten through this difficult time in my life, but when I really think about everything that happened in that particular time, a small part of me still does feel depressed. There was a time though when it was uncontrollable, or so I thought.

To me, I didn't think that anything else could go wrong. I was raped, I left school, I was miserable and I didn't know what the hell I was doing. They say when it rains, it pours. I felt like I was caught in the middle of a tsunami. My boyfriend, at the time, had broken up with me in the midst of this mess I was trapped in, and that's when I think I just went numb. I didn't think life could get any worse at that point and I didn't see how it could possibly get any better. So there I was. I was raped, I left school, I was miserable, I was no longer in a relationship that I thought, at the time, was never going to end, and now I really didn't know what the hell I was doing.

The most vague memory I have during that time was right after the break up happened. I remember driving and shaking the whole way home. The drive felt over an hour long but in reality it may have been 15 minutes. I pulled into my driveway, eyes puffy, tears pouring out of my eyes and trying to get any bit of strength to move my body out of the car and into my house. Once I finally made my way through the doors of my house, I just collapsed. Seriously. I collapsed on my living room floor right in front of my mom and brother and I thought that this was it. I wasn't going to get through this, this has to be the end for me. To be completely honest, I felt like I was in danger. I was scared that I would hurt myself, I was scared that someone else would hurt me, I was scared of anyone and anything around me. The last thing I really remember from that day was looking at my mom and saying, "You need to watch me at all times or I will do something to myself."

Although at times I felt like I was an animal in a zoo being watched all the time, I knew it was the right decision. When you're depressed, all you want is to be alone. You don't want to talk to anyone, you don't want to be around anyone, you don't want any sort of human interaction. And all of that was true for me but I knew if I were left alone, I wouldn't be here writing these chapters today. There were many times that I thought of ways to end this nightmare I was living in but somewhere deep down inside of me, I felt like I could get through this. I didn't know how, I didn't know why, but I just knew it was possible.

My mom tried getting me out of the house any chance she could. Going for a walk around my block, going to the grocery store, going through the carwash, visiting my sister at school, literally anything. At the time, I didn't think any of this helped, I honestly thought it was pointless. At that point, not many people from my hometown knew I was taking a semester off, let alone why so when I did go out in public, I felt the stares and I knew the talking was bound to start. But the fresh air, new scenery, and getting out of my bedroom that I spent countless hours and days in, definitely helped. Even if I didn't realize it back then.

There was another time where I felt like I couldn't take it anymore. I locked myself in my bathroom, sat on the floor and just cried for hours. There were constant knocks on the door and me responding back, "I'm fine, I'm not going to hurt myself." But there were times when that was just a lie that was coming out of my mouth. My sister kept talking to me through the door and a majority of the time, the uplifting words she was saying were not processing whatsoever, I just didn't want to listen. But when she said, "If I lost you, then I'd be nothing without you" those words couldn't have planted a more significant meaning inside my head. I finally let her in the bathroom and I remember her sitting across from me, full of fear but still kept telling me it would all be okay. That's when I stopped thinking of myself and started thinking of others around me. I could have ended this temporary problem so many times but the hurt that would be left behind for all the people that cared for me, it steered my mind in a different direction.

Going to see a psychologist wasn't what I wanted to do but I knew it was something that I needed to do. It takes time to put your trust in others and to find the right person to talk about your struggles with but when you do, you can feel a sense of hope and relief. You don't feel so crazy, you don't feel so misguided, you don't feel like you are the only one that has felt these emotions, and you don't feel as alone anymore. I could finally feel myself slowly but surely getting back on my feet. I was talking about my feelings, I was doing well in my online classes, I knew that I had a long way to go but I was making some moves in the right direction.

Then there was an abrupt halt. I had people that knew the true story of what happened come to me and say I left school because of the recent break up I was in. It wasn't one person or two people, it was multiple people telling me on multiple occasions. I felt like I finally took a few steps forward but then I took 3,568 steps back. I knew that I wanted to eventually tell the truth but I didn't think I'd have to start so fast nor did I really want to. But I would be damned if I let people think I left school because of a failed relationship that I didn't end, and be blamed for something that wasn't my fault.

Like I said in the first chapter, I experienced all these stages in order but they do come back to haunt you. I was depressed but then I felt the anger building up again, I was in full rage mode. I'd even catch myself, many times, bargaining with myself over anything and everything. The thoughts of ways to end this living nightmare kept reappearing again and again. I felt like I was right back where I started and my progress was put on pause. But then I thought to myself, this isn't going to be easy. None of it was going to be easy if I didn't start being honest, not only with myself but with others.

One day, I grabbed my journal and made a list of the pros and cons about opening up to everyone about being raped. And when I finished, surprisingly, I had more pros than cons. I still felt uneasy about what would happen if I told others but I felt like I was ready. Ready to tell the truth, ready for others to know the truth, ready to not be blamed for things that I had no control over, I was ready.

I spent days deciding on how I would tell everyone, when I would do it, where I would do it, every little detailed mattered to me. I figured social media was my best bet because everyone these days is scrolling, liking, commenting, etc. Once I had everything put together, all I had to figure out was when I would actually press ‘post.’ I knew I was going back to school in a few weeks to take my final exams, and I wanted to go there with my story already posted because then everyone there would know the truth. I knew I wanted to post my story before I started to think twice about not posting it. I knew if I didn't post my story soon I would hear more rumors being spread about me. I knew I needed to post my story sooner rather than later.

After about a month of seeing my psychologist, I felt like I didn't need that support anymore. She helped me in ways I could never accomplish on my own, but I also felt like I needed to start trusting and relying on myself or I wouldn't ever get through this on my own in the months and years to come. Right before my last appointment, I finally decided when I would post my story on social media. I walked into my psychologist's office and sat there waiting to be called in. I had my post written out and the only thing I had left to do was actually go through with pressing that ‘post’ button. Once she called my name, I hit the ‘post’ button, shut my phone off and went in. And in that exact moment, the biggest weight instantly came off my shoulders. I didn't feel scared, I didn't feel alone, I felt like I did something right. I finally reached the acceptance stage.

I posted my story on April 4, 2016. Two years later, here I am on April 4, 2018, writing for me, writing for you, writing for anyone that doesn't feel like they have a voice. When I first posted what happened to me two years ago, I never thought I would be writing my story in full detail years later. I thought I just needed to say what happened once and everything else would be fine because I finally said something. But what I actually realized is that you can't just talk about rape once. You need to keep talking, you need to keep fighting, and you need to keep raising awareness.

To anyone that is going through depression, for whatever reason, please don't ever give up. Don't ever feel like you're not worthy, don't ever feel like you're not good enough, don't ever feel like you won't get through this stage in your life. You are worthy, you are good enough and you will get through this stage in your life. There will be days when you don't want to get out of bed and that is okay, it's okay to not be okay. But realize that tomorrow is a new day, a new chance and a new possibility. Life is full of lows but when you try to see that light at the end of the tunnel, you'll realize that you have the strength to pull through and experience those highs in life. Trust me, I've been there. Trust me, it gets better. Trust me, life is worth living.