Change

"The only constant is change."

This year has been fucking crazy.

I started this blog and have connected with so, so many survivors. Starting this was the first time I really, actually, truly admitted my rape to myself, and many other painful experiences I never really allowed myself to feel. No wonder I felt like I was going crazy.

In addition to this site, I started another one to gain even more support from survivors and friends. I have also been working on getting a foundation started, a legitimate website up and running to advertise and raise awareness, money & support, and have been planning all kinds of fundraisers.

I've also told the men I work with (remember I work in an all-male environment... a construction company) that I was raped. They all have been so supportive and understanding while I've been struggling so much this year, and especially since my ER trip last month.

I was also planning to confront my rapist, but not anymore. When I was lying in that ER room, all kinds of tubes sticking out of my broken body, I knew it was done. It was over. It couldn't be more done if I tried. Look at where I was now... where I have been subconciously since the night I was raped:

trapped

held hostage

It's over.

I was raped.

WAS raped.

And now it's over.

I've come out of the closet this year.

No wonder I've been feeling out of whack, not myself, crazy, uncomfortable, edgy, terrified, sad, paranoid...

It's taken me years to admit my past is what it is.

And now that I have, it's time to move on.

I'm going to focus on getting my website and foundation up and running. And then will come the fundraisers and many other projects I shoved aside when I felt myself lose control months ago.

First and foremost, though, I have to focus on getting my body healthy again. She's been so broken for so long. I have to take care of her. I have many people who love and care about me more than I know, many people who have connections and will do anything to help me lead a healthy life again.

I don't have to do this alone. It's time I start letting people help me. It's okay to ask for help.

My boss's wife is a natural medicine doctor. She's offered me anything I may ever need free of charge, including acupuncture and massage to relax and heal my body. My brother is a chiropractor, so he knows many people through his work. And since my family has made their millions from farming, nutrition and health have always been priority. My family is really big in believing that our bodies really are our temples. I have all kinds of resources available to feed my body what she needs to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And yoga and walking for exercise until I am strong enough for the gym and running again.

I know I'm going to be okay.

You have to go through the bad to get to the good.

My rape is over. It's time for me to stop feeling so dead on the inside. Jay can't ever hurt me again. It's over.

It's time to get my life back.

High on Life

Kinda drunk right now, and watching some random MTV show about kids hooked on crystal meth.

All it makes me think about is doing some great, tasty lines of angel-white cocaine.

I haven't done coke in 14 months. A fucking world record for me. As much as my mouth is, literally, watering right now from missing my most favorite high, I WILL NOT break. Life already has me walking on a tightrope... I'll make it to the other side... slowly, but surely.. I'll make it over there.

I can't crack.

No more hard drugs.

But, OH MY FUCKING GOD, do I wish I wish I had a healthy eight-ball in front of me right now.

One more thing:

I miss him.

And I swear to you, Dear Reader, that I don't even know why I miss him... but I do...

I just have to let it all go.

I have to focus on getting myself healthy again, first and foremost.

Bottom line.

End of story.

It is what it is.

And that's that.

Take it day by day, Missing Link, day by day...

Dear Grandma,
Tell me one of his stories. Please give me his strength to put one foot in front of the other. Please, please meet me in my dreams again, and tell me what to do. ..

From My Heart

I don't know how to survive right now. I don't know how to muster up enough energy to make it through the days. I am completely thrown with health issues and while I know I have family and friends I can rely on, people who love me more than I can ever know, people who would drop their lives to help me live mine, I still have never, ever, ever felt more alone and deserted.

I am so tired.
Exhausted.
Beaten.
I am not well.

It is going to be a long and hard road to get my body healthy again. It's going to take a shitload of commitment and serious, hard-core routine doctor visits, a strict diet, medication, exercise & positive thinking to get myself healthy again.

I have never felt more
depleted
dry &
vaporized
in my life.

My mom and aunt spent the weekend with me, and just left earlier this afternoon. "It was nice to spend time with my old niece last night," my aunt said today. "The smiling, laughing, entertaining niece I've always taken care of."

It boils down to me not being able to take care of myself right now. I don't want to be alone. Because as soon as I'm all alone, no one here to distract me or talk to, the piercing truth of my reality cuts into my heart and soul. I so desperately wish I wasn't alone right now. I have to eat dinner and take my medicine, but I can barely keep my eyes open right now. I am so drained that I can barely think straight. I wish I wasn't alone. I wish I wasn't alone. I wish I did have the boyfriend-kind of love and support where I can trust, rely and feel safe when I need help making soup or taking a shower because I've been throwing up all night or freezing cold from another high fever.

I know I'm not alone.

But I am afraid you're wrong.

I'm alone right now.

I'm afraid I will always be alone.

This is, slowly but surely, becoming my reality.

I don't know what's happening, but I am not healthy, and I wish I wasn't here alone, living, working, not sleeping and not eating because I am just too wiped out to even take care of myself the way I desperately need to be taken care of.

But more than my body needs nourishment and continuous, careful care, the more my heart begins to hurt and cringe with shots of pain at realizing... feeling... regretting... that I'm going through, most likely, the roughest patch I've ever hit next to my rape. Even rougher than close family and friends dying. Rougher than revisiting the house I was raped in. Worse than knowing I have a really, long, hard road ahead of me is feeling like I may never get that kind of love and support from a man who will stand with me during times like these.

I am, after all, standing here... or should I say, lying here... all alone... again.

So tired.

Goodnight.