Silent Cry for Help
First, let me start by saying if you are struggling with mental health, talk to someone. Friends, family, co-workers. I wish I had that courage when I first struggled. Now, my story.
I was 17 years old when my self love diminished. Being sexually assaulted changed my last years of high school and college. I will not go into details of what happened to me, but I will say I thought the world was against me. Law enforcement was not supportive, my parents wanted to ship me away to my grandparents, and my high school peers thought I made the whole thing up. I feel into deep depression. I locked myself in my room, did not eat, cried 24/7, through family pictures against the wall, took part in self harm. I hated myself. Why? I guess looking back, it was because I blamed myself and confused help from others as being unheard.
Fast forward to college. Being sexually assaulted is a trauma I wish nobody has to experience. I used that experience by losing appreciation for my mind and my body. I used sex as a way to cope. It took a night of me waking up strapped to a bed to realize, I need help. I went to a therapist for the first time. It was terrible. They did not hit the root cause for my actions. It felt like they avoided the conversation. Finally, I talked to my parents about everything. They had no idea what I was going through and wanted to make sure I knew home is always there for me. I went from wanting to run away from home after graduation to not wanting to be anywhere else besides home.
I moved home. Mental health was still a struggle. The men in my life mistreated me. I blamed myself AGAIN. Saying “how could I let this happen”. My relationships were physically abusive and emotionally abusive. My parents and friends had this image of me that I had it all together. I was successful at 24, studying for my MBA, I was doing well. On the outside.
After trying 3 therapists, I finally found one who was good for me. At 26, I saw a therapist who really wanted to dig down to the root cause of what happened and why I acted the way I did all these years. I never had someone who wanted to make me love myself again as much as her.
Now, I’m 27 years old. I go through highs and lows of feeling like I’m on top of the world to feeling like I’m unworthy. I was diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety, and my therapist is working to help me cope with paranoia. I am still working on these issues and becoming more self aware. Being in a social setting sometimes gives me anxiety attacks. It is all very scary.
I want to share my story because I want others to understand that although someone looks happy on the outside, they could be suffering on the inside. We all have a different way of coping and hide our struggles differently.
