Getting through the Storm

“Right now, you aren’t making difference between fantasy and reality.” I look at the counselor, not so convinced.

The reality of what happened, it’s engraved in my memory, in every scar on my skin, in every night I wake from nightmares. What does she know?


That was 2 years ago, when I went to a counselor, to get help so that I wouldn’t want to drink all the time anymore. It helped, even though I never told her that the main reason that I want to drink is the broken memories I had of my rape, and trying to move on as if it never happened.


People are learned constantly that we need roots. Familiar things. That in a hard situation you have to try to contain your life in normal routine. When we get into a situation which is hard but we have no control over, we hold onto what we know, until the storm passes.

But no one tells you what do you do if the storm doesn’t pass.


Let’s rewind a bit.

That summer.  Continue reading


{Just a Rant}

So I saw something today that reminds me of how I felt when my SA happened, one of them anyway and I can not have the patience to edit.

This is what came out of it, and by extension, this isn’t really a post, this is just to get this out somewhere, without shape and color and size, without order, dirty and messy and meaningless like it was. This is for nobody and nothing, this is just how it was.


…alone, alone, night, laying on the cold floor, him throwing out a condom aside, dirty, dark, cold, stripped, laying on the floor for what feels like forever, naked, weak, humiliated, disgusting… Continue reading