2. Starting recovery

Sometimes, you start the right thing for the wrong reason or for no reason at all. Sometimes in the midst of a nightmare, you find something to hold on to. In retrospect, the reason doesn’t matter. The reason has no meaning when that one thing is the one thing that keeps you holding onto life.

Until things get better. Or if they do.

         It’s the past August and I have just realized, my life is falling apart. I have just graduated, I have an internship at a great place, and I’ve just recently fallen in love with the perfect person for me(we are still together and crazy for each other)- so you can see how that would come as a surprise. But when you realize that you’ve stopped caring enough to brush your teeth or hair, food has become a chore, and you cry all the time…that has to give you heads up.

I’m breaking down. You’re too weak to deny it anymore. Continue reading


When I first started recovery, the whole process seemed close to impossible. It seemed I’m trying to get over the biggest most important time in my life, to get over a summer that was hell, that broke me to pieces, and left nothing behind to rebuild over. With time I learned to trust that may be I can get better, overcome it slowly. But it was always about changing myself, it was always about moving so much that I’ll never have time to feel that kind of hopeless, helpless pain of being caught in something over which I have no control and no option of doing anything to change it.

I was trying to overcome the idea of rape and all the other things that happened during this summer. I was never trying to make the summer seem just a bigger moment, because it wasn’t. I was never trying to see the guy as anything but monster, because I couldn’t even think that I will ever be able to do that. Forgiving him was never in the cards. I broke down, went through and started getting over the rape part. But I never intended to think about  him ever again.

But recovery has it’s own timeline and rules, and you never see them until you reach a new step.  Continue reading

1. Awareness

It all begins 5 months ago, which was exactly about 2 years after my SA.

There is no problem. I have no problem. Nothing really big happened that summer. I’m completely fine all the time. I mean minus the nightmares, not-sleeping, not-eating and feeling everything is completely pointless.

That first week back from working as an intern at a festival at the sea, I know something is changing in me. There is part of me that has enjoyed immensely the sea, the new people and memories, and that wants to save the experience and try to build from it. But there is the other part of me. The part I have pushed down for way too long. That festival, it has pushed me to the limit, and I can’t continue to deny what I have for 2 years.

 I can’t, but I have to. The free week I have until I’m back at work is enough to get myself together, or so I say to myself.

Tough love baby! I just gotta make it through few more weeks of work.

I’ve made it 2 years, swimmingly, this is a baby job, I can do it in my sleep.


That one week I circle the apartment like a ghost. I don’t call my best friend, or my other friends, they don’t even know I’m back yet. I go out to buy food, I skype with my partner who is then back at his city. I sleep and circle the apartment like a ghost, trying to get myself ready for the coming week. 

But I am not ready, not even a bit.  Continue reading