3 Year Anniversary of Rape

Saturday marked 3 years since the day I was raped. 3 years since everything changed, in the past 3 years I have had so many accomplishments and setbacks, I have gone to treatment to deal with the trauma and even opened some doors to things that I have repressed over the years. I have worked extensively in therapy to get to where I am today. Saturday was a really hard day for me I woke up to yet another terrible nightmare of that night with Cameron. The nightmares haven’t gotten any better in 3 years time. The flashbacks however have eased quite a bit, I can control them a bit better now (sometimes). When I feel a flashback coming on I can begin grounding myself, distracting, preparing for what will happen. It’s taken a lot of hard work to get to where I am today, and maybe one day with continue treatment I can be completely okay again.

I’ve spent the weekend away visiting a friend who was in treatment with me a few states over. It has been a good distraction from all the trauma. We went to a sexual assault survivors group and I got to share my story about the rape, it was so empowering to be able to stand up and recall the events and not experience a flashback. To be able to stand up and say I was raped aloud is something 3 years ago I never imagined happening. I’ve made so much progress since the first year it happened, I’ve struggled with accepting it happened, forgiving myself and realizing it wasn’t my fault. But today I can say I know i didn’t deserve it, I can say no matter what happened, what I did, whether I kissed him back or not, I am not to blame for being raped. I can say “Cameron raped me” and retell my story without getting physically sick or flashing back and that is healing!

In the group we discussed the worst aspects of the assault, some women talked about the actual rape itself, others said it was what the rapist said. But for me the worst part of the rape was how he broke my trust by raping me. The thing is I don’t think of Cameron as a bad guy, even to this day I think of him as the Cameron I knew and adored. The Cameron who tried to protect me from Cody. The Cameron who help clean me up after Cody punched me in the face and gave me a bloody nose one evening. I think of the Cameron who spent his entire senior year raising money for children less fortunate, even though he was only required to do it for a semester. The Cameron who was well dressed and polite, the night of our date before he raped me. Who opened the door for me and brought me a single sun flower because he knew it was my favorite. I think of that Cameron and it gives me such conflicting feelings because I hate what he did to me but I don’t hate him.

Cameron stole my sense of trust and safety I felt with him. Because of what he did I fear not only strangers but those close to me. I fear what some of my best guy friends can do to me. Cameron violated my trust in him, he took away the feeling of knowing your safe with someone. I think that’s the worst part of all of this.

Since going to treatment I have been more open about what happened to me. I have joined Sexual Assault Survivor Groups and shared more of my story. 3 years ago when it first happened I was so afraid to tell anyone and now I share my story because it’s important for people to hear. I am not ashamed of what happened to me, I know I didn’t deserve it. I only hope by me sharing my story I can help someone else. If you’re reading this and you were recently sexually assaulted, just know that you can heal from this. You will heal from this! It’s not going to be easy, there will be days when it hurts like hell and it’s the first thing you think of in the morning but then there will be days when it’s the second.

I was molested as a child; I kept the secret for 15 years

I have contemplated long and hard about whether or not to post this. The followers of this blog know in great detail about the rape I encountered and the domestic violence I went through before that. I have always been so very open and honest on this blog. I created this blog as away to sort out of my thoughts and express my feelings about what I was going through. I feel it is only right to share this secret I have kept hidden for 15 years of my life, this is something that only two people in the entire world right now know. My therapist being one and my best friend being the other. This trauma came to light during an intense EMDR therapy session discussing the first time “I felt it was all my fault”. (We we’re going back to the root of the feeling which led to this secret being exposed).

I was sexually abused as a child from ages 8-10 and then again at the age of 13. I never forgot it happened, I’ve known it occurred and remember the details greatly. However I managed to pushed them down and bury them somewhere within me so that no one could ever see. I managed to keep it hidden from my family, friends and many therapists I’ve seen. Lately the memories have been arising and every time I just somehow managed to shove it back down, however during EMDR the memories came blasting back and I could not close them away anymore. And so I told my secret to my therapist last week.

When I was 8 years old, 5 months after my eldest sister died, on July 4th 2003 I was at summer camp. I had begged my parents to let me go for 2 full weeks, my camp counselor that year was Nathan. He had just turned 16 and a close friend of the family. He went to church with us and had 4 brothers one around the same age as me. Everyone knew I had a huge crush on Nathan. He always had a nice tan, shaggy brown hair and green eyes. Nathan had taken a liken to me after my sister died earlier that year.

It was the 5th day of summer camp, Friday July 4th, we were playing outside waiting for the fireworks and I tripped over my flip flop falling, scrapping my knee and elbow. I ran to Nathan who jolted to action and picked me up carrying me to the infirmary room. He sat me on the bed and told me how brave I was for not crying, I told him “I’m not a little kid… I’m a woman!” (That year I wanted to be a movie star and always ran around acting like I was somebody important.) Nathan laughed, he placed his hands on my thighs and got really close to my face, he said “You know you’re right! You practically are an adult! I should tell you this secret that’s only for adults but you can’t tell anyone.”

I promised him I wouldn’t and he bandaged up my elbow then asked me to lay down on the table to clean up my skinned knee. I was wearing a pink and white polka dotted bikini (we were playing in the sprinklers) he was cleaning up my knee when he said “Are you sure you want to know?” I begged him to tell me he then told me he really had to show me so I told him to go ahead. He slipped his hand down my bikini bottoms and began touching me, it hurt and I didn’t know what to do. I just froze and laid there. I felt sick to my stomach, I was always told to never let anyone touch me there but was never told what to do if anyone did. Nathan continued touching me and then he stuck his other hand in his pants fondling himself.

I can still remember hearing the fireworks go off, smelling the sunscreen and bug spray from his body, feeling his fingers inside of me. When he was finished he took a towel and wiped himself off, then picked me up and stood me on the ground. Told me “Remember it’s a secret you can’t tell anyone.” He walked me back outside and we watched the fireworks. That was the first time he touched me, that summer he would continue to do it multiple times throughout my stay at camp and then rape me the following winter. Nathan made it to where he had full access to me anytime he wanted that year and no one suspected a thing. I still kick myself for not saying anything, for not telling anyone. I was just a child.

My Rapist Got Married

This week I made some really poor choices to say they least. Friday I found out via text that Cameron (my rapist) had gotten married to his girlfriend/fiancé of only 6 months. I relapsed and self harmed for the first time in 72 days. I went into a manic episode where I decided visiting my rapist and confronting him was a good idea and nearly got arrested for drunk driving. And during EMDR therapy brought up some repressed memories from my childhood.

Monday, I had a very intense 2 hour EMDR session with my therapist where we worked on memories from my rape. It was a really hard day that proceeded to get worse, my old roommate Alyssa had texted me and asked if I had heard the great news? Unaware of the news I asked what it was in which I received a picture of Cameron dressed in a black suit, smiling that perfect smile, looking at his newlywed wife with those icy blue eyes that are forever engraved into my memory. Happy. Below text written out “Cameron got married!!”

I immediately dropped my phone and went into a very intense flashback. I haven’t seen Cameron in quite a while and to have a picture on my phone, in my home, many miles away from the place the rape occurred nearly 3 years ago, triggered a very real and intense flashback. I couldn’t get a grip and ended up picking up a knife from my kitchen counter and began slicing open my thighs until the flashback ended. (I haven’t self harmed since I returned from Residential Treatment nearly two months ago.)

As I sat trembling covered in blood on my kitchen floor trying to breathe, I began to fall apart. Part of me felt furious that Cameron the man who raped me and two other girls after. The man who haunts my memories day and night- is happy, is married, is living such a great life after what he did. I hate him for what he chose to do to me. I don’t believe he deserves happiness or peace, he deserves to be punished for his sins. Another part of me felt relieved almost because now, just maybe he won’t do it again. Cameron is this suppose “godly man” die hard christian so if he’s married maybe he won’t hurt any other women. Maybe now the cycle of abuse is over, maybe now no one else will get hurt at his hands. Yet another part of me feels for his new wife, does she know about his past? Is she aware of what kind of man he is? Has he raped her too? Who could love a monster like him? I don’t know.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around it or sit with the feelings and so I do what I do best, avoid them at all cost. I began to down a bottle of wine as I cleaned up my cuts and mopped away the puddle of blood that accumulated. The wine soon turned to a bottle of tequila for it numbed the physical and emotional pain a bit faster. I eventually passed out and awoken the next day with a hell of a hangover and a lot of energy. I was in the early stages of yet another manic episode. (Since being back from residential I have been in a limbo of trying to find the right medication to balance my bipolar disorder with very little luck.) I spent the day going full speed jumping from one idea to the next. My mania kept me up all night and went to work, wired and overly enthusiastic. I went to therapy where my therapist stated I was obviously manic and asked me to call my psychiatrist. I refused and told her just like everyone else concerned with my behavior I was just overly happy and it was totally fine!

I then decided to go see Cameron after work. I texted Alyssa (who loves drama) and asked for Cameron’s new address, where I then drove 3 hours to his home. Oddly enough I wasn’t afraid or anxious, the mania made

me overly cocky and stupidly brave. I was greeted by his wife who let me into their home while she called for Cameron. He walked down the steps, his eyes met mine, confused and shocked he asked why I was there. I told him I just wanted to congratulate him on his marriage. I said “maybe this means you won’t rape anyone else”. His wife stood in shock and Cameron immediately denied my accusations saying he had never raped anyone. I reminded him of the night with me, began retelling my story detail by detail. He told me to shut the fuck up and so I of course amped the antics and reminded him of the two other girls he raped after me. Asked him if he was aware that Lindsey had to get an abortion because of what he did. He told me he never had to rape anyone, “everyone loves a piece of the cam man”- the same sick twisted shit he said the night he raped me. I got pissed and told him he was a coward, he could rape someone but not admit it when he was confronted. He told me to leave or he was calling the cops, so I told him I hope he rots in hell for his sins and I left to get back in my car.

Cameron followed after me shutting the door on his wife still inside. As I began to unlock my door Cameron grabbed my shoulder turning me around, he stood in front of me and began saying, “Bitch who do you think you are coming to my home? Saying that shit in front of my wife?” I told him she needed to hear the truth about the bastard she married. Cameron clinched his teeth and then said “I still think of you, your body McKenzie, that night you were so tight. You were the best out of all of the girls I enjoyed you the most, that’s why I took my time.” I told him shut the fuck up and pushed his hand off of me, called him a sick bastard and told him he was worthless. He continued and said, “I still

Fantasize about you when I’m making love to Ashlynne I think of you.” I couldn’t deal, it all just hit me. I could smell his cologne the same kind he wore that night, I puked which disgusted him and then he laughed telling me to never come back again. I got in my car and sped away. I got a couple miles down the road before pulling over again to get sick.

I downed my emergency flask of tequila I keep in my car and then decided to go to a bar. I got really drunk and had a great time dancing and making out with everyone. Mania was still alive and well so I embraced it and wanted to end the terrible day on a good note. The bar began closing up around 3am and so I stumbled out to my car. I was quite intoxicated and couldn’t properly back my car out of the parallel parking spot. A cop ended up pulling up next to me, I knew then I fucked up. He asked me to roll my window down and wanted to know if I had been drinking. I immediately began to cry and rambled on about the events leading up to this encounter with him. He had me get out of my car hand him the keys and asked me to sit on the curb. I was a hysterical mess at this point. He walked back to his car ran my license and then came over to me. He asked me if I could call someone to pick me up so I did and he let me go telling me to never ever think about drunk driving again. He reminded me how lucky I was for him to have not hauled my ass to jail for attempting to drive while intoxicated.

The next day I showed up to work late and ended up going to see my psychiatrist who put me back on lithium to balance out the mania. My manic episode soon dwindled and I immediately began working on UnFucking everything I managed to fuck up during this mania. It was one hell of a week thank God it’s over. I don’t plan to see Cameron ever again. I hope and pray he has changed, but highly doubt he will ever stop raping women. I am still overly disgusted by what he said and it continues fucking with me. I just wish I could forget everything, I just wish I could forget him.

This is healing… after residential

I spent 36 days in Chicago Illinois at a residential treatment center, where I went through hell, the center was definitely not the best. I spent 36 days working on trauma, alcoholism and eating disorder. I went through a lot while there and definitely would not recommend this place to anyone!

The treatment center I went to was definitely not the best, I expected more out of it than what I gained. The treatment center itself was not what saved me…I saved myself. They were understaffed, overworked and dysfunctional. Mid panic attack I had a staff look at me and say, “Could you please stop? Like get a grip.” They didn’t really address the problems we had they just kind of treated it like it was a sorority. I had multiple staff tell me that they didn’t get “paid enough for this”. My eating disorder was their main focal point, I was on a meal plan and required to eat a certain percentage of every meal or I had to drink a supplement. One good thing about that treatment center is their push for treating disordered eating. I managed to gain 20 pounds while there, I am at a very healthy weight now.

There was a lot of ridiculous rules such as no pacing which was very difficult for me since it was my go to coping skill. ( I literally got in trouble for pacing and was forced to change bedrooms to an isolated room where I was locked out from 7am-9pm every day) They didn’t really teach us new coping skills to replace our bad ones, they just kind of ripped away all of the ones we knew and told us to try radical acceptance. DBT was the biggest thing they pushed on us, and honestly I did not gain any successful DBT skills while there.

I saw a therapist 3 times a week, she was not the greatest therapist by far and we didn’t really click too well. We talked about the rape and domestic violence. The more we discussed Cameron the angrier I became. They had me on multiple medications for bipolar disorder, anxiety, sleep, depression, pills to make me gain weight etc. (The psychiatrist just pushed pills on people for literally everything) I was on 13 different pills at once. One particular medication they put me on for bipolar disorder did not do well with me. It made me “aggressive”, so with the combination of this medication and the pure rage I had for Cameron this resulted in me being hospitalized twice while there.

The first time I was hospitalized while at residential was because of an out burst two weeks before I was suppose to be discharged. I was on the phone with a potential PHP program trying to set it up when the staff told me phone time was over. I had to finish giving this lady my insurance number was literally on the phone for a minute after our “designated phone time” and got reprimanded.

It was a very unfair center where certain people were allowed to do things others were not. Example a lady who was self paid ($2000 a day) was allowed to be on the phone any time. I was trying to set up after care because the treatment center had yet to. (At the time of this incident I was suppose to be leaving in a week) I became outraged because what the hell? I went to my room where I began pacing to calm down, I of course got in trouble for pacing and was told to stop. I didn’t which resulted in the staff yelling at me and telling me I needed to stop pacing or I would be given an injection of Thorazine. I did not consent and told them I would not take it. They called the ambulance because I was being defiant and I was taken to the hospital. I was then sent to the worst mental institution I have ever been to on the west side of Chicago. This place was horrible and they treated the patients like shit. After 4 days of pure hell I called my residential center and asked to come back (any place was better than this place)

I returned only to endure more bull shit. There was a new resident who was severely autistic and the other women (grown women) were making fun of her. She couldn’t even comprehend that they weren’t her friends. I said something to the staff who said “worry about yourself”. I then made an announcement to the other residents during community and apparently annoyed everyone by doing so. I had one day left at the time before I was suppose to be discharged. On this particular day I was done with the bullshit obviously, I couldn’t deal with grown women making fun of an autistic woman. I couldn’t deal with the staff not giving a fuck and I certainly couldn’t deal with any more of this petty drama. I spent the majority of that day in my room and then the women who were in charge of our lodge came in and told me I was being moved to another lodge. I thought this was ridiculous because what the hell? I was suppose to be leaving the next day I wasn’t about to pack all my things, unpack and then pack again. They got mad cause I told them how ridiculous this was which resulted in the staff grabbing me by the arm and dragging me out the door. This infuriated me because I signed a form with them when I signed myself in that they were not allowed to lay hands on me. I was very upset about this and they once again got mad because I was being “defiant.” They put me in a hold where a man twice my size grabbed my neck and nearly choked me, they then injected me with Thorazine against my will.

I was sent back to the hospital where the doctor told me he couldn’t do anything with me no body wanted me, the residential told me they gave up on me, and I was left in the ER room by myself for 5 hours with just my thoughts. I felt so defeated like everyone had given up on me. Like there wasn’t any point any more. Suicidal ideations got the best of me and so I attempted to strangle myself with a cord. I passed out and was found shortly after. I was sent to another mental ward across town. This particular one was 100x better.

While at this hospital I met some incredible people who shared their stories with me. I saw a therapist every day while there and a dietician who continued to help with my eating disorder. We had these really informative groups that went over trauma, assault, stress, disorders, life…everything! I spent 7 days at this hospital and learned more there than I did in 30 days of residential. After being released from that hospital I was finally discharged from the terrible treatment center and was on the first flight out back to NC.

It has been one hell of a ride this past month, but I survived. I thought residential was going to be my saving grace, I thought that was going to be what saved me… but I realized I saved myself. I gave it my all, I pushed myself, I talked about what was going on, I did the program, I saved myself. It was definitely not the best experience and I didn’t gain what I thought I should’ve while being there, but I did what I thought I couldn’t do. I survived.

Receiving Treatment & Having Hope: the next chapter

“Doing something different offers a different outcome, and that is where hope lives.” This statement is what my therapist told me and is what has encouraged me to seek treatment. I have officially been accepted into two different treatment centers this week. One is in Illinois, the other is in the same state I am in. After some contemplating I have chosen the treatment center in Illinois. I fly out Saturday the 24th, I will be there for 30-45 days.

I’m beyond nervous about this huge step but I know I need it. I’ve never flown before…I’ve never really been that far from my home state so I’m extremely scared. I know treatment is really the only answer as of now. I know if I don’t seek help now I’ll regret it later. I know things aren’t going to get better until I actually begin to work on my trauma. I know right now I’m not in the most stable place and treatment will be the best place for me at this time. I also know I’m terrified and that’s okay, I know that it’s okay to be scared trying something new is the only way things will change.

Cameron stole a lot from me when he raped me, he stole my trust in men. My sense of security in my own home. My life as I knew it… Cameron fucked my life up he took so much from me and left me barely hanging on. He’s the reason I can’t sleep at night, he’s the reason I have grueling flashbacks that affect my daily life. He’s the reason I have ptsd and crippling anxiety. He’s the reason for much heart break and pain that I go through every day. There’s one thing he didn’t and couldn’t take for me and that was hope. I still have hope on my side. I still have hope that one day things will get better and as long as I have hope then there’s still a light at the end of the tunnel.

There’s hope with trying a different route. There’s hope with doing something different even if it scares the living daylights out of you. Hope is what I’m holding onto so tightly right now. Hope is the reason I’m trying. Because without hope I left with this fear that things will never get better. This agonizing fear that I’ll forever be broken, traumatized and fucked up. This fear that if this doesn’t work then I’m a lost cause, then I’m not worth saving. Hope is the only thing that is really keeping me going.

And so I’m doing this. I’m biting the bullet, I’m diving in, I’m giving it my all… I’m trying. I’m going to go into treatment for a month, in a different state, 661 miles away. I’m doing this for me. I’m doing this for the McKenzie I was before. For the person I once was, for the one who is fighting every day to just get through. For the part of me that still after all of this time, all of this trauma still has hope.

Tough Decisions and Residential Treatment; who am I without my trauma

So this week has been a lot. My psychiatrist dumped me as a patient which I’m not complaining since she nearly killed me with lithium poisoning. So now I have to find a new psychiatrist or just stay off all my meds (which is what I want to do.) Then my therapist and I met Tuesday for our weekly session which resulted in her telling me residential treatment is absolutely necessary at this point and I either go admit myself or lose her as my therapist. So I’m looking back into residential treatment programs the thing is financially I’m not ready for this. Mentally I’m not prepared, emotionally I’m not ready… I’m just really not ready for residential treatment. I do have a couple of places picked out that I may go to, I just have to do a phone assessment and see if I get approved after I jump through all their hoops for approval. I’m scared though really scared about all of this.

My parents want me to move back home. They think living on my own is making things worse. They want me closer to them which I’m not entirely against, I do miss my home town. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Either move back to my home town or stay where I am and go into residential. I really don’t want to do residential but my therapist is giving me no choice.

My coping skills with trauma has declined and I’m not doing well at dealing with everything this week. I began cutting again… I also have stopped eating. I lost 7 pounds in 3 days because of my restricting. I can see why my therapist is concerned but I just want to deal with all of this on my own, my own way. I don’t know I get that treatment will help and I get I’m not getting any better going the route I am. I’m just terrified of not knowing what will happen. Not knowing who I’ll be after I get out. Who am I without my trauma???

Lithium poisoning, progress and flashbacks

This week has been insane to say the least. Managed to make some progress in therapy, deal with some flashbacks, shift the nightmare, have a manic episode where I bought a bunch of fish and end up in the hospital for lithium poisoning.

During therapy we made some progress about the rape, I’ve managed to shift my nightmares where I’m watching what’s happening instead of being the one it’s happening to. I’m watching myself be raped which is weird but less scary in a way. So with this change we are now working on seeing if we can have it to where I intervene or walk away. Change the situation more so. I have also learned new ways to handle the flashbacks which is great and kind of a big deal.

I have learned that by getting up moving and shaking my hands out the flashback can end. I can stop it before it gets too far. I can jolt my body and system enough to where I can make it stop happening. Ice has also been my new go to ice melting or holding it so long it stings helps end them as well. This is all major because two months ago I couldn’t even think about stopping one and now I can stop them when I want and need to.

I was manic the majority of last week into this week so my psychiatrist decided to Up my lithium levels. She put me 600 mg 3 times daily I was only taking them for 3 days when I began feeling sick. My vision was blurry my hands were shaky and it was scary. My heart began to palpating while I was at work, I felt like I was going to pass out. The boss called an ambulance and I was hauled off. It turned out I had lithium poisoning so I was admitted to the hospital for a few days. It was scary stuff they had to bring my levels down drastically and on top of that I was severely dehydrated. Luckily the docs caught it just in time and reversed what was done. I think I’m going to look into alternatives for medication with managing my bipolar.

Blessing in disguise: the aftermath of rape, healing, and a failed attempt

I didn’t get approved for residential because of my eating disorder, at first I felt like a complete failure, like I wasn’t worth saving. However after some time to process I realized this isn’t true a bit. Just because I didn’t get approved for this one doesn’t mean I am a failure or I am not worth saving. Because of me being denied for this treatment center, I’ve really started dealing with my eating disorder and started seeing another counselor about it. I have already began gaining weight back, which scares me honestly but is a good thing.

I wanted to kill myself after finding out I didn’t get approved I attempted by slitting my wrist pretty deep I was too intoxicated to do much damage. My therapist and I have created a new safety plan just in case i get bad again. It was a really bad night and I regret my decision. I now have yet another scar which I hate. I hate that I made that rash choice to try to take my own life. I have so many people who care. When my friends found out they freaked and the next day I realized how poor of a choice Suicide is. I have so much to live for and I don’t want to die. I just want the pain to end and I want the easiest way to do that instead of trying, instead of really doing the work to heal. I have to put forth the effort in order to heal and I’m slowly realizing that.

During my regular therapy sessions I’ve managed to open up more about my trauma and I’ve made progress with the EMDR therapy which we are now doing twice a week. The EMDR has seemed to help with the nightmares, my nightmares have shifted to where I am seeing it from a distance instead of being under him. This is huge and something I am incredibly proud of. It may not seem like much but it is a big deal.

The flashbacks have worsen however, I am no longer self harming (or trying not to anyways) or drinking alcohol (7 days sober and counting). Self harm has been the biggest challenge so far, I tend to hurt myself either by cutting or ripping at already healed wounds to end the flashbacks and disassociation. This is something I have to try really hard not to do. I’m learning new ways to cope new ways to try to deal. I did mess up and relapsed last night, I cut my stomach and thighs with a razor to end the flashback. The flashbacks have been happening more and more. Lately I’ve had them 3-4 times a day which is exhausting.

In a weird way being denied for this treatment center has been a blessing if you will. I’ve started treatment with my eating disorder, I have dove into EMDR, I am making more progress day by day. Slowly I am learning to deal and healing. Healing is not easy but it will be worth it.

Not worth saving; psych floor and residential stay

I spent 14 days in the hospital on the psych floor after having some major suicidal ideations. I wanted to kill myself, I bought some razors and wanted to off myself. I had a plan in place and was ready to do it. My friends of course wouldn’t let me, I told my therapist who also prevented me from going. She gave me the option I admit myself or be admitted by her. I chose to go myself. It was scary but I needed it. I wanted to die because I had a flashback about the second rape. The one recently at the party. I saw his face and I couldn’t deal. Two faces, two men, two rapists. It’s too much.

After my stay on the psych floor my therapist insisted on a residential treatment center for help with my trauma, eating disorder, and alcohol addiction. At first I was completely against it however I am now kinda on board. I am sitting here now waiting to hear about whether I get accepted or not. I’m afraid they will reject me, if they do does that mean I’m a lost cause? If they tell me I’m too damage for them to help then what?

My therapist keeps telling me residential is the only thing left for us to try. Residential is really my last hope… if I get rejected what’s the point anymore. I’m a lost cause. A reject. A nothing. Not worth saving. Too damaged to help. This scares me and I’m not sure I can deal with the outcome if it’s a rejection. If they tell me I’m too damage, my eating disorder is too much, my suicidal ideations are too risky, I’m too much of a danger to myself… I’m afraid I’ll break and not be able to put myself back together. I’m afraid they will reject me and It will reenforce the thought process that I’m not worth saving.

Possible Residential Treatment &; A Really Bad Night

So a lot has been happening the past couple of weeks. My ptsd has gotten worse due to some new triggers, I have began drinking once more to deal with the flashbacks my nightmares have shifted and are worse than they were before. I’ve began self harming again and everything is just a lot. I have lost a lot of weight again, so my eating disorder has made its appearance. I’m trying to just get by day by day but things are hard really hard.

My therapist recommends residential treatment where I go and stay for 21 days in hopes of helping all of my trauma. I wasn’t about it at first however the night before last something really awful happened again. I was really drunk at a party, I managed to get plastered and some guy had sex with me in my black out drunken state. I don’t remember who or what happened. I woke up with no clothes, a black eye and blood everywhere in my lower region. I went to the hospital even though I was terrified. I got a rape kit done where it was obvious I was sexually assaulted.

I have tearing down there, bruising on my legs, and a black eye from the rape. Everything hurts and I feel like an idiot. I apparently drove my car sometime that night and wrecked it messed up the front fender really bad. I have no recollection of what happened which in some ways is good. I don’t know how to deal with all of this and I’m struggling to not want to kill myself honestly.

My new insurance doesn’t begin until February so I have to wait until then to be admitted to the facility. I’m terrified of being committed but this treatment center is top in class for dealing with trauma. I figured I’ll give it a shot at this point I don’t have much to loose.

My therapist has been amazing about all of this and continues to help guide me down the right path and even though I continue to make the same mistakes she hasn’t given up on me. It means a lot that I have at least one person in my corner. I don’t know what will happen from here I just hope it’s better than what I’m going through. So that’s all for now I’ll update more as I go.