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.

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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.

Progress, Set Backs, & Revelations; aftermath of rape, things get better

Over the past couple of months I have made some major progress in therapy. It definitely wasn’t easy by any means and I made some mistakes along the way. I decided I was going to really throw myself into therapy even though it terrified me. I learned quick that recovery and progress takes time and a lot of effort. Healing from trauma is not easy, trauma comes in layers and you have to peel each layer off one by one. It’s difficult and time consuming, it takes everything in your body to shed one layer but it’s worth it.

I was terrified honestly of healing what is broken, because for two years now my life has revolved around the trauma, without it I don’t know who I am anymore. It’s odd really I have almost become familiar with the trauma/ptsd symptoms… it’s as if without the constant panic attacks, flashbacks and nightmares, who am I? What do I do with a “normal life” that isn’t focused on the trauma? As much as I despise what Cameron did to me it has shaped me into the person I am today. I had to find myself again and I still am trying to piece it all together once more.

The process of recovery began by my Therapist asking me if I really wanted to move on from what was done to me. This led to me realizing that in some ways I felt I wasn’t worthy of being saved, of being helped. After I admitted this to my therapist she worked on helping me realize my worth.

With that I realized I am more than what was done to me, I am more than the trauma and the abuse I endured. I am more than another notch in Cameron’s belt of far too many girls whom he pried their legs open to take what he wanted. I am more than just another body, just another statistic, I am more than just another sad story. I am so much more and once I accepted that the real recovery began.

EMDR therapy is the most challenging thing I think I’ve ever experienced. It’s draining to have to go back to a memory from that night over and over again. However, it has definitely worked and I can honestly say some parts of that night do not haunt me nearly bad as they used to. I can mostly recall that night and not fall back into a flashback which is major and something I never thought I would be able to do. I am identifying more of what triggers me and really focusing on how things make me feel. Feelings are not my strong suit, so having to feel, having to be real has been a challenge. I don’t like to admit when things hurt me, I like to pretend I am emotionless and nothing bothers me… this has been difficult to change. I still catch myself saying everything’s perfectly fine, I’m fine, it’s good, great, amazing, when things are the exact opposite. I am still learning.

With all the progress came a lot of set backs, I fell back into my all too familiar ways of coping and dealing. I invited my old friend Vodka on this journey of mine and began drinking heavily once more. I also decided Anorexia would be a nice addition to the party and picked up my lovely eating disorder along the way. I was eating 300 calories a day and had dropped 20 pounds in just under two months, this of course was terrible given that I am already underweight for my height as is. The eating disorder was back in full swing and I began fainting more and more.

It seemed as though with every inch of progress I would make I would set myself back a foot with my poor coping skills. My therapist started noticing and began to ask if I was eating enough or if I was drinking again. (Honesty, apparently is kind of a big deal when it comes to healing) So I let her in which was difficult because I have a hard time letting people see my real struggles, I want to deal with it all on my own without the help of others. My therapist has been amazing with all of this and introduced me to an eating disorder clinician which in turn led me to meeting other women whom also share this struggle. As much as I was totally against it at first (and in denial) I showed up and spoke with them, still currently working on overcoming the eating disorder.

After going to work hung over (and a little tipsy) in the middle of the week, sipping a coffee with a shot of tequila in it and ultimately ended up hiding under my desk with sunglasses on for the majority of the morning, and then winging it (totally embarrassing myself) when it came to a very important business presentation, I realized the drinking was a problem. I decided to get back into AA. So I convinced one of my friends to attend the first AA meeting I’ve been to in 10 months. (Going strong with being sober for a grand total of 10 days now, it’s been difficult)

Between all the progress and set backs I also ended up having a complete manic episode that lasted 10 days, where I didn’t sleep for 4 days straight (only to crash for two hours and then repeat) During this I was on cloud 9, not sleeping, not eating and yet full of energy. I was convinced I could do anything, I ended up spending way too much money on unnecessary Christmas decor, repainted my home twice, started new hobbies such as pottery making, sewing, wood crafting, playing the guitar, and attempted to learn Japanese. The manic episode came with some really bad choices too such as kissing my best friends girl friend and sleeping with a married coworker. I ended up crashing hard from the mania two days after thanksgiving, of course this fiasco led to my Therapist, a psychiatrist and my best friends informing me I was bipolar. I didn’t want to believe it because I have enough labels as it is already but surprise I’m bipolar. On top of healing from the trauma I now get to deal with my new diagnosis of bipolar disorder which is frustrating, but like everything lately, I’m going to give it my all and strive to learn to cope with this disorder in the best way.

Revenge On My Rapist 

“The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.” Marcus Aurelius 

A couple of days before I left for my trip to Florida, I received a phone call from someone back home who knows about Cameron being a rapist and how he’s raped me and another girl. This individual is quite upset with what Cameron has done and reached out to me to discuss their feelings about him. 

Honestly, I didn’t know how to respond at first and then they said something that has stuck with me and now I can’t seem to shake it. This person told me, “Cameron needs to pay for what he did. Revenge is the only answer.” I didn’t really know what to say because for one, this person and I are not that close anymore. Additionally, I found it strange that they were so furious with Cameron’s actions. I mean don’t get me wrong, I honestly despise the guy. Cameron is the only person I truthfully hate, however I am a bit intrigued by this random persons sudden hatred for him. I am too afraid to really ask why this individual feels this way… I don’t think I want to know the answer. They had this elaborate plan to seek revenge upon this rapist (which was kind of genius and a bit intense). It’s been over two years since I was raped and a year and 9 months since the other girl (I know about) was raped by him, so it’s quite odd that this person is now seeking revenge. I told them I would have to think about it and get back to them because honestly I just didn’t know. 

While in Florida, I was hoping a change of scenery and the fact that I was 500 miles away from the state I was raped in, I possibly could get away from all things related to Cameron. I wanted a break from the daily torment I’ve been living in for over two years now. I just wanted to not think about him, to not have any panic attacks or flashbacks or nightmares. Obviously, that’s not how this works and my first night there I awoken to yet another nightmare about Cameron. This pissed me off more than anything, I became so freaking mad about the fact that I was on vacation and he was still ruining my day. I mean I knew logically that I probably was still going to have panic attacks/flashbacks about the rape while there, but still it made me mad. 

This of course led me to thinking about the conversation I had prior with the person from back home about seeking revenge on Cameron. I mean, I hate him for everything he did. I hate him for his choice to hold me down and rape me. I hate him for making me feel like it was my fault. I hate him for sabotaging the trust I had for him. I hate him for all the nightmares and flashbacks he causes me. I hate him for making my old friends turn against me. I hate him for ruining my life and fucking me up so much. I hate him for ignoring my pleas and most importantly I hate him for not owning up to it. I just wish he would own up to it and admit what he did was rape. I wish he would just apologize. Is that stupid to want your rapist to just apologize? 

Lately, I have been fueled with this anger and resentment towards him. Part of me, wants to hurt him in ways that he hurt me. I have thought about the whole revenge thing and how maybe an elaborate plan to seek out justice is suitable. However, I don’t think it would do any good. Honestly, the revenge I really want is something I can’t physically inflict upon him… what I want is for that night to forever scar his memory and I want him to feel remorse for what he did. 

I want to be the one who haunts him day in and day out, I want him to never forget my face or forget what he did. I want him to be so disgusted with himself over his choice to rape me that he can’t stand to look at himself in the mirror. I want him to lay awake at night and regret his actions. I want him to lose sleep and become physically sick by the mere thought of him raping me. I want him to plea with the heavens above for forgiveness for the awful thing he did. I want him to live his life with this terrible thing hanging over him and I want him to realize what he’s done. I want him to one day raise his future son to not be like him. I want him to talk about the horrors of that night with his head hung down in shame and beg others to not do what he has done. I want him to remind his buddies that when a girl says no that’s what she means. I want him to say he’s sorry and beg for forgiveness to me and any other woman he chose to rape. 

That’s the revenge I want for my rapist. 

Therapy, Recovery and Escaping: things are okay

I have came to a lot of realizations this week about everything really. Therapy has been so helpful and I’m slowly but surely making progress. As much as I despise opening up about my trauma I know I need to, I realized I’m never going to get over anything if I don’t make myself deal with it and feel all the emotions I’ve tried to repress about it all. 

I realized this past week that everything that happened with Cameron I have kind of stored into this box in my mind. I put all of the trauma that occurred and shoved it into this box trying desperately to keep it there. However slowly it began oozing out and with every bit, I tried to drown it with vodka or avoid it the best I could. This has led to where I am now, I currently have such a hard time reaching into the depths of this trauma box and pulling out bits to work on. Because when I do pull one thing out everything else seems to bubble over with it and then it becomes too much. I can’t work on one part of that night without everything coming back up and pulling me down with it. When one thing gets taken out and the others begin to come to the surface I shut down, I have a flashback or panic attack and freak. I go into a spiral and try to push everything back where it was with my obvious terrible coping mechanisms. 

This has been the biggest challenge with therapy and learning to face the trauma I’ve attempted to repress. I need to learn how to just take one thing out at a time and deal with it without being overwhelmed with all of the others. And so this week that is what I’ve spent doing. I did a lot of writing and spoke with Chris about some of the things I’ve tried to bury deep within. I have broaden my support group of people in my life recently. I’ve made some new friends who are really amazing. Chris introduced me to this girl named Ali who was also raped. Her story is eerily similar to mine, she went on a date and the guy raped her afterwards it led to this whole he said she said thing. Ali spiraled and turned to alcohol to cope she too tried all the terrible coping mechanisms to attempt to deal. Eventually realizing it wasn’t helping and ultimately finally given in to therapy and giving it her all in order to recover from the rape. Ali has been super great about helping me with some better grounding excercises and new ways to deal with everything. Having someone who too has been through the same thing to help talk about all of this with is the best thing right now. Ali shares her story so openly and honestly, she is no longer haunted as much by what was done. She spent a lot of time recovering and is still doing so but it kind of gives me a sense of relief knowing one day maybe I’ll be okay too. Maybe all of this won’t be as overwhelming. 

My support group of friends have been incredible lately and I honestly don’t know what I would do without them. I have decided to try once more with EMDR therapy again, I am at a point where I think I’m semi stable enough to take on all of that. Emdr is crucial to recovering from the rape but it takes a toll on me mentally, physically and emotionally. I want to try again with it and I want to give it my all.  Working on all of this is hard and trying to actually deal is even harder. I’m struggling a bit with this balancing act of juggling therapy and recovery, work stuff, going back to school and just being an adult. It’s all been a lot and I just need a break for a bit. So I have decided to take off with some friends for a week and just get away from everything and everyone for a while. I leave tomorrow morning for Florida and I’m actually excited to escape… to just take off.  It’s a much needed vacation and when I return in a week I hope to be better relaxed and level headed enough to throw myself back in EMDR therapy.  .