sight_unseen
1. Adults are not to be trusted
2. Pain is not temporary
3. Selfishness and selflessness can overlap
4. Nobody truly sees children
5. Sleep is not restful
6. Reading can be like running away.
.
.
.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
Trigger warning: sexual assault, suicidal thoughts, depression, self-harm
It has happened to someone you know. Someone you know has done it.
There has been a lot of talk lately of sexual assault and the violence women face on a daily basis. Every woman knows, every man does not.
RAINN has statistics explaining that every 73 seconds in America someone is sexually assaulted.
It happened to me.
It was St. Patrick’s day. I had gone out with two friends of mine and friends of theirs. We went to a fundraiser for a mutual friend and then to a bar. I had had a lot to drink. At some point in the night, my friends decided that their friend “J” and I would be a “good match”. My two friends had decided to call it a night and left the bar without me after “J” told them he would bring me home.
I did not know they left me there or I would have gone with them but that decision was taken from me.
“J” told me that my friends had left but that he had to take me home. He then told me that his roommate needed a ride so we would be going to his house. He then told me that I could spend the night and sleep on his couch. At 2am, drunk, couches sound pretty appealing. We got to his house, we visited in the kitchen, and we decided to go to sleep.
There was no couch.
I was 19.
At this point I was so tired and I just wanted to sleep. He said that I could just share his queen bed and he would take me to my friend’s house in the morning, and drunk me agreed.
Rape doesn’t just end when their hands leave your body. The feeling of those hands has stayed with me.
I have chronic insomnia, I have attempted suicide three times, anxiety and depression are my constant companions, I have disordered eating, and my self-esteem is on shaky ground. It has been 9 years since that night.
It wasn’t until my counsellor at university pointed out to me that good people don’t lie about having couches for drunk friends to sleep on that I started to let myself off the hook a little bit for everything that happened.
My favourite colour used to be green but for years after I said it was blue because the thought of green made me feel sick.
I can’t tell you how many nights I have spent up all night, waiting for morning to come so that I can feel safe enough to sleep in my own bed, or how many days I’ve showered more than three times trying just to feel clean again. I have a very good memory and my subconcious used that to my own detriment to create hyper-realistic flashbacks for me to relive when I closed my eyes.
St. Patrick’s day will maybe never be a celebration for me. Having your air cut off by your own shamrock necklaces can have that effect on a person.
I’m not telling this because I want your pity or your well wishes. I’m telling you this so that maybe you no longer see rape and sexual assault as one moment in a person’s life. It’s not just a physical recovery. I’m still feeling the ripple effects of that stone thrown in the pond.
I don’t feel safe at night out walking. I don’t go to bars alone. I don’t drink alcohol on dates.
Sexual assault is any non-consensual act. My story is not the only version, but there are countless similar ones out there.
If every 73 seconds someone is being sexually assaulted, then every 73 seconds someone is sexually assaulting. Don’t be that someone.
Be an ally: No means no. Practice explicit consent- only yes means yes. “Maybe later” is not yes. “Not now” is not yes. “I don’t feel like it” is not yes. Teach your friends; teach your children. Call out the behaviour when you see it. Rape jokes are not funny. Believe people when they say they’ve been assaulted. “Not all men” is not a valid argument. Don’t assault people.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
If you or someone you know needs support right now, there is help available.
Trigger warning: suicidal thoughts
From where I stand, the future looks nothing but daunting. It’s hard to remember the good at the end of such a terrible year. Each disappointment and struggle seems like a heavy stone in the backpack of life that I insist on carrying around.
The weight has pulled me off the podium I stood on at the start of the year and dragged me to where I teeter on the edge. Will I be just one more casualty of this year? It seems more appropriate to close my eyes for good when it’s still a terrible year, instead of souring a new one.
People are looking toward 2021 with hope, so much hope. All I feel is dread. Once the new year starts, my life has nothing left for me to do but to be tugged along with the passing of time. I have a degree, a license, a job, a life, and a home. I’ve lived so much life in these years, I don’t feel accomplished, I just feel old.
My friends are all moving on. They have their own lives. They have relationships, pets, children, homes, and triumphs. They look forward to adventures, to new beginnings, and to a future. Joy and love fill their lives with so much colour. I’m glad for them and envious at the same time.
I can’t feel the colour in my life anymore. I’ve learned how to avoid disappointment by avoiding expectations and hope. Each day is a consistent defeat in itself, why add to it? Food is bland, tea is lukewarm, sleep is fitful, and warm is never warm enough.
A bleak winter’s day with thin sun and glaring brightness is my reality. Nothing has colour and everything is too bright to be enjoyed. The trees are bare and the wind whistles enough to chill my bones. It is silent except for my trudging foot steps. I pass houses with warm light shining from festively decked windows and see smoke from what I imagine to be a warm fire inside. These houses are not for me. I have never been inside one, nor will I ever know the love and joy bottled within them.
My chest aches with the cold, the emptiness, and the loneliness. It is as familiar to me as my breath and the beat of my heart.
Despair.
Sorrow.
Hopelessness.
I used to long and now I find myself longing no more. I don’t want to find the energy to enjoy life. I’d rather fade away into this bleak winter’s day and never trouble the sunniness of a new year.
Maybe in another lifetime I’ll see colour again and find the warmth. That, too, seems daunting but it’s the only hope I cling to, the hope that lies in death. Hope that death will be kind to me as this life hasn’t been.
I’d like to fade away in sleep, though rest is something I never find at night. Perhaps that is the secret to the kindness of death. Dying instead of sleeping doesn’t feel so daunting after all.
.
.
.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
If you or someone you know needs support right now, there is help available.
There’s the me I try to be; the good friend, the kind daughter, the responsible sibling, the honest citizen.
Then there’s the me I know.
There’s the me inside my head. The me who doesn’t always want to live. The me who flakes on her friends. The me who drinks to escape. Bisexual me. The depressed me. The anxious me. The suicidal me. The introverted me. The self-harming me. The me who needs to be in control. The me who lives in the past. The incomplete me. The me who lies.
I live a different life than the me inside my head does. I see me when I can’t get out of bed, when I can’t make myself shower for a week; the me who can’t bear to wash the dishes. I see me when I pull away from my friends and avoid making plans. I see me when I isolate myself from people who care about me because I feel unworthy. I see me when I reach out to people because I feel like I’ll fade away without the attention. I see me when I skip meals and when I binge eat. I see me when I’m having a panic attack. I see me failing. I see me fading away. I see myself judging others. I see myself drowning.
I see the child me who just wanted to be loved. I see the kid me trying to compromise with divorced parents. I see the young me who raised her siblings. I see the teenage me who just wanted to fit in. I see the adult me who kept trying to die. I see the naïve me who was raped at 19. I see student me who failed classes because I couldn’t get out of bed. I see me now, still trying to referee my family and putting myself in the middle. I see the me who can’t fit into any of my clothes anymore.
I see the me who desperately wants to connect with others but who spends my life hiding from others.
The me who just wants somebody to see me, while hoping nobody actually sees me.
Nobody else sees the me that I know.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
I’d be lonely.
Friends would become acquaintances.
People don’t actually care how you’re doing even though they ask.
It’s not cool to care.
Saying no is good for you.
Coping skills are important.
Anxiety is real.
Honesty isn’t valued.
Depression will talk to you.
Loneliness can drown you.
Forever doesn’t really mean forever.
Politics do matter.
You do get to choose your family.
People are selfish.
The loudest voices win.
Self-harm isn’t only one type of behaviour.
Cynicism is a defence mechanism.
Depression and anxiety cloud your judgement and make you believe lies are your only reality.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
Sight Unseen 