Last summer I had my 27th birthday.
That week during conversation my aunt had told me that age 17 was her best age, it was the time of her life.
For me, being 17 was the worst year of my life so far.
I was suffering from PTSD, panic disorder & depression.
Trigger warning: Rape, mental health, suicide.
School of life
When I was 17 years old, close to graduation,
I had quit school.
I needed to focus on my mental health. I needed to survive.
After a time of trying to act like nothing happened, after putting everything in a box in a closet far from my reach, ignoring every feeling, it finally hit me. I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
I was a rape survivor. My drink got spiked and I got raped.
Me. Gitte. A bad ass girl who feared no one, who was even feared by some.
I got raped.
It was my ‘first time’ you know.
That pretty much set the tone for every man I have ever been with. I have always thought I didn’t deserve respect because I wasn’t treated with respect. Girl was I wrong!
It’s funny, how I thought that now, 10 years later, I was over it.
But typing this makes me realizes that even though I am fine now, in the back of my soul it’s still there.
I was raped. And there is nothing that I can change about that.
I was violated in every possible way. My body was taken from me without my consent. My way of living was taken from me. EVERYTHING.
My drink got spiked with God knows what drug, and to this day I still have holes in my memory from that night. But maybe that’s for the best.
You know, was a popular girl back then, not in a mean girls way, I just was friends with almost everyone.
I changed from being miss social to miss anxious, to miss what the fuck is wrong with her?
And no one knew why, I didn’t tell anyone until years later.
I was ashamed that it happened to me, I blamed myself as so many survivors do.
So I stayed quiet.
Everyone thought that I had just lost it.
What’s wrong with her?? She’s not fun anymore.
Because I had severe ptsd I had to take a nice collection of medication to survive. And honestly those meds make you a zombie, you are living, but you’re not really there..
I have a long period of that time that I barely remember, because I was so heavily medicated.
I had panic attacks 24/7 and could not leave my house anymore.
I was afraid of everyone and everything.
My safe little world became a warzone.
This strong girl became a very small very scared child again.
Life was a battlefield, it was me against my memories.
I lost almost all my ‘friends’ back then , all except one, Robin. (Whom passed away almost 6 years ago now).
I can not be any more grateful for her, she loved me through it all. She supported me through it all, she was the one that kicked me out of bed to help me kick my anxiety. I am forever grateful. She is the best.
If you would have asked 17 year old me what I would be doing 10 years from then..
I would have told you I wouldn’t be here anymore.
I could not imagine having to live another 10 years. Why would I torture myself like that?
Countless times I hurt myself, countless time I walked to the trainstation to jump.
Countless time Tupac’s lyrics saved me. Keep Ya Head Up. We had such different lives, different upbringing, yet he got me.
We obviously didn’t know eachother (duh) but when I listened to his music, he was there. And Tupac cares.
I didn’t want kids. I did not want to bring innocent little beings into this cruel cruel world.
I could not see myself in the future, because I didn’t want one.
I am writing this whole post with a smile and big tears rolling over my face.
Because I made it.
Through all hardships I made it. ME, that scared little girl. I have no idea how, but I made it.
I may not look successful through societies eyes: I am a 27 year old single mother who moved back in with her parents, I am currently jobless due to health issues.
My body isn’t as ‘perfect’ as it was & the stress of single parenting is showing on my face. I have almost nothing in my savings account.
But to that 17 year old girl, I am the most successful person on earth. I did what I NEVER thought I could do.
I stayed alive, I got my diploma, I became a flight attendant for a while, I had my own bussiness (eventhough it failed), I kicked anxieties ass ( mostly 😉 ), I have survived losing my best friend (eventhough I wanted to die with her), I travelled a lot & I have the most amazing daughter I could have ever imagined.I DID THAT !!
I have been quite hard on myself the past 3 years & have been in a depression because I felt like a faillure. But writing this.. I am definitely not a faillure. I am a survivor, I am thriving.
I am still THABOMBDOTCOM. And I will start living like that again, one step at a time.
To any 17 year old girl or 27 or 37 or 77 ; you are not a faillure, you can do this. Chase your dreams and love YOURSELF.