If you're reading this I want you to know I’m still alive. I survived the trauma, and I know I haven’t been there for you but how can I be there for you if I don’t have myself? I hide the pain of my past and shove it to the depths of my heart because if I started to tell the story it would all pour out. Every thought, every feeling, every word, every voice inside me would cry in pain but I silence and numb the hurt. If you ever feel that I pushed you away or that I’m distant just know I’m dealing with this burden weighing me down. I can’t get rid of it; the storm has yet to pass and in my darkest day I prayed to god I would live to see another day. I prayed that tomorrow would be better and there would be a path at the end of the tunnel. I needed something to guide me, a source of comfort for the long journey ahead and I was unprepared to travel through the storm. It was a fall night in September and I was adjusting to the change considering that I was in a new country with no friends. I was already unhappy when I moved to Norway after feeling suicidal and abandoned by everyone I had known. I was promised a better life in Norway but soon I realised it was a lie when I found myself sitting in silence on my bed that night with my body frozen from the greatest shock of my life. I cannot say what time of night the event occurred but I do know one thing; I felt my heart explode. I heard it crack into an explosion inside every inch of my body. At the age of thirteen I was raped by two men in my dark bedroom and then they threatened to kill me if I told anyone. Honestly I wanted to vomit. Till this day my guts turn in knots and I feel disgusted every time I think how someone could be so heartless. I was silent for two years until I moved to another country and then I got the courage to tell my parents. I went into therapy suffering from severe depression, ptsd and anxiety. It's been two and a half years since I started therapy, and my depression and anxiety has been bearable recently but my ptsd hasn’t changed. It will live with me for the rest of my life and I keep wondering why the two men broke into my house and raped me: it seems incomprehensible. How am I supposed to live with feeling tormented all the days of my life? I get triggered at random times of the day and there will always be a part of me that’s broken so when you ask if I’m okay I’ll say yes because I can’t explain what I went through without having a mental breakdown. And what are the chances you can understand my story? Unless you’ve gone through the same thing I think it’s impossible for you to even start to empathise with my pain. Sexual assault isn’t something teens talk about on an average day and the few people I’ve told don’t really know how to respond so they tell me there’s nothing they can do to help. This is my burden to bear and I cope by pushing people away and detaching myself from any deep human connection. I can’t bear to carry more suffering when you hurt me. I promise I want to be there for you but it’s impossible to be there when I am drowning in the pain of my own problems; trust me I’ve tried and I’ve failed every time. With this I want to say every day I’m trying my best to mend my soul and I went through my worst times alone so please forgive me if I wasn’t there for you.
From your friend,