Damaged

I love when people ask, what is one word you would use to describe yourself? I think the majority of us, if honest, find the negative words come much easier than the positive ones. I know mine do, even prior to my assault. 

Growing up, I think I always felt slightly out of place. I was taller than all the boys at a very young age. I wasn’t petite and soft spoken. I was loud and noticeable, for the most part. But, deep down, I wanted so badly to be like everyone else - to blend in. When I realized that was not in the cards, I tried to play it off as if I wanted to stand out. Instead of trying to minimize my height, I wore platforms and wedges. I corrected my teachers and spoke up constantly - as you can imagine, this made me a “favorite” with a lot of the teachers.

Attending college out of state felt like an opportunity to reinvent myself. At a huge Big Ten campus, I found so many beautiful people, all different and standing out in their own ways. I started to embrace my unique traits, not because I had to, because I wanted to. I started to feel like I was becoming who I wanted to be. 

That changed abruptly the beginning of my sophomore year of college. My rapist stripped me of all the work I had done to grow into my own person - to love myself. Following that night, I only felt damaged, and as such, started treating myself as such. 

Over the past 14 years, I have realized I created this separation - like church and state. I was extremely motivated to graduate college without delay, then attend grad school, and land a job, which I powered through and moved my way up in at lightning speed. Looking at that person, I seemed so put together, confident, when, in reality, I was holding on by a string. I engaged in toxic relationships, letting people define who I was or should be. I dated guys who would make comments about me being crazy, yet they loved me, or told me I was a mess, thinking that would be the kick in the ass to “fix” myself. I even dated someone who told me I needed to wear tighter and shorter clothes… You would think that would be flattering, but it is amazing how much that back fired and ended up reinforcing my thoughts of “not being good enough”.

I have let, not just men I am in relationships with, but those I work with feel comfortable in breaking me down. When I stood up for myself at work, I was high maintenance or a drama queen. I was told I was not good enough at my job, but that management knew that and wasn’t going to pay more for the “A” team. And I believed this! These comments fueled me to perform better, be less "crazy", stay in my lane. What a fucking miserable life to live! Constantly trying to impress others by winning another deal, buying that dress that I knew I wouldn’t feel comfortable in, or quieting my voice and emotions.

Everything I thought about myself was reinforced in these relationships. How fucked up is that? Yet, how relatable is it for many of us? Yeah, you may be ready this going… “I get it, I have felt that way” or “I feel that way”. 

So what did I do? Well, honestly, nothing for a long time. It wasn’t until recently I finally said, "fuck this shit." 

You are probably still asking, so what the hell did you do? A couple of things:

• I admitted I was not perfect, and embraced it. I drink too much some times, swear a lot (sorry dad), and finally admitted, uttering the words out loud, that I was raped and it fucked my world upside down.

• I defined and set my boundaries. Instead of saying yes to another drink or going to third base when I didn’t want to, I said no. I said no to sticking in a position, where I was reporting to someone who belittled me every chance they could and, instead, took a role with a supportive, confident and collaborative boss. I told my friends no to going out when I did not want to or taking that shot.

• I started complimenting others more. If I wanted to build myself up, I couldn’t be tearing others down. Because of those I surrounded myself with, those who constantly poked and shot digs at me, I started doing that to others - which just weighed me down mentally and emotionally.

• I took time for myself. Constantly giving to people who didn’t respect my space and needs made me want to crawl into myself and hide. For those of you who know me, that is not who I am or want to be. I started recognizing where I needed to set boundaries and respecting those, standing up for my needs when others don’t always respect them. 

Today I turn 35 and for the first time, in maybe my whole life, do I feel good in my own skin. Not everyday is perfect, but I am owning that and learning from it. I am starting to feel like a survivor, not a victim, and I had no idea how liberating it would feel. I honestly never thought I would even get to this point, but I am healing and defining who I am, and want to be, on my own terms.

That definition no longer includes “being damaged”.