I've got to complete 60 hours of community service before I graduate in June, and in all honestly I've only completed about 12 of them. But I now know what I'm going to do.....
The last six years and something months have been a journey for me. The trauma of knowing something horrible happened to me but not quite understanding fully what, the horrendous diagnosis of herpes at age 12, finally admitting my rape, and in between that three stays at the psyche ward at Children's Hospital. What happened to me was beyond horrible. I still don't understand how such evil can exist in the world, but I know it does. I was forced to grow up way too young, but I am strong and know I can face whatever challenges I face. I still cry for the poor innocent girl, but I have moved on. I am healing. For the first time in my life what happened to me isn't the biggest thing in my life. Though I still have bad days I have more good ones. In the process of moving on I think I should go help children, like me, who have encountered similar evil and our now attempting to rebuild their lives.
During the first two years I was paralyzed by fear, constantly afraid and on edge, yet there was one place where I felt totally safe. This place was called Safe Shores. The place was warm and cosy, filled with lovely people who worked my case and provided me with psychiatric help I so desperately needed, and all for free. It was where I first went to tell my story. And then every Tuesday for 20 months I showed up for therapy, at the exact same time. They knew me by name and always fed me the same thing, Cheez-itz, apple juice, & a mini pizza. This may seem trivial and stupid, but for someone who's life was turned upside down & completely shattered this consistency was the one thing I could count on. I will always be so in debt to these people. I hope they know how much they saved me. I guess I hope I can give a little back, maybe to another little girl who feels just as broken and helpless as I did then.
The last six years and something months have been a journey for me. The trauma of knowing something horrible happened to me but not quite understanding fully what, the horrendous diagnosis of herpes at age 12, finally admitting my rape, and in between that three stays at the psyche ward at Children's Hospital. What happened to me was beyond horrible. I still don't understand how such evil can exist in the world, but I know it does. I was forced to grow up way too young, but I am strong and know I can face whatever challenges I face. I still cry for the poor innocent girl, but I have moved on. I am healing. For the first time in my life what happened to me isn't the biggest thing in my life. Though I still have bad days I have more good ones. In the process of moving on I think I should go help children, like me, who have encountered similar evil and our now attempting to rebuild their lives.
During the first two years I was paralyzed by fear, constantly afraid and on edge, yet there was one place where I felt totally safe. This place was called Safe Shores. The place was warm and cosy, filled with lovely people who worked my case and provided me with psychiatric help I so desperately needed, and all for free. It was where I first went to tell my story. And then every Tuesday for 20 months I showed up for therapy, at the exact same time. They knew me by name and always fed me the same thing, Cheez-itz, apple juice, & a mini pizza. This may seem trivial and stupid, but for someone who's life was turned upside down & completely shattered this consistency was the one thing I could count on. I will always be so in debt to these people. I hope they know how much they saved me. I guess I hope I can give a little back, maybe to another little girl who feels just as broken and helpless as I did then.
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