I’m an average girl I guess you could say, from the outside looking in. I have parents who love each other, a wonderful family, a beautiful home, lots of friends and support, money, food, you name it. Everyone who looks at me, that’s what they see. They see what I want them to see, the positive things about me. I don’t want people to know my pain. Yes, I am in pain. People ask me, what the hell are you sad about? You have got nothing wrong in your life. Well, that’s where everyone is wrong.

I had depression for quite sometime. It began when I was around 11 years old. I also battled PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), and anxiety. I wasn’t always like that. I can vaguely recall the sweet and smart young girl I once was, before everything changed. I have a feeling some of you may have an idea how I’m feeling. If you do, I am truly sorry. The pain I felt, I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

When I was 13 years old, my grandmother was diagnosed with a disease known as ALS. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s formal name is amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. It’s a fatal, degenerative neurological disease which attacks the neurons responsible for controlling voluntary movement. Throughout the duration of the disease, the motor neurons begin to break down and eventually die, and are unable to send messages to the muscles of the body. The muscles begin to atrophy due to the fact they can no longer function. The majority of ALS patients die from respiratory failure, which occurs when the diaphragm and chest wall muscles fail. Doctors don’t know what causes ALS (besides the small 10% of cases which are inherited) and there is no cure. ALS eventually will lead to death, almost always within 2-5 years. Growing up, my grandmother was like a second mom to me. She influenced me with art, music, and God and brought me to be the person I am today. Losing her was devastating. She was one of the only people in my life who really knew me. She could look into my eyes and see past my fake smile and happiness, and never abandoned me no matter how many mistakes I made. After she died, I began to make bad decisions. When I lost her, I became so angry that I took it out on myself. I grew deeper and deeper into depression. As I grew deeper, I soon made the biggest mistake of my life. A mistake that changed me for the worst, and for the better.

I met a boy when I was in 6th grade. We didn’t know each other well until I reached about 14 years old. He was popular and all of the girls liked him, as I was more of a “different” kind of girl. When he noticed me, I was relatively shocked. I ignored all the warning signs that were around me, and hopelessly fell into his trap. After my grandma died, I started to grow even closer with this boy. At the time, I thought we were best friends. I would have done anything for this kid, and I did. He eventually asked me to be his girlfriend, and I accepted. About 3 weeks into the relationship, he started bringing up the subject of sex. Now I was brought up to be very christian and I had a lot of respect for myself. Plus, my virginity meant the world to me. The thought of having sex with someone I wasn’t in love with at the age of 15 freaked me out to say the least. I thought he understood that, so I let it go. I was wrong.

I had him over my house one evening, and I was allowed to be in my bedroom with him as long as I kept my door open. We were talking on my bed, cuddling and kissing and such, until things started getting a little intense. I looked up at him and asked if he wanted to grab something to eat so I could change the subject, and what he replied to me is something so vulgar it’s not even worth repeating. He then proceeded to kiss me more and more. He began to undress himself, and I think you can imagine what happened next. I was raped. And that wouldn’t be the last time of it either.

For about nine months of life, I endured traumatic abuse at the hands of this boy. He raped me, kicked me, and hurt me with the most awful words and emotions you can think of. He made me believe that he was the only one who loved me, that I was alone and had no one. I was broken, or so I thought. I would cry and beg for him to stop, but he never did. As time went on, I trained myself to go to a happy place until the pain was gone. It didn’t work all the time, but what else could I do.

While the abuse was going on, I never told a soul. I couldn’t even write it down. Part of it was the embarrassment I felt. I felt humiliated, ugly, and unloved. Every time I looked in the mirror, I felt filthy and dirty; No matter how much I showered or bathed, I never felt clean. The other reason was that I had it ingrained in my head that if I helped him, if somehow I could find away to make him stop hurting me, to change him, maybe I could save him. I don’t know why I didn’t open my eyes and realize what a monster he was, other than the fact that I was too young, innocent, and naive to understand. Eventually I did, thank goodness, but damage had already been done.

During and after my abuse, I began to break down. I cut myself so much I couldn’t count the scars. I thought of suicide every single day, and acted on it more than once. People who I thought were friends, as well as family, turned their back on me. It wasn’t their fault, they had no idea what was really going on. But the feeling of having absolutely no one except for the person who was hurting me, was almost unbearable. There were times when I use to beg to God to take me away so I wouldn’t feel another second of pain. I was hospitalized for almost 2 weeks to get help that I didn’t accept. I developed PTSD, and in my episodes I couldn’t control or remember anything I did. For awhile, I thought my experience was going to be the death of me. How can you go back to being happy and motivated, when so much bad had happened? How could my life ever be as it once was, when I was carefree and proud to be who I am? I didn’t think it was possible. I thought that for the rest of my life, I was going to feel this never-ending cycle of pain. Once again, I was wrong.

Over 4 years after the abuse began, you could say that I am doing superb. I closed my heart and feelings to the world for a long time, but I realized that if I continued to do that and live my life alone, he won. Now, I am more happy and successful than I ever could have dreamed.  I no longer have depression, anxiety, or PTSD for that matter and have not had a breakdown or an episode in over a year. I was unable to complete high school in the normal fashion, so I made the decision to receive my GED instead. That was one of the hardest choices I have ever made, for I had once loved education. However, I needed to focus on my health so I could move on with my life. I began attending EMT School to become an Emergency Medical Technician and graduated about a week ago. I finished at the top of my class grade wise, and I couldn’t be more happy about it. I am enrolled in college, with a major in Criminal Justice and I will be starting in less than a month. I also want to help girls, women, boys, and men who have been through similar things as I have, with the hopes I could find someway to find them an absolution as I have found. My goal is to become a life flight paramedic, a firefighter/paramedic, or a police officer. I haven’t yet made up my mind, but when the time is right I will know. I want to dedicate the rest of my life to helping and saving the lives of others.

The point of this story isn’t to seek attention. I am not looking for people to feel sorry for me, pity me, etc. This is the first time I’ve spoken publicly about my past, and I do it to give you hope. I do it to give you proof that pain does not last forever. No matter what you have been through, what you have seen, what you have felt, you can come back from anything. I was on the brink of death. I have seen evil and felt evil to my very bones. But I am here talking to you still, more happy than I can ever remember. I know how hard it is to keep things inside. I know how hard it is to have so much pain inside of you, you don’t want to feel it for another second. You just have to keep telling yourself, it won’t always be this way.

I’ve come to the difficult conclusion that everything happens for a reason. Even death and abuse. I believe that every pain we are given in life, is given to us for a reason. We may not realize it right away, but someday it’s going to shape us into who we are. My pain has changed my outlook on life and on people for the better. It has shaped my mind and the way I think, and has given me perseverance. I may not be living the life I once wanted to live, but I am living the life I was meant to. So if you're reading this right now, and you have been able to relate to what I have stated, think of this. Your pain is for reason. You can let it bring you down, or you can beat it and let it bring you to your destination. I did. And look at me now. Anything is possible, all you have to do is believe.