Category: Attempted Suicide

Survivorhood Story #7

Trigger warning: Rape, High school, Anxiety, Depression, Attempted Suicide, PTSD, Self Harming


I imagined loosing my virginity with someone I was dating, someone I loved. I imagined it being so magical and romantic and us kissing and cuddling afterwards. I didn’t think I would loose it with someone who was my best friend, someone I trusted. It was when I was in grade nine and there was my best friend someone who I occasionally fooled around with (just kissing nothing else). I went over to his house and we started making out, and he started to feel me up and I told him to stop, he told me it was alright and that I should trust him and that he loved me. So I did trust him, because I thought letting him do what he wants would let him love me back… I trusted my best friend, a guy who told me he loved me. He then pushed me against his bed and told me its alright and that it won’t hurt. I started to panic, threatening to scream so his mom would hear. He then got up and started getting dressed and told me to get out, so I did as I was told since I was confused because was I still a virgin? am I a slut? was it my fault that I let him do that to me? did I turn him on too much to the point where he couldn’t go back? I knew that it was all my fault, so I headed home and called him later to apologize… no one picked up. I texted him for weeks and tried getting a hold of him… he never answered me. He got what he wanted, why would he answer? But I knew at the time it was all my fault for turning him on like that and not giving him all of it and it was my fault for giving him ‘blue balls’.  The second time I was raped was also my best friend in grade 10, we were in my basement laughing about an inside joke. Next thing I knew he was pushing me against the couch saying I enjoyed what he was doing to me and pressing his body against my face and forcing my mouth open to the point where the corners of my mouth bled. He pushed my legs apart where I woke up with bruises along my thighs. He was my bestfriend… why would my bestfriend someone who I learned to trust and tell my secrets too do that to me? I told him to stop, I was screaming at the top of my lungs. Next thing I know my mom comes in the front door and he yells at me to get dressed. And he left shortly after telling me not to tell anyone what we did. After the second time, I knew I was a slut and that I had nothing to loose, and that if I ever wanted a man to love me truly I would have to sleep with them. I would have to pleasure them sexually because I thought that was the only way. For my whole high school career, my depression and aniexty got worse and I blamed everything on myself because I felt that everything was my fault. I eventually self harmed, because I felt worthless and that I could never achieve anything in life. Until the third time I was raped, which was on a s-trip in Dominican when I was in grade 12. I walked out of my room drunk and saw a cute boy walking by who let himself into my room and pushed me against the bed and when I tried to get up multiple times he would not let me. Why would he not let me get up? Then he punched my stomach which made me blackout. I woke up with him getting dressed and he kissed my cheek thanking me for the wonderful time. I yelled at him to get out, because I was afraid. I knew it happened again to me. I instantly went next door to my friend’s room and told them about the incident and they told me it was probably my fault because ‘I love having sex, and have a lot of it’. So I instantly blamed it on myself because I forced myself to believe that I am a slut, and that everything that has happened to me was my fault


Story of Survivorhood #6

Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault, Rape, Brock University, Attempted Suicide

I never imagined was that I would have the worst night of my life within a week of realizing my dreams to become a student. I am always horrified now that we push girls to go and seek higher education, when what waits for 20% of them is sexual assault. How is it fair that we can’t even feel welcomed by our peers (and lately it seems, our faculty), without fear of assault. It’s not fair how my university experience has been an endless stream of violations against my body, instead of being a time when my main focus is to learn. University should never have been about surviving, but for me that’s all that it’s been.

A week into my first semester I was raped in a residence room by a boy who thought it was ok to get a girl drunk and pull her into his bed. The same boy was worried that I wouldn’t be safe walking home alone at night and all I could think was ‘so what, what are they going to do? Exactly what you just did?’. I didn’t even hate him after because I couldn’t feel anything except for sickness, and pain from the bruises, and scrapes, and cracked ribs. I spent my first weekend at university in a crisis centre, and my 18th birthday waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. It took the school months to even consider taking action against him after my don saw the bruises and reported it; they never even gave him a warning, they just told me to keep quiet.
I’ve been assaulted more times than I can count since then, and I’m so close to giving up. The first time after the first time was by the brother of a friend who promised that he would always keep me safe. They never let me talk about it because they said that him getting me so drunk I couldn’t stand up, and having two grown men hold me down while he shoved his hands down my top was somehow my fault. The same person said that when his friend pinned me to a bed face down and got on top of me while he held my wrists, it was because I had lead him on. These were never as bad as the first time, but there’s something horrible about feeling like all you will ever be is a body to be taken advantage of for the fun of men.
 I’ve had one suicide attempt, and after in the hospital they told me that I had so much to live for. That same day, the person who picked me up after I was released assaulted me repeatedly, and I was too numb to even care. I didn’t tell anybody for weeks because I didn’t want to have to disclose that I was being raped, again, by somebody I was supposed to be able to trust.
I don’t understand why this happened, and I can’t even come close to understanding why it had to happen so many times. Sometimes I start to believe that it’s my fault, and with every new assault it becomes harder and harder to believe that it wasn’t something I did. It’s hard for me to even write this out because I know that so many people won’t believe me. I’m afraid that people will think that I’m just making this up, or that I’m overreacting to what has happened.
I don’t know, maybe I am. I wish I was.
I can’t take another day of being a survivor, of living in fear of being victimized again.
Now I’m looking at the hospital band on my desk from a night this week that I have no memory of, not really knowing what happened, but knowing that I don’t want anybody to know. I think I’ve spent two lying on my bed staring at my computer screen, hoping to feel something, but nothing works.
I’m exhausted, and angry, and sad.
I don’t want to do this anymore, but how can I stop?

Story of Survivorhood #3

Trigger warning: Sexual Assault, Rape, Drugged, Attempted Suicide, Substance Abuse

It happened four years ago on a night in December.  I met a cool couple while I was working one day; good looking, friendly,  lots of money. On the outside they seemed like great people, the kind of people think you can trust. Which is a terrible stigma. They told me they felt terrible they didn’t have more cash on them to tip me, I had told them about the pub  I was going that night and they informed they just happened to be going there too and would love to buy me drinks to make up for the lack of a tip. I told them it was fine and not to worry about it. I get to the bar and there they are, super friendly and happy to see me. The drinks just didn’t stop and all I could think was how nice this couple was. The bar closes and they invite me back to their hotel for more drinks, still suspecting nothing. I’m pretty drunk at this point, in the nicest hotel room I’ve ever been in having an awesome time. Out of nowhere I start to feel incredibly tired and uneasy on my feet. I tell them I need to sit down and I lay down on the bed. I start to feel more and more out of it to the point where I can no longer speak or move but I’m still conscious. My clothes begin to come off and I realize I’m being kissed on my neck. From there, I was raped. I knew I didn’t want it happening but I no longer had control over my body, I tried to just shut my eyes and go somewhere else in my head. I still don’t know how long it went on for, I finally pushed myself off of the bed and started crying. They tried to comfort me and ask if I was ok, I manage to pull myself up onto my feet and I got out of that hotel. I was sick the entire next day. It changed me forever, I began drinking heavily on a daily basis and never let myself get close to anyone. It ruined my relationship with my parents, I lost friendships, almost lost my job and recently lost the girl I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. I questioned my sexuality at times, I blamed myself for the incident, I shut down completely with people. After my girlfriend left me when she thought I was cheating on her, I hit rock bottom, I stopped eating and sleeping; I no longer felt my life was worth living. about a month after this  I finally broke down and told someone what had happened to me. Talking about it was more traumatic to me than the event itself, reliving it without drugs or alcohol in me was torture, but it helped me let go of my anger, it helped me stop blaming myself. I’ve stopped drinking and smoking pot, I see a therapist and go to meetings with other sexual assault victims. Things are slowly getting better and they never would have if I didn’t tell someone

Story of Survivor hood #2

 Trigger Warning: Rape, Sexual Assault, Attempted Suicide, Drugged

When I was fifteen years old, I was raped at my friend’s house party. It is extremely difficult for me to talk about, but I think it is important that I do.

It was the first house party I had ever attended. It was in a different city where I only knew the girl hosting it. I was nervous about being in a house filled with people that I didn’t know, so I brought my best friend with me. The night started off really well… that is, until I accepted a drink (my third of the night) from someone that I didn’t know. I downed it enthusiastically and within several minutes started to feel really dizzy. I told my best friend that I was feeling sick and she guided me into a basement room. There was a group of people in the room, and my best friend explained to them that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to lie down. I don’t remember them leaving the room, but they did. As soon as I laid down I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I remember experiencing an internal panic because I was physically shutting down. I was confused and couldn’t articulate words. I couldn’t see straight or process what was going on around me. My mind was screaming at me, telling me that something was very wrong. To this day, I do not think that excessive drinking was the cause of my symptoms.

My best friend told me that I just needed to sleep. I shut my eyes.

I woke up to the sound of the door creaking open. In walked a man that I recognized as the host’s cousin (who I later found out was 29 years old). He asked me how I was feeling, as he shut the door behind him and locked it. As he walked towards me I knew without a doubt what he was about to do. I tried to sit up but I could barely lift my head. I became paralyzed by fear as he pulled my pants off, followed by his. He climbed on top of me. I tried to tell him to stop, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I was absolutely helpless. I knew in that moment that what was about to happen was inevitable. I remember the despair and disgust that I felt as he thrusted in and out of me. I kept trying to scream but no sound was coming out.  I hated every second of it. I felt dirty and cheap. With every passing second I prayed for it to be over. When it finally was, he walked out of the room without saying a word. I remember that he finished inside of me. For me, that was the most disturbing part. It was a physical representation of the degradation and humiliation that I felt.

When I came to, I told my best friend that this man had raped me. She instantly dismissed me as being dramatic. I tried to explain myself more. She cut me off and said “you don’t have to feel bad because you had sex.” It was at this point that I realized that no one was going to believe me.

I became withdrawn and isolated myself from my friends and family. My parents sent me to counselling, but I didn’t tell the counsellor about my rape. I was afraid that she wouldn’t believe me. At sixteen, I was diagnosed with depression and panic disorder. At seventeen, I attempted suicide.

I kept my rape a secret for five years.

The first person I opened up about my rape to was my fiancé. We cried together that night as I relived the experience. Finally having that support made things a lot less heavy for me.

Something to take away from my experience is that if someone tells you they were sexually assaulted, please, don’t dismiss them. You don’t need to take on their problems for them, you just need to listen. Let them know that you believe what they went through is real. Support them. Encourage them to seek professional help. It is terrible that sexual assault survivors are made to feel silenced. It needs to stop.