Yes I was sexually abused.
While the “common terminology” is “sexual assault survivor” I don’t feel like I survived.
I feel like a survivor overcame it all. the obstacles. the bad. the challenges. but I don’t feel like I’ve done that.
Everyday I still fight. Sometimes it is hard to get out of bed.
Sometimes, I don’t want to get out of bed. but I push myself to do it.
Everyday I fight the urge to cry. because I am tired of crying. I am tired of thinking about HIM. I am so DONE with it all. I hate crying over it. and while I know that crying is GOOD. Sometimes, I just don’t want to cry.
Everyday I fight this society the deems me as a criminal for being undocumented. That will blame ME for being assaulted.
Everyday I push myself to be happy. I have to remind myself to breathe. to eat. to laugh. to smile. and sometimes, fuck it, I don’t want to.
I haven’t survived.
I still have nightmares. I still have flashbacks. my journal is filled with hate letters towards HIM. hate letters towards myself. love letters towards myself that I sometimes don’t even believe when I reread them.
I still cry myself to sleep. I still struggle with my body. I break down whenever I read the news about other assaults. I break down when others tell me they’ve also been abused.
For me, to survive is to have WON the race. However, I feel that I am still running.
I have a long way to go in order to heal. in order to be OKAY.
I am still fighting.
I am not weak.
I am a warrior.