I just want to point out that this letter is going to be a trigger for some people. It is personal and probably a pretty charged topic, but it is my story.

To the men who raped me:

You took away my sense of purpose, replacing it with a meaninglessness about life that I lived by. You took away my friendly, safe world, replacing it with a fear that I still cannot describe. You took away my worth, replacing it with a feeling of worthlessness that felt I would never be able to earn back. You took away my innocence, replacing it with a knowledge no child should ever have.

I hate that you ever did this to me. I hate that I ever had these encounters. I hate that I am still affected by these experiences. I hate that nightmares seem as real as the actual event. I hate that I wake up in a puddle of sweat, so anxious from having had a nightmare. I hate that flashbacks control my days. I hate that disassociation is a real thing in my life.

Many days, I feel sad. I feel pain that I cannot explain. I feel terrified. I am exhausted from a long night of no sleep. Most of all, I feel alone. I am disgusted that your actions have left such a giant impact on my life…yet you walk around as if nothing has ever happened. I was an object to you—you made me an object. You raped me without a care in the world, most likely not considering how it would one day impact me. Well, I am here to say that your actions affect me still. Years later, I am still affected by your choice.

I try to move forward. I go to counseling. I seek help. But it seems that for every two steps I go forward, I go three steps back. While I know this is not the truth, some days, it feels truer than ever. It’s those days that you are all I can think about… and I HATE that. I hate that you, from a thousand miles away, still affect me the way you do.

But I refuse to live as a victim. While I am still greatly impacted by these events, I am a survivor, but more so, I will overcome.

You might have slowed me down in those seasons of my life. You might still even be slowing me down, now. If in any way you broke me, I want you to know, I am now whole. With the Lord’s help, I rebuilt myself. I rediscovered my sense of purpose. I found a safe place despite all odds. I found my worth in Jesus. Most of all, though, I learned that what happened to me, what you did to me, was not my fault.

It was not my fault.

It is not my fault.

It will never be my fault.

It was, is, and forever will be your fault.