Three years feels so long ago, yet so recent. The vivid memories remain etched in my brain. While I have gone back and forth for months about writing this post, I've decided to break my silence on something that I, like so many others, have been dealing with for the last 1096 days. For the last 1096 days, I have been harboring something so raw, so intimate that I still struggle to come to terms with it. On November 1st 2015, I was...I was sexually assaulted. Before unveiling my experience, I do not share my story to garner pity; instead, I do so to point out how common of an issue this is and to show how to prevent such an unfortunate occasion from taking over a person's life.

Growing up, Halloween was one of my favorite holidays. I looked forward to dressing up in a ridiculous costume and going trick-or-treating. When I reached high-school, and then college, I looked forward to the costume contests and having fun with friends. I never saw myself going to parties, but I opened up to the idea during freshman year of college. The very next year, I could not wait for a Halloween party with friends. I reasoned that I would be safe and that we would enjoy a carefree, entertaining night. Or so I thought.

It is still too painful for me to write the details of what happened, but in the end, someone took advantage of me in an attic at a Halloween party. It happened so quickly that I could not process what was going on until I had a chance to free myself. I sprinted away from that white, musty-smelling attic and tried to resume conversation with friends downstairs who I had left earlier. A concerning look from one of them told me that they knew something had happened. After some convincing, I agreed to go get looked at, and in retrospect, I realize that they had my best interest at heart. At the time; though, I was angry at them. I felt humiliated and vulnerable at the hospital, sitting in a papery-thin gown while my privacy was invaded with various instruments. I felt like a lab rat. I felt numb as I recounted the night's events over and over again to various authority figures who were watching as I endured the four-hour examination. I felt so dirty that all I wanted to do was take several showers. No amount of water would wash away the pain of what had happened.

When I finally returned to my bed at 4:27am the next day, I just laid there wide-eyed and in shock. Laying awake in bed in the middle of the night is a scary place. It is just you and your thoughts. I couldn't even begin to process what I had been through, and my thoughts became darker than they had ever been. 'How could I ever love myself again? What's the point anymore?' I would think to myself. I started skipping classes, avoiding swim practices (a sport that I have enjoyed since I was a kid), and isolating myself from the people who had been there for me in the most difficult weeks of my life. For months afterward, the nightmares and flashbacks invaded my mind and held me back from venturing outside the walls of my room. My trust, self-confidence, and courage were all taken away from me. More importantly, I had something so deep, so personal taken from me that was not meant for the boy who took advantage of my semiconscious body. At the time, I could not see myself making it to the other side of this, but now I am getting closer and closer.

The shame, guilt, and self-blame linger, but what happened to me was not my fault. On the outside, I am happy and flourishing, but on the inside, I am a patchwork of broken pieces held together so delicately. There are days when the flashbacks are so intense, so visceral, that I feel as if I am back in that attic. There are nights when I sob uncontrollably in the shower because I still cannot believe that this happened to me and that it continues to happen to others. There are countless sleep-deprived nights, where I am afraid to go to sleep because of the nightmares. Occasionally, there are the days where I have minimal flashbacks and can sleep through the night. I appreciate these moments as they come and wait patiently for the next small victory. Sexual assault is not something that you truly get over; instead, you learn to live with it. It does not define you, nor does it control you. It is an unfortunate occurrence from which people will emerge stronger than ever.

Lastly, I part with the following words:

To the women and men who have suffered similar experiences, it is not your fault. You did not deserve for this to happen to you; however, you are strong, courageous, and worthy. To those who are not yet ready to share their stories, take your time. This is a process so pace yourself. During the darkest days, remember just how far you have come. To all survivors, we will not be destroyed by an act of depravity. We will ascend like a phoenix rising from the ashes.