On July 19, 2011 I went through something that was undeniably traumatizing. I went from being a young girl without many worries to dealing with very adult issues in the blink of one afternoon.

It was a beautiful day at the beach and I was staying at my summer home at the Jersey Shore. My parents had left for the day to visit my grandparents in New York City, but my brother and I stayed to enjoy the summer weather. My friend and I had met these two boys the night before. They seemed nice enough and they invited us to hangout on the beach the next day. So we did. This seemingly harmless “hangout” unfolded into a day that I will remember for the rest of my life: the day I was raped. The day my virginity was taken from me. The day I spent in the hospital. The day that onset my PTSD and had me spend thousands of dollars in counseling. This day sucked.

I was 14 years old. After the incident, I was in such shock I didn’t know what to do. My first instinct was to confide in my friend who was a lifeguard on duty at the time. From there, I had to deal with police, and detectives and rape kits. All the stuff you see on "Law and Order SVU,” except I didn’t have Olivia Benson to actually bring me justice. I had detectives that convinced me not to press charges and told me it wasn’t really a big deal. They told me that it sounded like a “hookup gone wrong” and that I would regret it if I followed through with the prosecution. As a vulnerable teenager, I listened to them. That day, I decided I didn’t want to press charges, or get a rape kit done. So I went home, showered off all the evidence and tried to forget.

I learned that you never forget.

At first, the memories were constant. I would experience vivid flashbacks where I could literally feel myself being violated. I would lie awake at night thinking anxiously and just hoping to fall asleep. I would have nightmares, and cry... a lot. I kept most of this to myself and would go about my life like I normally would. I thought that I would just forget about the whole thing, but I realized that forgetting is actually impossible.

What is possible is accepting it.

I eventually decided I wanted to follow through with the prosecution — if I hadn’t I would have never forgiven myself for not doing everything I could have. Fortunately, I had an amazing support system to help me through these hard decisions. Unfortunately, the way the case was initially handled, there was just not enough evidence to prove this guy guilty. Don’t get me wrong, I would have loved to see this S.O.B rotting behind bars, but in my case it wasn’t going to happen.

I’ve accepted that my first time was ruined, and many sexual encounters after that. It took four years to actually find a physical and emotional connection with someone. For the longest time, I thought that feeling simply didn’t exist. It was so unimaginable to me — something that is supposedly “special” was ruined before I even got to experience it. I’ve proven myself wrong and I’ve realized that the past doesn’t need to define the future. I am currently in a happy and healthy relationship where I’ve discovered the meaning behind the “special” term being used.

I’ve accepted that it’s okay to feel sad or anxious and to think about the trauma. It’s never going to go away in total. Five years later, here I am writing about it and if you asked, I could recite every detail of the day. It’s called a flashbulb memory: a detailed and vivid memory that is stored on one occasion and retained for a lifetime. While the memories are still clear, they got easier to think about over time. I accept that it has become a part of my life, yet it doesn’t define who I am.

In the U.S. 1 in 5 women have a chance of being raped. The statistics are gross. I know so many brave, beautiful women who have gone through the same thing, and it’s truly sickening. Everybody who is violated, assaulted or raped has a different story, but one thing that is similar is that we didn’t ask for it. So for anybody who has gone through or is going through this, know that it is okay to be pissed off, and sad and anxious. It’s even okay to not know how to feel, emotions are not an objective thing. Time, acceptance and a boatload of therapy are what got me to this spot today.

July 19, 2016, exactly five years later, I am a much stronger, confident, happy and healthy young woman. Yet five years later, I still get sad, I still cry a lot, I still get anxious and I’m still pissed off. The difference is I've come to realize it's OK to feel that way.