My freshman year of college at Texas A&M University–Texarkana was the year my world broke. I was the victim of a sexual assault by someone once considered my friend, someone whom I felt trusted. Following the attack, a whirl of silence, guilt, and fear descended upon my life, impacting every aspect of my life, particularly my academics and my mental well-being.
I withdrew from life. I stopped going to the cafeteria with the students, hardly went outside my dorm room, and started flunking classes. I felt shame and loathing. I did not dare to inform anyone--not even my trusted colleagues--because they were close to him just as well. I was afraid they would not believe me, or, heaven forbid, they would take his side and destroy my confidence.
I even tried to go to the university's counseling services, but the sessions were unfocused and unhelpful. Instead of making me feel heard and cared for, the counseling felt like it was putting my pain aside. When I went through the procedure of filing for a Title IX probe, it only was even more disheartening. The university was inclined towards an agreement of mediation, and this made me ill. It felt like the procedure was favoring the campus image and the ease of the procedure, rather than my truth. Although text messaging and even a confession by him—"I didn't ask, she never said no"—were present, the panel argued they did not have sufficient evidence. The individual responsible for the hurt was permitted to go back to campus, but I was left to bear the burdens of his action.
I dropped out of the university in January. I took a year and a half off of school because I couldn't function. I felt empty, angry, and lost. Some days, I felt the urge to seek more justice, but I realized it would be too much and would open old wounds I was trying so hard to heal. The silver lining was my family. My parents were my rock. They doubted me not. They became my sanctuary, and they allowed me to cry, scream, and vent whenever they were needed. Their love supplied me with strength, even though it was all gone.
My gap year launched unexpectedly—I was offered the place on the Disney College Program and worked at Walt Disney World. That was where the transformation happened. Working in the warm, fun environment of Disney, I started to feel alive again. I was immersed in new friendships, most of which I still have today. I felt appreciated, included, and belonged to something special. I wasn't just getting through life anymore—I was learning to love again.
But recovering isn't linear. Once my Disney stint was over, the old emotions were back. My parents recommended transferring schools, so off to Miami Dade College I went. Starting over was intimidating, but it brought me the room to grow, heal, and focus. My grades are better than ever, and my GPA has never been higher. Above all, though, I'm learning how to feel again—to navigate emotions positively and connect with myself.
I still have scars. I'm protective of myself around men, and the subject of relationships is complex for me. Trust comes slowly. But time has taught me, too, to be able to experience joy again—in my passions, my companions, and the dreams I have set for myself. Among those dreams is the hope of becoming a Meteorologist Forecaster. Weather has long intrigued me, and predicting seems to be the ability to provide insight and readiness to others—a departure from the confusion once present in my own life.
It'll be a huge accomplishment for me to graduate with my associate's degree. My life path has been far from linear, and it lasted longer than intended. However, every step necessitated earned credit. I'm strong and confident where I am, not only educationally but personally. Trauma does not define me, but my resilience does. I am still healing, still learning, and still moving toward the better future I am worthy of. With the love and support of my loved ones and my own tenacity, I am certain I can transform my sufferings into purpose. I shall not let this horrid minute define the rest of my life. I have regained my voice, and I won't be afraid to make it known.