After Joseph, I was raped. I have a separate blog post about that so I won’t go into detail here but my binge drinking and smoking led me to a party, that led me to be drunk, that led me to boys, that led to rape. They spread it around school that I wanted it. People looked at me like I was an alien. Only my closest friends would speak to me anymore. Everyone else treated me like an outcast and all I wanted was to disappear. I was relieved when school ended. I wanted to reinvent myself. Go to college. I had big dreams. Problem was, I didn’t get along with my parents. I spent more and more time away from home. As much as possible. I moved in with a friend for a while, after I turned eighteen. Her husband was away working out of town, she was lonely and asked if I’d stay with her so I did.
Then I met the drug dealer. The only name I won’t use. He’s dangerous and I want to protect myself. I wrote about him recently. He slept around on me. He treated me like an afterthought. He never hit me. He never called me names. Ironically, he was mostly nice to me. Then he flew off to another state to be with a girl for about a week. Didn’t say a word to me. Finally answered my call when he was there, told me why he was. I slept with someone else and he was pissed. After that, I was nothing to him. He told me we had nothing left to talk about. He threw me out of his life like garbage and at that time, after Robert, and Charlie, and Joseph, after being raped, after being told “we wouldn’t work out,” and, “I wonder what it’s like to be with a skinny girl,” and, told nothing at all; I thought was that I was garbage.
At this point, I found out Joseph was getting married. Not just to anyone. To a very thin woman. Someone I would never be, and I lost it. I sobbed so hard my ribs hurt. My friend was so scared she called the police and they took me to be assessed for suicide watch. I wasn’t suicidal surprisingly, though I wished I were dead at that moment, I was just devastated. I had held out hope that maybe we could figure it out somehow. He would think about me and miss me and we could still be together. Then he was married and I was alone.
I moved back to my parents but it didn’t go well. I either stayed in my room or went out and drank. I smoked. I worked. I cried almost every night. I wrote poetry that I threw out because it was too sad. I started cutting then too. The first time it was so relieving, but I didn’t know how to hide it at work or from people I knew. I wore cuff bracelets and thick watch bands. Whatever I could find. I made thin cuts. I wanted to die. I truly did. It was one of the darker times in my life.
Then there was Riley. The worst of them all.