The most difficult time in my life thus far is between April and December 2010.
In the beginning of April, I had to break up with my girlfriend several times for her to get the message. She still invited me to go to her birthday party a couple weeks later. I thought, “Sure, why not.”
I traveled down to Minneapolis/St. Paul with one of my friends for support.
My ex-girlfriend Maya*, her friends, my friend, and myself went to a restaurant to eat dinner and then danced at a bar the night of April 17, 2010. When we got back to the hotel, everyone else was partying in the next room. I was tired. I changed into my pajamas and crawled into bed.
Maya knocked on my door. She smelled like marijuana and she kept saying, “The smell of pot makes me so horny.” Then she proceeded to rape me.
You might ask, “How can a woman rape another woman?” Maya did everything without my consent. I consider that rape.
The next morning, I felt horrible. I didn’t have an appetite. The drive back to my college campus with my friend was sickening. I kept feeling like I was going to throw up and I had a massive migraine.
The next day, April 19, 2010, I attempted suicide.
I felt worthless. Maya had taken advantage of me.
I was admitted to the hospital. Doctors met with me to discuss my mental health. They said my problems with Maya were just a “bump in the road” and allowed me to leave after two days.
They were wrong. I felt like I should have stayed longer. I battled with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) throughout the summer. I constantly had flashbacks of Maya raping me and of her abusing drugs. It had gotten so bad that I had to sleep with a nightlight!
Fall of 2010, I decided I’d go back to school like normal. Depression hit me and I felt like I had no one to turn to. My family wasn’t around to lean on like they were over the summer.
I started smoking cigarettes even though I promised myself after my grandpas had passed away from smoking-related diseases that I wouldn’t ever pick up a cigarette. I started self-harming myself to get rid of the pain, the anxiousness, the depression. I started losing weight from smoking and from not eating. I started staying up until the morning hours, talking with other smokers on the sidewalk. I started gathering together my medications, waiting for the right time when I couldn’t handle it all anymore.
One of my acquaintances reported me to the head of housing on campus. I promised him that I’d seek help at a hospital.
I was admitted to a hospital on September 21, 2010 and left on October 11, 2010.
Upon exiting psychological treatment, I felt great. I felt that my medications were in order. I felt like I could move on and go back to my life the upcoming semester of college (since I had missed most of the fall semester).
On October 29, 2010, I was smoking a cigarette in my family’s garage when I felt like I had to harm myself. I doused the entire garage with lighter fluid, including myself. I took my cigarette lighter and lit myself on fire. I wasn’t thinking. My mind was blank. I was depressed and I wanted to die.
At first, it was pleasant, but then I couldn’t take it anymore. If my mom wasn’t home for lunch break, I probably would have died. I called her and told her to help me. She patted the fire out with her bare hands. She didn’t get any burns; just a few blisters. The priest of our church thinks it’s a miracle.
Mom rushed me off to the hospital where I received treatment.
My right leg from my toes to mid-calf was a 3rd-degree burn, full of pink, white, and brown.
Every morning for a week or two, I woke up early in the morning to put my leg in a whirlpool to gently wipe away dead skin.
At home, I wanted to self-harm for self-harming myself. I felt pathetic.
I had two skin graft surgeries in November and December of 2010. I was bedridden with a cast on my entire right leg until March 2011.
I visited a surgeon in Fargo to see the healing progress of my leg once every month. My leg was finally healed in May 2011. I have a huge scar from my toes to mid-calf on my right leg. I take care of it regularly by rubbing lotion and Bio Oil on it and by exercising.
While going through depression and the experience of my burnt leg, I kept thinking, “Why did I do that?” I felt poorly of myself. I felt like it was a huge dream. Maybe I was in a coma. I prayed that someone should wake me up from the terrible dream.
I told my mom about my theory. She reminded me of my grandpa Wolf. I really look up to him, even though he passed away in 2001. My grandpa Wolf’s life motto is to “take it as it comes”. Yes, I burnt my leg. What am I going to do about it? I am going to fix it and move on. I’m on my way to fixing it. I ride my bike for my leg to gain its strength back. I have set goals to meet before going back to school, such as losing the weight I gained.
I’ve learned that this is the only life I get and I’m only 23! I need to lie in as much grass, watch the sun set and rise, let the wind blow through my hair, feed the ducks, etc. as much as I can! I shouldn’t put myself in a rut. I should climb out of it, fix it, and move on.
*name change