This letter was originally published on August 30, 2021. It has been republished in honor of Sexual Assault Awareness Month. Devin has included a reflection at the end of the original letter.
Please note: in this letter, I discuss my experience with sexual assault. If you believe this topic will be triggering for you, I encourage you to take care of yourself and be prepared to access any resources you may need. Please note that the RAINN National Sexual Assault Hotline is available 24/7 at (800)656-4673 or at www.rainn.org.
If you're reading this, it is okay to have baggage.
Baggage. What an interesting word we use when we are too scared to say what we really mean. It suggests I have somewhere to go, somewhere to escape to. But there's no leaving behind what we really mean when we say that word. My trauma will stick with me for a long time. There's no vacation away from my post-traumatic stress.
I am jolted every time I hear that word in my nursing classes. I forget that trauma, in the medical world, is very common. Hearing it is like a shock every time, living in a society where we don't talk about the emotional damage of traumatizing events. A society where we expect people to stay composed, to be magically healed quickly after. Instead, we hide behind exaggeration: “oh my God, [insert everyday event here] was so traumatizing, I think I have PTSD.”
I am guilty of doing this too. It is easier to pretend that's where my trauma lies and joke it all off. My real symptoms are messy. They make people uncomfortable. The stigma of mental illness, and in my case, also sexual violence, is still very pervasive.
I still remember myself, 15 years old in the midst of the Me Too movement. She tells herself that if this ever happened to her, she'd know what to do. She’ll report it. She would be strong. And she would have justice. I didn't know what real strength was back then. I didn't know the strength that would take to get through every day. I didn't know the possibility of true justice was gone the night it happened. A beautiful cocoon of denial at 15.
I was only 17. A child. I couldn't even buy a lottery ticket when I became one of four college-aged women. What a tragic set of winning odds.
Most of all, I didn't know the guilt that would come after. The endless attacks I would launch on myself, both for what happened that night and for “not getting over it” quick enough. I felt like I was being dramatic, and I constantly told myself that other people had it worse, so I should just bottle it up and deal.
I felt guilty every time I woke up my roommates at 3 a.m., leaving for a night walk because the nightmares kept me up. Guilty every time an unknowing friend said his name and I turned to ice, ruining a perfectly good night. Guilty that I couldn’t be left alone in the dining halls because my sense of safety on campus was completely gone. Guilty for every time I've sobbed in the arms of a friend because the injustice of it all just hit me once again. I felt guilty for not telling my parents, then I felt guilty for telling my parents. Most of all, I felt guilty for not healing fast enough.
The guilt after a traumatic event can be all-consuming; however, when I started to talk about what happened to me, it became easier to manage. Don’t get me wrong, opening up has been a long process as well. But every time I told someone, it got a little easier. Therapy was and continues to be immensely helpful. And friends and family have supported and loved me with the utmost grace. They let me not be okay on the difficult days, with zero questions asked.
I still feel guilty a lot. I still get very anxious sometimes. But I believe that incremental growth is powerful and will get you a long way.
So I hope, if you're reading this, you know that whatever you’re feeling is okay. It doesn’t have to be neat or pretty or understandable to those who haven’t lived through your past trauma.
Someone who loves you wants to be there, wants you to talk to them, wants to stick by you, and will let you heal in their arms.
Most of all, if you are reading this, I hope you know that it is human to have baggage. And that you take all the time you need to heal.
Thank you for taking the time to read this letter, and thank you to If You’re Reading This for creating a forum where I felt safe to share my story publicly almost 2 years ago. Looking back on this, as a senior just a few short weeks away from graduation, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the people who have supported me and my growth in all aspects of my life. To my amazing friends, roommates & family… Thank you.
I feel lucky to have loved ones in my life who are passionate about supporting survivors and ending sexual violence. They are reminders to me each day that even when healing is hard, there are phenomenal people who are changing the world. This April, for Sexual Assault Awareness month, I hope that you take a moment to consider the ways you wish to fight back against the injustice of sexual violence. This work must be done by all of us, together (with a healthy dose of self-care and love).
To any survivors reading this, please know that there are people fighting for you.
Over the past few years, I have learned that growth has often meant discovering baggage I had buried, ignored, or wasn’t ready to address. There are challenges in my life that have never made their way into a letter, challenges that often remain in the silence of my heart. I hope that you give yourself the grace, time, and compassion to balance all your baggage in whatever way feels most life-giving to you. I know it is just as heavy even if no one else knows you are carrying it. My hope for myself, for my loved ones, and for you, is that we can flourish and experience all the beauty life has to offer, even as we carry great challenges with us.
Thank you once again for taking the time to read this letter. It means the world to me.
Devin H., Boston College 2023
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