On October 8th, 2016, I was sexually assaulted. I was raped. I’m not here to talk about that, though, not really. So I’ll skate through the details: I internalized the hell out of what happened, blamed myself, didn’t press charges on my attacker (a fellow student at my university), refused to talk about it, fell into a deep, isolation-induced depression, went home, and almost dropped out of school. I stayed home for a week in the middle of the semester, around the time of Halloween. I didn’t drop out, though, and I’m flourishing today, but it was a close call.
At the time, my sister, Kylie, was living away from home at a therapeutic boarding school in West Virginia. She had no idea what was going on, really, and I didn’t know what my parents were telling her about my situation. Communication with my sister was tough during the time she was in West Virginia because the only way to contact her was through letters. I sent her a bunch, and I only received a few back – very sporadically.
Fast forward to yesterday. Kylie is home from her therapeutic boarding school, permanently. I’m home from college for the summer. While unpacking her things, Kylie found a letter she had written to me and never sent. She gave it to me a few days ago, and I just got to opening it. It’s marked November 1st, which was around the time I had decided not to drop out of school after all. She wrote:
“I heard school is stressing you out. I get that, school + being away from home is hard but I know you can and will do great. I’m really proud of you for going back.”
I bawled my fucking eyes out, man. Happy tears. I had to go run into her room and give her a hug. My sister didn’t even know what was really going on, but she believed in me so hard. Oh man. I love my sister so much, and I’m so glad to have her on my team.
I’m going to save this letter for the rest of my life.
I hope those of you reading this have a wonderful day.