The Letter I Needed

Dear 15 year old me,

Halfway through your first year of high school. One of the four years you were told would be “the days of your life”. I know you’re thinking, “If these are the best days then I sure as hell don’t want to see the worst”. I know how badly your hurting. I know you’re trying to keep it together, but, please, have faith that things will get better. High school isn’t as big of a deal as it’s made out to be.

I know right now you’re struggling to cope with being sexually assaulted by two different people in less than six months. I know that right now, at 15, you still don’t realize or believe that you were raped by the boy you call your boyfriend. You don’t see the lies he’s been feeding you. You are worth so much more than he tells you you are. You don’t need him. At all. He’s abusive – both emotionally and, at times, physically. He has raped you. More than once. He has emotionally blackmailed you in complying to his every want. And that’s what they are – wants – not needs like he makes you believe they are. You are smart, you are beautiful, you do find someone one much better than him. Don’t listen to that sadistic boy.

I know you’re also struggling with the fact that a family member you once trusted sexually assaulted you only 2 days after your 15th birthday. It was the night before your great grandma’s celebration of life. What were you supposed to do? Run and tell someone in the midst of their grief? He knew you wouldn’t do that and that’s why he chose to do it that night. He knew you’d keep your mouth shut. He knew you are so scared to draw attention to yourself that you wouldn’t speak up about one of the most traumatizing nights of your life. I know that you’re terrified to sleep at night now because of what he did. You’re on edge while you rustle in your sheets trying to get the feeling of his hands against your skin out of your head. I know you’re replaying the moment you told your boyfriend what had happened. “You cheated on me. You’re a whore, but I’ll forgive you,” he coldly told you. As if you wanted to be assaulted. But trust me, it is not your fault in way, shape, or form. You cannot hold yourself responsible for someone else’s repulsive actions.

Please believe that things will get better. I know everyone is telling you that, but they’re right. And, unfortunately, it won’t be in the next few years, but it does happen. Just hold on for me, please. For your family who loves you so deeply and for the family you will create in the future. I know death seems so much better than living through the hell you’re in, but I promise there is so much more to look forward to. The best is yet come. I’m not really sure I’ve even seen the best years of my life yet at 23, but these last 4.5 years have been pretty spectacular.

Those emotional wounds that seem to never heal, will heal. There will always be scars left behind that will be a permanent reminder of everything you’ve been through, but one day they won’t be agonizingly painful day in and day out. If you can, push to see a professional. Therapy is the best way to heal those wounds and doing it sooner rather than later is in your best interest. But even if you’re not ready now, you will be one day. You are so strong, but don’t be afraid to get help when you need it.

Last, but not least, love yourself. I know that doesn’t sound like an easy task right now, but do your best. Every small step towards self love is a win. Allow yourself to be proud of things your good at and don’t let your shortcomings overshadow your strengths. Give yourself some slack, you don’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t matter what your parents, teachers, peers, boyfriend, or anyone else says about you, you are an amazing human being. You deserve love as much as anyone else. You are beautiful inside and out. There’s not a single thing you shouldn’t love about yourself.

With lots of love,

Your 23 Year Old Self ❤️