SECOND CHANCES

The time after the worst of times

Recovering hope and meaning after trauma

It occurs to me now that the way my life looks in this moment — kicking ass in my master’s program, excelling at work — is what my undergraduate life could’ve looked like, had I not been assaulted a month or so into freshman year.

I’d always been a gifted and engaged student. I worked hard, loved writing, was always super curious and involved, and just really enjoyed reading and learning.

After that night, I stopped caring about school. Nothing I’d learned had protected me.

So I drank and partied and ran miles around campus. I lost weight, isolated myself from friends, and my GPA dropped so low I lost my academic scholarship.

I didn’t go to class. I could see my professors’ disappointment as my grades slipped. I didn’t reach out for help, wouldn’t let myself care. I’d forget projects or miss tests, then drop the class because I was too scared to ask for help. I didn’t know how.

I lost more weight. Started getting dizzy to the point of passing out. If I skipped enough lunches, maybe I could forget completely. Maybe I could disappear.

I lied to my parents about it any way I could. Called it the college experience while silently screaming.

At the time, I didn’t attribute any of this to the assault. I hadn’t even admitted to myself it happened yet. That would take years.

Because I went out one particularly sad night that spring and landed in an abusive relationship. I couldn’t tell you what was going on for about a year and a half after that. I was just numbing out anyway I could.

I was frozen in denial for years, surrounded by the people and places most likely to keep me stuck there. In that place, I made plenty of mistakes. Things I can’t take back.

I was doing the best I could with what I had at the time. But I can hold myself accountable for my actions, while allowing grace for the fact that I was acting from a state of functioning crisis.

It’s the grace I’d extend to another in my circumstance. The grace that, nearly a decade after that first assault, gave me hope to finally break free of the cycles of abuse I found myself trapped in. The same grace inspiring me to devote myself to this field to help others do the same.

It’s the same grace we’ll need to move forward as a country from here.

All these years later, my graduate degree will be dedicated to the vulnerable young woman who lost her innocence that night. She took a difficult path to get here, but it’s helped her prepare for everything that comes next.

I hope she learns to be nicer to herself one day.