A letter to myself when submerged in the darkness

Natalie,

You've never felt a sadness this heavy. Today you woke up sobbing, before you even realized you were conscious. It's been so impossible to lift yourself out of this bed.

Your brain is spinning with questions that you can't seem to find the answers to. Why can't you do these simple things? It's never been this difficult to climb out of bed and face the day, to carry out these daily tasks that used to be so effortless. Why is it you can't make it through a day lately without going to the bathroom at least three times to sob?  You're coffee doesn't taste the same. Your favorite TV shows are no longer funny. Why do all these things that you used to love, that used to energize you, now send you running to your bed for refuge? You have SO much to do, but you just can't do it. You just want to close your eyes. Everything can continue moving around you, but you just can't move.

Everyday you're wading through this darkness, trying to find the smallest glimpse of light. You could always find that light within you, but it's never been this hard. You know it's still there somewhere, it must be. But it's fading fast. 

Nat, I want to remind you that you're going to be okay. You need to continue clinging on the things that bring you light, whatever it is in that moment that keeps you going. These moments will pass. I need you to try and remember the following things:

Please remember how many people care about you. You have to stop pushing everyone away, when you know you need their support now more than ever.  I've been watching you isolate yourself further from your friends and family, from those in your program, thwarting these connections that are supposed to be such a significant part of grad school.  You can't give up on these relationships. You don't have to face this alone.

Please remember the extent of the grief you're experiencing. And that it's okay to feel this sad. You're experiencing so much loss. Loss of a dream you held onto for so long, loss of your best friend and a sense of love you never could have imagined, loss of energy and excitement to do the things you enjoy most, loss of a sense of safety in your own home.. 

And you’re losing your mother. She’s really suffering, and you know there is nothing you can do to save her- and part of you knows how much she’s hurt you- and knows that what’s coming will be best for both of you-- but you’re so afraid of losing her forever. And you realize how close this day is. 

And then there's the sweeping loss, the sense of despair you can't even put words to. You've lost your sense of self, of purpose, the driving force that's moved you to help others and to help yourself. 

Please remember that you're going to grow from all of this, and you're going to come out on the other side. You're growing as I write these words. You now have radical empathy for your friends and family weighed down by depression, for the clients you work with...

  Look at this girl. 

She's still so scared. You need to protect her, to keep her safe, to take care of her. Because despite all the losses she's experienced, she still has so much to be grateful for, and so much more to gain! But she really needs you to advocate for her, to not give up on her. To fight for her now more than ever. 

You just need to find the balance. The balance between not letting the sadness win and giving it space to be felt- and to be felt fully. A balance between reaching out to those you care about most and who care about you, and still maintaining boundaries and protecting yourself.

But for today, you just need to be gentle with yourself. I know it’s your favorite season. There are perfectly crunchy leaves everywhere. There’s even a dog here. Yet, you cannot smile, you cannot move. Just finish your coffee and do what you can. At the very least, just get outside.

Things will get better. 

Love,

Nat

Dear Peace Corps, It's not me, it's you.

June 23^rd. This date has been engrained in my head for the last 8 months, a date of incredible significance. A week from today, I should be leaving for staging, leaving to serve 27 months in Swaziland.  But I wont be leaving.

It’s crazy how when you want something so bad it becomes part of your identity. Natalie; Peace Corps. It’s like an automatic word association. Ever since I was six years old and my own social worker showed me pictures of her and her partner’s service in Peace Corps, I knew this was something I wanted to do, something I was going to do.

Dreams & Aspirations, Age 8

And it was happening, a year in the making.  Something I had dreamed of for as long as I can remember- it was happening. The application questions I spent hours on, the essays I had my friends edit repeatedly, the two and a half hour interview in Chicago. I remember smiling while simultaneously crying the day I received my official invitation. I couldn’t stop smiling for a week after. It was surreal.

I then began the longest medical-clearance process I could ever imagine, involving more paper work than I filled out in my entire life. But it all seemed worth it, because I would have the most amazing experience, the opportunity of a lifetime.

Then I actually made it through all the paperwork. I was at the end. I could see the other side. I was essentially medically cleared. And it all came down to one single question, one single checked box: “Have you been sexually assaulted in the last year?”

I have replayed this doctor’s appointment in my head so many times--wishing I would have answered differently, skipped over that question, lied about my experience. Because I know if I would have lied, if I would have chose not to disclose, I would be flying to Philadelphia for staging next week.

Peace Corps has always been a dream of mine. But it’s hard to imagine working for an organization that further stigmatizes the trauma of sexual assault. Who places the fault and blame on the survivor, who tells me to take a self-defense class and then apply again in a year.

1 in 5 women are sexually assaulted in America, 1 in 4 on college campuses. And these are the women who choose to speak up, to disclose. There are countless women who choose not to disclose these experiences. And why would they? If they are going to be blamed, stigmatized, held back from their dreams. Why speak up?

In the words of my advocates (Anne Huhman & Heather Colohan) at the Sexual Assault Prevention and Awareness Center (SAPAC): “These structural impediments cause significant barriers for survivors and often serve to silence them. In order to progress as a society, we need to create a culture where survivors are not penalized; but rather, feel safe and supported in coming forward with their story. When survivors feel punished for sharing experiences of trauma, we create a chilling environment rather than one in which survivors feel encouraged to come forward. The benefits that survivors experience when sharing their stories can be significant- it can reduce stigma, help a person heal, create connections between people who have similar experiences, and possibly lead to powerful social change. The fact that Natalie came forward, shared her story, sought services at SAPAC, and immediately connected with long-term support from a therapist demonstrates incredibly strong and healthy coping mechanisms on her part. The reactions that she has had to the trauma are very common and out of her control.” 

I was sexually assaulted, a circumstance out of my control, and my coping mechanisms after this experience, not the experience itself, should have been the deciding factor in my ability to serve.

I know that Peace Corps is “the hardest job you’ll ever love” and that it comes with an incredible amount of unwanted attention and street harassment as well as constant feelings of loneliness and isolation. Yes, it would have been a hard job in a challenging environment, but it was one that I would have succeeded at and thrived in.

Being assaulted hasn’t changed who I am. It hasn’t taken away any of my strength-- if anything it has made me stronger. I know I have both the passion and skills to be an amazing Peace Corps volunteer. I know I would have met some of the most amazing, beautiful souls. I would have had a “life-altering” experience, as they say, one that makes you question everything you have ever known and forces you to see the world from a different perspective, to love strangers on the other side of the planet as your family, to live life in an entirely different way.

This is not an experience I will have with Peace Corps. Not today, and maybe not ever. I realize what a privilege it was to even be presented with the opportunity to serve in Peace Corps, and I am beyond grateful. I do not regret this last year or the endless nights I spent in preparation for my departure. And though at times I have questioned this, I do not regret my integrity, a quality supposedly sought after in Peace Corps volunteers. However, I do know if I would have lied or merely held back information, I would be leaving for Swaziland next week.

I am a sexual assault survivor. This, an unfortunate experience, is not my identity. Peace Corps may offer an amazing experience, but it is not my identity either. I have so many qualities that would have allowed me to thrive in Peace Corps service. You can take away that experience, but you cannot take away these qualities, and you cannot take away my identity. I’m going to do amazing work where I am. And right now that may only involve eating oranges and playing in the sand with preschoolers. And that’s okay.

I’m not leaving for Swaziland next week to serve as a Peace Corps volunteer. And I’m going to be just fine.  *repeat until convinced*