Telling My Story

I have tried telling this story a thousand times in my life. Each time, I cut myself off at the spots that were the hardest. The parts I don’t remember, the parts my brain blocked out from my subconscious, the parts that hurt the most.

The truth is, I don’t remember. Not fully, never fully. Instead, I get reminders. The smell of peaches. The taste of moonshine. The feel of a heavy body on mine. Sudden touches I never asked for. The smell of Old Spice deodorant. The way the house smelt and smell of alcohol on his breath.

I don’t remember saying yes and I don’t remember saying no. Truthfully, I don’t remember saying anything. Maybe due to the fact that I was so drunk I couldn’t even walk straight. I remember I loved him. That’s it, but I also remember flashbacks of that night hitting me like a freight train. I’d wake up screaming, crying sometimes when they were vivid. I couldn’t stand the smell of peaches for years, and once the flashbacks started, and questions about that night began to be answered, I couldn’t stand him either.

I was sixteen years old when I was raped by the guy I loved. I was sixteen years old when I discovered every terrible story you hear about, ended up happening to me. I was sixteen years old when I learned the real definition of trauma. I was sixteen. The highlight of my youth. The year I got my driver’s license. Sixteen.

I struggled a long time with moving on. Even longer learning ways to cope. Longer when it came to not acting like I didn’t happen. It’s been almost six years, and I still have flashbacks. I still smell the peaches. I can still feel his hands on my body. I can still smell the Old Spice. I still wake up screaming sometimes, other times crying.

The thing about trauma is that you learn to live with it. You learn as the years go by, that while you can’t change it, you can choose to turn it into something positive. Join a support group. Volunteer at a woman’s shelter. Help women who went through the same things you did. Learn how you want to cope, but don’t sit and dwell on events your brain purposefully hides from you. There’s a reason, a defense mechanism. It’s your brains wait of protecting you from things that caused you pain.

It’s been six years and I eat peaches again. The smell of Old Spice deodorant doesn’t make me want to vomit. I still don’t like moonshine, now just because I find it nasty. Michael’s touches don’t overwhelm me anymore, they don’t trigger flashbacks. It’s been six years and I find myself doing better everyday. I find myself moving on more everyday.

If you or someone you know is a victim of sexual assault and violence please, do not be afraid to reach out and ask for help. You are not alone. You are in control of what happens after.

Call 800.656.HOPE (4673) to be connected with a trained staff member from a sexual assault service provider in your area.

OR

Visit the link below regarding information on the types of support and help you have available to you:

https://www.healthline.com/health/sexual-assault-resource-guide

As always,

-SincerelyKaley

My Experience In Greek Life|Delta Phi Epsilon

When I was a kid, I remember being so fascinated with sororities and Greek life. I remember being so excited to go off to Harvard Law School like El Woods did while also having an entire support system behind her. Or finding some kick-ass friends like Shelly in House Bunny. Unfortunately, while I was never a Playboy centerfold or particularly smart enough to get into Harvard; I did get one of my wishes.

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My Skincare Routine

If we are being honest, I got into skincare later in life. My mom let me play around with makeup when I was younger and unfortunately, the products that are viewed as “holy grails” were not around back then. I struggled with acne my entire life due to the fact I did not know how to take care of my skin properly.

That being said, I think it is important for me to add that around the age of sixteen I had experimented with so many face washes and moisturizers to the point I began to think nothing would work for me. It wasn’t until I was around eighteen that I stumbled upon the brand Murad. To this day it is still the only staple I have in my skincare routine and I have never faltered from using it.

However, other than my Murad facewash, I can’t say I have a “routine” when it comes to my skin. On some days, I do my skin care routine in the morning and night, other times I may go the entire day and not touch my skin at all. It is simply a touch and go process for me and it depends completely on how lazy I am feeling on any given day.

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May 2019 Favorites

Welcome back to my blog. It has been a crazy few weeks! Around May 17th I got my tonsils out and was down for the count for a bit there. That being said, I am doing much better now and decided to come at you with a blog post today. I haven’t done a monthly favorites in a while so I figured why not. I’ve expanded my music taste, hobbies, and a bunch more. Hopefully, you find even one of these slightly interesting.

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Quick Life Update Pt. 2

I have been on an extreme hiatus as of recent. I’m sorry about that. However, tonight I posted two new things so hopefully it makes up for my failure of posting for the past two (ish) months prior?

I hope for the remainder of 2019 I will post more consistently. Especially now, since school is done for the summer and I have nothing going on except for work.

Please stay tuned though, because I will be trying to see if my mother can record me after I get my tonsils removed. I’ll try to post that on here becaue I think it could be pretty funny. I guess we’ll see?

Have a great night guys!

-Kaley

Gypsy Mind

My entire life people have asked me where I see myself in five, ten, and even twenty years from now. My answer when I was younger was always something that at the time I was sure of. For example: When I was thirteen I would tell people I wanted to be a forensic detective. When I was sixteen, a lawyer. When I turned eighteen I was convinced I was going to be a pediatric acute care nurse and then when I went off to college I wanted to just be a neonatal nurse. Now at the ripe at of 21 (and some months), I want to do something in psychology. What? I have absolutely no idea and that terrifies me less than anything else I had planned.

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An Open Letter To The Girl Who WAS My Best Friend

Please know this is not written to bash anyone. This is written from a place of love, specifically from a place of acceptance of the outcome and hope that this person will one day improve themselves. Whether that improvement is caused by this post or not. I wil never hold anger towards you. I will forgive, but I don’t think I will ever forget. Please also be aware this is a late night post and written in the throws of extreme tiredness. My thoughts may come off jumbled because truthfully my mind is all over the place. I have a million things I want to say and unfortunately that all will never get expressed. Like I said, I am not trying to bash anyone. However, this is MY blog and I am allowed to write what I want. Whether it be coherent or not.

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Creating New

A/N: This is not a blog post saying that I will never return. It’s just a blog post about accepting the face I will never return to Young Harris as a student, I’ll just return as a visitor. I suppose that this is a farewell to a place that holds the largest chunk of my heart. I struggle with change, even more so when I love the place I am leaving to go to someplace else. Although, I have officially been a Nighthawk now at UNG for a full year, my heart has stayed Mountain Lion purple through and through. It’s time to say goodbye to the place that gave me the best year and a half of my life. It’s time to be okay with starting someplace new and allowing myself to let new people in. It’s time for me to realize that by doing so I am not betraying the friends I made during my time at Young Harris, nor am I disregarding the memories I made either. I will always feel most at home in that little valley. I came there as a child who had the highest hopes for herself, no real clue of the world, and an itch to get away from her hometown. I found several things in that valley. I found friends that will last a lifetime. I found sisters. Somehow, during all of that I ended up finding me.

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December 18th, 2018

I’ve had this fantasy version of my husband in my head since I was a kid. I used to imagine what he would look like and daydream of the day we would get to meet. I used to write him letters and pray for him. I would put on my grandmother’s baby blue robe (that was way too long on my short body) and pretend it was my wedding dress. I would practice walking down the aisle to this person, daydreaming of the day it would really happen. This man was always in my thoughts.

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To All The Boys I Loved Before

Thank you for teaching me about myself and showing me what not to deal with. Thank you to the man who took the time to learn everything about me, not just the face value things.

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