statistics *potentially triggering material*

I haven't told many people;
partly because, it took me a long time to believe it myself. I denied that what he did was wrong; that I was being dramatic or that I didn't know what it really was.
I left Northern Arizona University my freshman year for several reasons:
I was homesick
I didn't like the cold
literally anything
I left NAU because I was sexually assaulted fall 2011.
He was part of the new group of "friends" that I had met within the first few weeks of class. We'd wander the small mountain town with a bottle of whisky and soak up the gorgeous night sky full of the brightest constellations we'd ever seen, thanks to the lack of light pollution.
We'd flirt.
He'd pay the most attention to me whenever we'd all get together, he told me I was
special.
And then he sexually assaulted me.
At a gathering at one of the other guy's house, off campus, deep in the woods.
I arrived with my roommate and our new friends down the hall- the 4 of us were inseparable for those short months of fall semester.
We drank, we conversed, the party continued late into the night.
K and H left to go back to the dorms, but my roommate wanted to stay- as per the buddy system, I stayed too.
Before I realized, it was just him and I, then we were in a bedroom, the door was locked.
He were kissing, it was consensual.
and then it wasn't.
he was much bigger than me, playing football in High School required it. My brain was fuzzy and slow from the liquor, but I knew I didn't want it.
My attempts to leave the room were interrupted by his large hands blocking the door and unzipping my jacket, pants, until there was nothing left.
The night lasted forever, after he was done with me, I laid under the fan, shivering and sick to my stomach.
I'm not sure what was worse, the sinking feeling that led me to drive the 3 hours back to Phoenix immediately the next morning or the following week when he refused to make eye contact with me as we crossed paths going to class.

I am a statistic.

I never reported my assault, I never told my mom until recently. I left school and completely changed my life.
He won. 
And I'd bet money that he wouldn't even remember that night if asked- and he'd be even more in denial that he'd done anything wrong.

I think we're even facebook "friends"- Does that make the assault any less invasive or wrong or emotionally damaging?
no.
This is rape culture- this is the major problem Universities and Colleges around the country are having.
This is the first time I've ever written about the assault. And the idea of sending it out into cyberspace terrifies me- I feel vulnerable, embarrassed and uneasy about this being out and available for anyone's eyes,
But it's important; this story is important. Survivors sharing their experiences is crucial and necessary to combat rape culture and misogyny.
I don't think about him or what happened often, but I do think about it- how things could have been different. 
As for now, it's been 5 years, my life is completely different.

But I cannot and will not forget the night that I became a statistic.
And it may be too late for me to speak up, but I'm speaking now.

To All Of The Survivors,
We Survive And Thrive.

namaste,
the 20-something old soul

Good to Be Back

It's nice to be back from my 6 month hiatus.
And what a whirlwind it has been. Lot's of changes, including moving back to Salt Lake City, (I just can't seem to stay away from the top notch smoggy air and ridiculous liquor laws), moving into an apartment downtown with my partner and our 4 fur children, accepting a job offer with a marketing company, (I legit get to hang out in Home Depot all day playing with garden tools.. and I get a sick candy apple red F-150, so pretty legit) as well as accepting my offer to graduate school for a Master's in Community Leadership program at Westminster College.
I need to cool it on the font color.
So yeah, A lot has changed.
But here is what has inspired me to open up my laptop and type word vomit for all of your (I'm guessing 6 of you, hi mom) reading pleasure.
There was a wedding yesterday.
This wedding involved my boyfriend's family, his brother to be specific. Josh was THEE best man< see I'm still punny<, and looked damn hot in his suit and tie might I add, but as I stared at him standing next to Ryan up at that alter, I experienced what I had only previously heard about from movies.
Seeing the man I love with my whole heart standing next to the preacher with his cute dimpled chin and clean hair cut, I pictured him and I up there, exchanging rings, vows and our hearts.

It hit me like a pile of bricks.

I shivered with a wave of goose bumps despite the late May summer evening sun, and I felt the stinging in my nose that only means water works.
I cried. 
I became a wedding crier. Cliche.
But authentic all the same. I gazed at the rest of his family, all sitting around me, his nieces and nephews that prematurely call me their aunt, his sister who gives me advice and bear hugs like a big sister would, his father, such a gentle, sweet and accepting man, telling me he loves me and thanking me for loving his son the way that I do and his mother, his sweet angel mother looking over the entire gathering from the floral arrangement and framed photo to honor her physical absence on this planet.

It was right then, that I realized, this is the family I was privileged to choose. These are the people I want at each celebration, birth, loss, the tough stuff, good, bad, ugly and everything in between.
I've caught the bug. I've loved Josh for the entire 18 months we've shared, but yesterday I fell head over heels for this family and this future.
And it's a damn good feeling.
Here's to Wedding Season and the Criers in every pew.

My heart is full,
The 20-something Old Soul