CLARITY WITHIN THE SNOW, HUMIDITY, AND HEAT

By Myki Jones

TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual assault, mentions of self-harm and suicidal thoughts, and other traumatic themes.

In December of 2018, I was attacked by people who I thought I could trust.

It is not an easy sentence to say out loud and it pains me still to this day to write that out. I went through my life after that doing what I can only describe as stomping on eggshells. I was destructive, not to others intentionally, but the majority of this destruction came from me to me. I had no clue why I was acting out for the longest time. I didn’t even register my attack as a sexual assault until a therapy session five months later when one of my professors suggested that I speak to one of the therapists at my college. The best way I can explain that realization is to ask you to picture a tsunami. The magnitude of those feelings was devastating; however, the signs were all there.

I know now that my brain and body were trying to protect me from the horror of what had been done to both. I know now that due to the fact this was not the first time someone had felt entitled to my body this was my brain and body’s way of making sure we were protected in the aftermath.

I thank that therapist who gave me the courage to tell the school about what had been done to me, and I thank the school for respecting my wishes in the way that I chose to move forward from what had happened to me. While they did remind me that although that much time had passed, I was still free to make a report of the incident,

I knew that I would not be strong enough to potentially be re-traumatized by the events that could have followed after.

I only saw one of the three attackers in passing the following year and I froze like a deer in the headlights on a snowy night where the drivers are advised not to slam their brakes. They didn’t even see me, or if they did, all I could think at that moment was how unfair it all was. How unfair it was that I became a shell of the woman I used to be, now lacking the love I gave so freely to others, that I should have kept for myself, angry at the world, angry at myself, and blaming myself for what happened, while this person got to go about their life pretending as though nothing had happened, just like they had when I confronted them about the way I felt after they did what they did.

Though in the present day, I am on my healing journey, and I am in a position where I am loved and cared for, it wasn’t until recently that I experienced a moment. I can’t put my finger on what this event was and trust me when I say I looked for ages once it happened to try and explain this feeling; consulting old therapy books, and the internet, I even looked for words in a different language to describe this feeling, but until that definition of this feeling comes to me I will only refer to it as a ‘moment’.

Everything froze after my assault. My way of life felt like it had hit a brick wall and just kept moving in slow motion as all the pieces of my soul, the last few pieces I had been holding onto with a vice grip since the first time a man felt entitled to my body, came apart. I am still picking up those pieces.

my best to ease on down the path that my life was currently routed. Sure I was smiling, sure, there were times where I showed genuine happiness. And, yeah, sure, maybe from the outside looking in I seemed like I had it together, but the blinding and painful reality was that I truly wasn’t. To others, I may have seemed like I was more than okay I was anything but. I think once I was able to break away from the coping mechanisms that were dragging me down deeper than I already was, as well as leaving behind relationships with people who either invalidated my trauma or showed me that they didn’t care enough to learn about that part of my being, I felt like I was finally breaking free.

It wasn’t until I left Glenwood Springs, CO, and moved in with my family in Camden, South Carolina that I would finally take all the time I needed out in the country to unpack all the trauma from my assault as well as the toxic and abusive relationships I was in, in the aftermath of it. While living in SC I took the time to be alone with myself. This had started as me isolating due to the depression that finally had hit me like a freight train while I was on the plane ride over, but after a while, I became comfortable. Not defeated, as I had been before, not numb, just comfortable, finally feeling all I had been pushing down.

I will say that it was my time in South Carolina that truly allowed me to do this. With the change of scenery, the fact that I was no longer living in the building I was traumatized in, and the fact that I would no longer face the possibility of running into any of my abusers again, I could finally breathe. Well, as best as I could with the humidity being as thick as it was, but even still, getting away saved my life.

I would later move from South Carolina to Arizona during the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic and it was in the desert, another good change of scenery where It wasn’t until I left Glenwood Springs, and moved in with my family to Camden, South Carolina that I would finally take all the time I needed out in the country to unpack all the trauma from my assault as well as the toxic and abusive relationships I found myself in the aftermath of it.

CLARITY WITHIN THE SNOW, HUMIDITY, AND HEAT continued

By Myki Jones

I learned the art of setting and respecting boundaries,

I would finally take charge of my mental health. I enrolled in therapy and with the help of my newfound friends; I started doing small things which led to big things that helped me feel like I was taking my power back in a healthy way. I learned the art of setting and respecting boundaries. I learned healthier coping skills, and reignited my love for hobbies I thought I would never pick up again. I started writing short stories, painting, journaling, and I even dipped my toes into the world of online content creating, which helped me gain a small, but mighty following.

I learned while I was in Arizona that it is okay for me to be selfish.

Not like the cartoony and vapid selfishness that we often see women portrayed as in a lot of media, which I could get off into the weeds about another time, but a selfishness that doesn’t let one limit themselves to comfort, pleasure, and peace. It was liberating.

There were a lot of laughs, a lot of tears, fears I overcame, and new ones I developed, but all in all, I would not change it for anything. I would eventually meet the man I love and whom I know loves me and return to the town I longed to be in after I had taken the time I needed to heal; Glenwood Springs, CO.

I turned 23 in May 27, of this year. A year I joked with my friends as the year nobody likes you, which is in reference to a Blink-182 song titled “What’s My Age Again?”; this birthday celebration was a much-needed escape from the noise of my life. Notifications going off, incoming phone calls, and even emails were all muted for a majority of this.

In the silence, I was able to be still. I rekindled connections that I thought were long lost, and most importantly I was at peace because I knew I was surrounded by people who I know love me. The same people I know care about what I went through and have taken the time to learn to love the woman I am evolving into.

The defining moments for me since this trauma have been learning to live again, learning to love myself again, and also channeling all the pain and anger I still have leftover into something beautiful. The beautiful thing about my attack is that I survived, the attack itself could have had the potential to end my life, and the way I went about life after it happened could have easily done the same.

I will not say that the trauma made me stronger.

The aftermath of what I went through turned me into a bitter, self-conscious, angry, and anxious person. As time marches on, I have found myself shedding a lot of that, but that does not mean it is all gone. I can’t say for certain if it ever will be, but I do know that I have power now. I am no longer stewing in what happened to me now that the floodgates have been busted, I am simply swimming. I have been able to take my experiences and create some of the best stories and the best poems I have ever written – while I never plan to release any of them, the drawings and paintings have captured all the good, bad, and in-between feelings.

I am not done yet, I know this, and I cannot wait to see what the future holds for me.