This was hard for me to read. It made me cry which makes me think I should share it. I’m still not over it. I’m fooling myself in order to move on. Is it healthy? Does it promote healing, or am I just repressing? The grief is still here, hiding, buried, festering.

This entry comes three weeks after being drugged and sexually assaulted by two of my coworkers at our work holiday party. This is one of the 3 photos of me that night, then I disappeared. 

Jan. 8, 2016 4:04 am

Tonight I was mean to Buddy. ☹️ My poor, innocent, sweet, sweet little puppy. I hit myself a couple of days ago. Punched myself in the head. Now I’m hitting my dog.

This is not good.

I called this place called Safe House in Ypsi. Some non profit, battered and abused women’s shelter and counseling.

There’s a three week waiting list.

I don’t know if I’m gonna go? What can they tell me that I don’t already know to be true?

I’m conflicted.

What to do?

I put in a few job applications today. That’s how I’m dealing. Goodbye Detroit.

Goodbye Detroit. I need to move on. It’s no good for me. I’ve outgrown it and being sexually assaulted by my friend and a coworker is the perfect ‘Fuck You!’ send off.

I told Patrick about the assault today. I need an ally at [work], even though I plan on leaving there after I get back from Nicaragua.

The woman at the crisis center told me to see a doctor and get antidepressants. I don’t want to do that. Anti anxiety pills would be nice. I have a few.

I got distracted by police lights and lost my train of thought…….

Time for sleep anyway.


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