Senior government and politics and information systems major
I always thought writing letters to people who bothered me was kind of silly. I’m not talking to them directly, and I’m not changing something they did, so what’s the point?
However, for my last column for The Diamondback this year, I wanted to write about you, not because I demand attention or want people to feel upset but because maybe, one day, this letter will find you. When it does, you’ll know that your efforts to reduce me or hurt me weren’t effective — in fact, everyone will know your efforts weren’t effective.
Let’s face it: You and I have had a pretty tough year. I had never experienced what it was like to go from feeling great one day to feeling like I had hit rock bottom the next until you dragged me there.
For the first few months, I blamed myself. During this time, I learned how to weed out the bad people from the good. Some joined me in blaming myself, but others stood by me every single day, helping me get through each week step by step, being miraculously capable of staying up late each night just to help me stay occupied.
“What are you going to do now?” For the next few months, I couldn’t stop repeating this question to myself. I asked this question — just like you constantly asked me one night — for days. It was the question that had no answer, but my mind kept acting as if it were something I had to solve. It was the only statement you made, so obviously I couldn’t let myself forget about it.
After I went through this period, winter came, and I had dreams about you. It wasn’t like you haunted me — by this point, I had built up enough courage to seek help and no longer questioned my integrity. I was talking to professionals, making sure I spoke to my friends consistently and allotting time each day to focus on myself. But strangely, I dreamed that I hit you, yelled at you and hurt you. For the longest time, I thought I wouldn’t be able to get through this period, and I would be stuck in an angry stage until I sought revenge.
But this wasn’t the case. Each day, I worked on fortifying my mentality, opening up to people and focusing on my plans and goals, not on you. It turned out my dreams represented me coming to terms with what happened and realizing I can’t blame myself for things I can’t control.
My year was tough, but it was also an experience that taught me how to become stronger and respect myself. I’m not saying you did me a service by hurting me, but I was capable of taking the experience and turning it into a positive — using a tragedy to build up my armor.
All of the stages I went through — blame, desperation and anger — are things many men and women experience in this country. What you did was not unique or special, but something people experience all the time.
At the end of the day, I want those who have experienced what I went through to realize that they’re not alone, that there are so many survivors out there writing to their attackers and seeking their own forms of closure.
The marks you leave aren’t permanent. Survivors take them, mold them and use them to improve themselves in order to feel better. I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done, but I have stopped your actions from hurting me indefinitely, and I hope all survivors will be able to do this too someday.
So now, what are you going to do?
Caroline Carlson is a junior government and politics and information systems major. She can be reached at ccarlsondbk@gmail.com.
