When I was fourteen, I was raped by a sheriff deputy. For six months, I didn't say anything to anyone because I was hoping that I could just forget about it. That didn't work out as planned for me. I was so angry with myself for letting this happen to me. This man took away my virginity as well as my innocence. After this incident happened, his exact words were, "You would be better looking if you lost a good fifteen pounds, just so you know." About three weeks later, I was suffering from severe pain in the lower part of my back. I could barely walk and the pain kept getting worse day by day. It got to the point where I could not hold anything down in my stomach. My mom then took me to the ER. They ran some tests on me and come to find out, I had a bad kidney infection. I was hospitalized for about a week and a half while they kept me on an IV. While I was in the hospital, a man from the flower shop came to my room and dropped off a beautiful bouquet of flowers. In the flowers, there was a note that said, "To a beautiful girl with a big heart. Get well soon.- With love, [the man who sexually assaulted me]." I told the nurse to take them out of my room. I did not want them. The next day, this Indian doctor from the hospital came in while my mom was visiting me. She asked my mom to step out of the room for a second while she asked me a few questions. Of course, the first question she asked was if I was sexually active. I told her no because I was afraid that she would tell my mom that I was raped. I guess the bacteria that they found in my urine was a type that normally came from sexual intercourse with someone who had dirty genitals. I still denied it and she left it at that. When I was released from the hospital, things just got worse for me. I became more and more angry and as months went on, my anger turned into depression. Due to the fact that a man who raped me pretty much called me fat, I turned bullemic. From that, I lost a good thirty pounds over four months and my mother became concerned. I was eating, but I was losing weight rapidly.
One day when I was in my religion class (I went to a Catholic high school), my teacher was talking about sex before marriage and how it was against God. Ideas started going through my head, and I just bursted into tears. I walked out of the room, and my teacher followed me to see what was wrong. I told her what happened, and she had the teacher who was on her break come in and watch the class as she took me down to the school social worker. From there, the school social worker called my mother and then called the police department. My mom came to pick me up and drove me to the station where I sat in the detectives office and filed a police report. I found no use in going to the station because this man was a sheriff's deputy himself, and I knew nothing would happen. The detective then advised my mother to schedule an appointment with a therapist, and that is exactly what she did. I didn't want to go because only "psycho" people see therapists, and I didn't want to be labeled as that. I had to attend one on one therapy (where occasionally I would ask my mother to sit in with me) two days a week. This went on for TWO YEARS while we pursued a criminal case for rape. During those two years, there were multiple occasions where I attempted suicide, and everytime my mom found me and called the ambulance. The ambulance then rushed me to the hospital where I was transferred to a mental hospital. I was in a mental hospital six different times, but I pretty much refused the help they were trying to offer me because I knew I was not "mental". I just wanted this pain to go away.
Word got out to my classmates that I was raped by a sixty year old man because my mom told my best friend's mom what happened, and when my best friend and I got into an argument, she told a few of my other classmates and it spread. As I was walking down the hallway one day, this girl who did not like me tried to pick a fight with me and screamed, "Why don't you go have sex with another sixty year old man, you whore!" I immediately just began to cry because those words hurt more than those three punches I took in the face from her. I did not want to have sex with a sixty year old man! And for someone to throw that in my face... well that tore me apart. The principal called my mom to come pick me up because I was an emotional wreck, and being that I was missing so much school due to hospitalizations and depression that was linked with post-traumatic stress disorder, she thought it would be best for me to be homeschooled my last four months of tenth grade. My mom was fifty-six years old at the time, she couldn't homeschool me. So every week, my teachers would send my homework to my house along with any tests that I had, and I would complete them at home and send them back at the end of the week. It did take a lot of stress off my shoulders, but it still didn't make things better for me. I begged my mom to let me switch schools, and she agreed to send me to a public high school close to home. At least in a public school, I would be able to receive some special help that private schools were unable to offer.
On January 7, 2009, Pete Rubino's lawyer and my lawyer made a plea bargain where he plead guild to accosting for immoral purposes and Criminal Sexual Conduct - 4th Degree - Victim Between 13-16 (http://www.mipsor.st...px?oid=20006460). The judge sentenced him to only a year in the county jail, but if you ask me, I think he deserved life in prison. He pretty much murdered the happy-go-lucky girl I once was. In my mind, he ruined any chance that I had for a successful life. I used to be a straight A student, but after everything happened, I found myself barely passing. It was just not fair.
After this all happened and I found myself getting better, I realized that I should make some good out of this tragedy and help other kids who are going through what I went through. I decided that I wanted to pursue a career in special education and help children who are emotionally impaired. Now that I notice myself falling slowly going back to the horrible mental state that I was in before, I am just questioning myself and wondering how can I manage to help children who suffer from emotional issues when I too suffer from emotional issues as well. I mean, yeah, I can keep going up on my medications to help my depression and PTSD, but, pretty soon, my body is going to become immuned to them and they won't be any help to me anymore. I don't want to give up on my dream and what I believe God is calling me to do, but I don't believe I will be any good as a teacher. I have a big heart and I would bend over backwards for anyone that needed my help, especially children, but what if I have breakdowns when I am teaching? My students will look at me as someone who should be recieving help, not someone who is trying to help them get further in life.