I sometimes come across photos of my  ex-friends on social media. (The same ones that gave a pass to the man who assaulted me.) It’s always a weird feeling. Like peering into a life that I used to be a part of but have chosen to leave. Like I shouldn’t be seeing it because I’m no longer involved.

It was a black and white photo. She was petting a cat. Typical. She loves cats. She was wearing a sweater that I recently tried on at J.Crew. Coincidentally, I thought of her while trying it on, know that she would like it. I didn’t get it. It wasn’t me. 

After my assault, I moved. That was seven years ago and I haven’t been able to make friends like I used to have. I don’t know how to let people in. How can I? And how do you build relationships later in life? 

I’m struggling. That’s one thing I know for sure. 



It’s 11pm. I’m drunk. I can feel it. One glass of wine turned into four, and I began the process of going over the last seven years. Seven fucking years since it all fell apart, and I can’t confidently say that I feel any better. What if I hadn’t filed for divorce? What if I hadn’t embraced single life so quickly and slept with a few men? What if I hadn’t gone to that party? Would I not have been assaulted by my ex-husband’s “best friend”? 

I can’t keep doing this. Not tonight. All I can hope is that I’m not the only one not sleeping well tonight. 


I missed one of my best friends’ wedding this past weekend. Not because I couldn’t make it, but because our friendship has recently come to an end, and wasn’t invited. The friendship between my best-best friend and i also came to an end. Basically my “friends” are dropping like flies. 

When I was sexually assaulted years ago I had no idea how it would change my life. I wasn’t prepared. The loss I’ve experienced has been overwhelming for me. And for some reason I am the one that feels guilt. I feel guilty that when my best friends decided to maintain close relationships with the person that assaulted me, I made the decision to walk away from our friendships. Why the fuck do I feel guilty?! It’s frustrating. I miss my friends. I’m depressed. Angry. Irritated. Anxious. 

My therapist told me that I’m experiencing grief as if someone has died, and that it’s normal. She said that although my friendships died years ago, I just now had their funerals. 

I scheduled the funerals shortly after the Women’s March. When I found out that my best friend had attended the March with the p.o.s I was heartbroken, and really fucking angry. Like, who the fuck thought that was a good idea?! Ugh. 

Ending a 10-year friendship is hard. Actually, that’s an understatement, it’s fucking brutal. I go back and forth all the time wondering if I did the right thing. And unfortunately, I know that I did. I always communicated my feelings and they were never validated in the way that I needed them to be. This person was given a pass for sexual assault, and I feel like it’s pretty fucking obvious that that isn’t okay. It came to the point where I realized if I am going to be an advocate for other victims, I first have to stand up for myself. 


I’m at work. I love my job, but lately I’ve been wondering how possible it is for my eyes to roll completely out of my head? I’m so damn irritable. Everytime someone laughs, coughs, walks across the office, I want to scream. Oh, and god forbid anyone speak to me.

I’m angry often. And I go back and forth wondering if that is a good or bad way to feel. I have a right to be angry, about a lot of things. But that doesn’t make it feel okay. Sometimes I wonder if my feelings are valid. In the sense that there terrible and unfortunate events going on out there in the world and in comparison I’m totally fine — I am alive, I have a loving family, and a good job. But I know that’s not a healthy way to think. I am understanding and empathetic to others, and I need to do the same for myself. Right? I guess I just struggle with talking about my issues because I don’t want to come off as ungrateful for what I do have.

I’m very grateful. Things just feel really shitty right now.


I’ve deleted this page three four times now. It feels unnatural, self-absorbed, and I’m definitely too old for this.

But I just really need to get some shit out. I don’t feel good and I want that to change. I figured this could be therapeutic in some way. We’ll see.