Anita-Corbo

I have bits-n-pieces of memories that I sort through in my mind. My mind is still putting thoughts together. Trying to make sense of all the events that didn’t make sense before but suddenly do now looking back. When I write to purge memories in my mind, it’s actually very difficult to do. To a normal person reading, you'd think that it looks easy. But it actually isn't. What’s difficult is that I have to relive the actual trauma in my mind as I’m writing so it feels like I’m going through it all over again. And trust me, it’s not pleasant. It sends me into a deep anxious state. But I need to vomit it out of my consciousness, so to speak. So I have to seriously do it & get rid of its toxic residue in my mind.

One memory is the day my drink was spiked. 🍹

A year & ½ ago.

Four months after my assault in the hospital & almost 2 weeks later after I publicly wrote about it.

Drink spiking is considered a premeditated act & personal violation of your body.

That means that within 4 months apart from each other my body had been violated twice. Each by forcible drugging.

I never filed a report to law enforcement this time because I literally gave up on anyone who had the power to help me. It was just another incident for them to be invisibly filed away so why would I even attempt to seek assistance again? The last timed I filed a report, I was met with indifference. A number was given to me at the top of the page in the right-hand corner but when I did a search for it online, it didn't show that it was filed. Maybe an innocent mistake? Maybe. Maybe not. It just felt like another cry for help that won't lead to anything anyways. Just deaf ears. That seems to be the norm.

I was driving home in broad daylight after attending a party. Unaware. Not knowing. Wondering why I felt so heavy & sleepy because I only had a couple of drinks. Only 2 or 3 & that is definitely not enough to make me feel the way I did. Especially since I was at the house for a couple of hours & that means my body had enough time to filter anything out. One drink per hour is the usual scientific method for calculating how long alcohol stays in your system. So before I get in my car these days, I try to always be aware of how I feel & I honestly felt like I could handle a moving piece of machinery that day.

This strange & immediate feeling came over me about 10 minutes later. There was a dense heaviness in my body, almost like a weighed-down pushing sensation. Sinking deeper into my car seat. My eyes started getting blurrier & my head started nodding off.

Did you ever get so bored sitting in your old high school classes way back when? Trying to listen to the teacher & absorb some knowledge but your head kind of drops slowly & then you catch yourself so you snap it back up quickly?

“Hey, I'm here. I’m awake. I’m listening! Don’t flunk me, please?” 😳

Well, that is the feeling I had. Just trying to keep my eyes open but nodding off at the same time.

This doesn’t feel right, I told myself. I truly felt like my body just felt too heavy for the amount of drinks I consumed. It didn't feel normal.

Sometimes when I feel uncomfortable in a situation, my first instinct is to pray. I don’t think that is necessarily a rational decision but it always seems to calm me & make me feel in control again. Surrendering to something higher, whether it be Jesus or Buddha or God or the Holy Spirit, that is always the place in my mind that I go to. (Angels, too. Lets not forget about those angels!) 💛👼💛

So I just kept praying to myself. Repeatedly. Just praying. Quietly.

Over & over & over again… 🙏

Non-stop… 🙏

My mind was fighting really hard to overcome ending up unconscious. I literally WILLED my mind to stay awake.

I talked to myself, prayed to myself, talked to myself, prayed to myself, talked to myself, prayed to myself… 🕇

Anyways, a miracle DID happen! 💫

I finally made it home. The first thing I did was text my friend to let her know I made it home OK. Then I threw myself onto the couch. My husband seemed concerned because he kept telling me to get up & go lay in my bedroom. It wasn't a normal habit for me to fall asleep on the couch. My normal routine is always sleeping in my bedroom. I couldn't find the energy to get up & transfer my body just less than 15 feet away. It literally felt like I had these amazing boulders of stone on me. Just too heavy to carry. Too much weighted-down pressure on me.

So my husband just let me fall asleep that way after shaking me a couple of times with no success. I just melted into the couch.

Finally, I woke up & looked around & realized I didn’t remember much. Like I had amnesia. Short-term memory loss. A head that felt really foggy. I can only describe it as having a lobotomy where snippets of my brain were removed. I checked my text to see if anyone texted me back. Nothing. Yet…

The next day my husband thought that something was not right. He told me he never saw me that way before & knew that it was out-of-the-norm for me to not go to my room.

It was my decision to never tell my friend who invited me about what happened because I always try to give people the benefit of the doubt. I never hurled accusations at her or called her to tell her the details. Maybe it was someone at the party unbeknownst to her & she was totally unaware of it. A separate incident from the party she was hosting. Most definitely though, when I had my back turned, somebody there had slipped me a dose of something. I don't know exactly what because I never had a blood test done the day after. But they say hindsight is 20/20 & I know for sure, without a doubt, it was a DRUG without my consent! My trust was gone in terms of going back to that same house ever again.

I was scared & afraid & didn't want to talk about it with anyone. So I just kept it to myself all this time. 🤐

When I reflect on the incident, I wonder if it was retaliation for me speaking up about what happened to me 4 months previously. What were their intentions? To cause me to lose control of the wheel? To have me pass out & end up dead? Why would anyone go to the extreme of doing that to harm me? Was I supposed to fall asleep at the party & then be physically violated? Was I drugged to make it appear that I drank more than I really did?

I'll never know.

What I do know is that it was another aggressive attempt on my body in just a relatively short period of time. People can only handle so much physical & psychological trauma before they start talking about it & let others know that maliciousness & hatred run rampant. These crimes don't just happen to high school or college-age girls. They can happen to anyone.

It's tiring. I’m exhausted from it all. What kind of side effects will stay in my body after this? Why do I feel almost ashamed talking about it instead of empowered? I believe that is how most victims feel after long periods of time. They mistakenly feel that it is their fault when it is NOT. It’s time we stop thinking this way. 💝

I’m just more fed up than anything else now. Fed up.

When do these outrageous acts of hatred ever stop? When does the stalking stop? When do people stop crossing the line & just let someone live a peaceful life of their own choosing? How long does it keep going on? When do others just respect your life & stop spewing toxic acts of violence on your body? When can they just focus on their own life instead? When?

I don't know. And I won’t pretend to have all the answers.

All I know is I don’t consider myself a victim anymore. That word makes me cringe, to a degree. I’m a survivor! Those are the words I'm most proud of. Those are the words I choose to use instead. Those are the words YOU should use also if this has ever happened to you!

Not a V-I-C-T-I-M

But a S-U-R-V-I-V-O-R !!!

💖✌💖