Type of Aggie currently: Undergraduate
Classification/age at time: 4-6 years old
Location of crime: Relative's house
Was the crime reported: Yes
Reasoning for decision to report or not report: "My psychiatrist was forced to report it to the police because I was a minor. I’m not sure if I ever would’ve reported myself."
"My family is very tight-knit. I remember spending most of my childhood with extended family. My cousins were like my best friends and aunt, uncles, grandmas, and grandpas were like second parents to me. When I was younger, my family didn’t have very much money and because of this my parents worked multiple jobs. It wasn’t uncommon for them to leave us with family for a weekend or so because of their hectic schedules. Commonly they’d drive up to Oklahoma and leave my sister and I with my grandparents. Their house was filled with toys and my grandma was an incredible cook so of course we didn’t mind. My sister was very close to our grandma and they would sleep in her Mickey Mouse themed bedroom while staying there. I was closer to our grandpa, who had a separate bedroom from my grandma, so we would sleep in the same bed when staying there. I didn’t realize until several years later that I had been assaulted in that bed. I didn’t question why I didn’t like sleeping in that bed, only that I wanted to be with my sister and grandma in their bed instead. Around age 6, my parents got better job prospects in a different town. We moved and, with the pay increase, my parents were finally able to drop their extra jobs and stay with us. We no longer stayed nights at my grandparents house. You’d think things were a lot better but I began to spiral. I went from being very positive, cheerful, and constantly chatting to anyone that’d listen to reserved, timid, and irritable. Once I got to middle school it was even worse. I was chronically depressed and anxious. I cut off most of my friends. I started to experience recurrent nightmares. I didn’t know how to decipher these nightmares at first because I couldn’t remember them in the morning, I’d only remember the feeling I had during the dream. I continued having these nightmares all the way through high school and continue to have them today. Bits and pieces started to connect but I didn’t dare bring it up to my family. I decided I was faking it and started taking prescription anxiety medication by the handfuls any time I thought about it. I didn’t sleep much either. If I did it was with the help of Xanax. Eventually, I was admitted to the psychiatric hospital for an overdose/attempted suicide. The nightmares were even worse while there. The night nurses were incredibly kind to me, waking me up and sitting with me when these nightmare happened. One of my favorite nurses ended up telling my psychiatrist about my symptoms and, the next time I met with her, she asked me about my childhood. I cried and told her what I had been dealing with these past years. She diagnosed me with PTSD and filed a police report. She brought my father in and I told him what I had kept from him for 10 years. He didn’t cry. I could tell he wanted to. He had that shimmer in his eyes people get when they hold back tears but he held it in for my sake. He hugged me and told me everything was going to be okay. I was released from the hospital the next day and gave a statement to the police the day after that. Since reporting I feel like I can finally start healing. It’s no longer my secret but my story. I can learn to take strength from my story and build myself back up instead of hiding from it. It’s been 2 years and I finally believe myself. I've finally stopped blaming myself. I still have hard days but the days aren’t as hard anymore. I thank my family, friends, and that psychiatric hospital team everyday for that. "