*crickets*

You may have noticed an unusual silence on my blog of late, no posting for a few months and no activity. Maybe you thought that like so many other blogs I just got tired of it, grew bored with finding new recipes and posting them to share with you, or maybe that I’d been taken down by some illness, or perhaps that I’d just fallen off the face of the earth itself. Or maybe you just didn’t even notice?

I’d like to preface this by saying that what I’m about to post isn’t to get sympathy, not because I want the people of the internet to pity me and think of me as some damaged broken little bird that needs to be coddled by the masses. I’m mostly posting this as an explanation of why I’ve been gone, why I haven’t been answering emails and also because I think this is an important issue to talk about. I didn’t have the strength to do that for a long time, and sometimes you need to hide away from life for a few months, curl up in a little cave somewhere and let yourself heal a little bit. Because you see, three months ago, I was at a party celebrating a friend’s birthday, walking out of a bathroom after touching up my makeup (as girls are wont to do), when a man I’d met earlier that night pushed me back into that bathroom, locked the door and proceeded to violently rape me.

This isn’t the right place to go into details about exactly what happened in that room – and needless to say after having told countless police officers, therapists, family and friends, the idea of going over the details again seems like an impossibly difficult act – so that’s as much detail as I intend to go into it, but to answer the inevitable questions people will be wondering in their minds: yes I am prosecuting him, yes physically I am now okay, no I would not like anyone to put a hit out on the man. I hope you’ll all understand now that after what happened I was in no place to worry about things like answering emails and updating my blog.  I spent weeks curled up in my bed crying, sobbing for all the things I felt like this man had taken away from me; for the ways he had fundamentally violated everything I thought about myself and stolen my trust for other people. Unfortunately for me, the fact that everything around me had come to a complete standstill didn’t mean that was the same for everyone else and so after I was finally able to drag myself out of bed I focused all my energy into finishing my last month of college so I could come home to my parents’ house for summer and let myself heal.

When I finally made it here, I was exhausted. Mentally and physically, I just collapsed – a symptom of the post-traumatic stress disorder I was experiencing as a result of what happened to me. Even after my bruises and wounds had healed I was just exhausted, my body’s immune system completely crashed and I spent days in bed just sleeping, trying to drag myself out of this endless haze of fatigue. Things that I used to do without thinking about now seemed insurmountably hard, just getting dressed became an achievement and three months on I still can’t walk out of a bathroom without a moment of sheer, debilitating, panic. But I’m on the road to getting better.

To be clear, no this isn’t a post to say: “but now thanks to my family and my therapy I’m completely over it, and I feel so much better, things back to normal!” This post is more about letting you know that things are still hard, that the court case will most likely be on-going for at least another year and that it’s still going to be a struggle for me. But also that it’s a new year, and I’ve made a resolution to try and make myself re-engage with the world. A part of that is going to involve updating this blog whenever I can, as I’ve always used food as a form of self-care. So hopefully, you’ll start seeing more posts around here again very soon.

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